‘Fuck!’ Alex says, flipping onto his back and dislodging me from my position pressed up against him. ‘What time is it?’

‘I don’t know. It must still be early.’

‘Have you heard Mary?’

‘Yeah, she was hoovering when I woke up.’

‘Fuck,’ he says again. ‘I should’ve been up—’

He clambers to his knees and I reach out and run one hand down his thigh. ‘Hey, wait.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Shit, I won’t be able to get a shower.’

He stands up and bangs his head on the file shelf again, before pulling his underpants and jeans on.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks me as he rummages in the pile of clothes we threw down last night. ‘Iz? Are you okay?’

I’m sitting up now. ‘Yeah. I’m good. I—’

‘Fuck!’ he says again. He’s found his phone. ‘It’s eight o’clock.’

‘Shit.’ Even though our official start time isn’t actually until ten, I know the office starts filling up from about eight.

‘What can I do?’ I ask. I grab my leggings – my knickers are still tucked inside – and pull them on, then stand up, managing to avoid the shelf.

‘Just… help me tidy everything away,’ Alex says. ‘Shit, if anyone comes in…’

‘Don’t panic,’ I say. ‘People don’t usually come in here, do they?’

‘No,’ he says, pulling his black jumper over his head. His hair flies up with static and I want to reach out and smooth it down, but instead I find my hoodie and pull it on. ‘No, you’re right. I just… I don’t want anyone to…’

‘I know,’ I say. I reach out and wrap my fingers around his wrist and he turns and smiles at me, but it’s slightly off. He’s looking just past me. It makes something cold flutter in my stomach.

‘Okay,’ he says a couple of minutes later. All his stuff is back in the box. We’ve both got our clothes on. Last night’s condom is disgustingly disposed of in the empty Evian bottle so that Alex can put it in his bag and not risk anyone finding it in here.

‘I need to get to work,’ he says. ‘Are you okay to get home?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about—’

‘Great,’ he says. ‘I’ll call you later, okay?’

He slides the file cabinet back into position and heads for the door. He’s almost there when he stops dead and turns back.

‘Fucking hell, Iz,’ he says as he crosses the room. He stops in front of me and this time he’s looking directly at me. I relax for what feels like the first time since he woke up. ‘I’m sorry. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Get to work.’

His arms wrap around me and his lips brush across my cheekbone.

‘Last night,’ he says.

‘Was amazing,’ I say.

‘Yeah.’

I kiss his jaw.

‘You’ll be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I say.

Once Alex has gone, I search around the archive room to make sure we haven’t left anything behind. I find the vest top I’ve been wearing instead of a bra and roll it up and shove it inside the front pocket of my hoodie. Everything looks as it should, so I slowly and carefully open the door and step out into the office.

It’s certainly not busy, but there are a few people around. Nichola – who, like me, started as an intern and worked her way up – walks almost right up to me, talking on her phone, not looking at me. I flinch and step back, banging into the door. She glances over, looking slightly surprised, but carries on to her desk.

I cross the office towards the bathroom and for the first time I actually miss being here. In the office. When I first started working here, I loved coming in and getting a coffee and checking my email. Everyone arriving, chatting, talking about what they’d got up to the night before, and then gradually we’d move on to whatever campaign we were currently working on. Insights frequently came out of those morning chats – as if the nugget of inspiration we’d been searching for was hiding and we couldn’t find it until we stopped looking. It was exciting.

If I get back to normal and can come back to work in the office, I want to be more proactive. Mel once said that I just let the job happen to me – that I did what was expected of me, but nothing extra. If and when I get back, I want to make sure I do as much as I can. And I guess that starts with the pitch. I need to get home and work on it today. Time’s running out.

I scroll through my phone as I sit on the loo.

There’s a message from Tash from last night. It just says

Thk u

and then one that says

Lovy

which I think is meant to be ‘love you’. I want to ring and tell her about last night. That Alex is homeless and lives in the office. That we had sex. But I can’t do that from the office loo, so it’ll have to wait. Instead I reply that I’m on my way home and hope that Liam will have left by the time I get there. That would be an awkward morning-after conversation.

I’m just about to open the door and head home when someone comes in and I have to wait them out. It’s two people – I’m in the middle cubicle and they take one either side of me. There’s unzipping and rustling sounds then one of them says, ‘Have you heard anything from Izzy?’

Nichola.

‘Nope,’ someone replies. ‘I know she took the Fancy Bantams files home – the old ones? ’Cos Mel was steaming.’

Debs. I don’t know her very well. She only started here a few months ago but she and Nichola go to lunch together most days.

‘I know,’ Nichola says. ‘She’s trying to make out she’s pissed off because she wanted the files, but you know it’s actually ’cos they’re in a mess.’

This is true. Mel definitely made some dodgy mistakes with the Fancy Bantams account, but everyone does, particularly when they’re starting out. But I can imagine how stressed Mel’s been about it when she knows the company could lose the account altogether.

‘I don’t know why she’s worried, to be honest,’ Debs says. ‘It’s not like Izzy’s going to come up with anything.’

My head jerks up and for a second I worry that I’ve given myself away, before realising that’s not possible.

‘I know, right?’ Nichola says. I hear loo roll scrolling and then she flushes and opens the cubicle door, her heels tapping on the tile floor.

I think the conversation’s over, but no.

‘Like, has she ever come up with anything good?’ Debs says.

‘Not really.’ I hear the tap running. ‘I mean, that’s probably not fair. She’s okay. She’s come up with some solid stuff before, yeah. But that’s not going to be good enough this time. We need something really brilliant. And she’s just not up to that.’

I stare at the light under the cubicle door as Debs flushes and washes her hands. They both use the drier, still talking about the Fancy Bantams account, but not about me. And then they leave and it’s quiet. And I’m left sitting on the loo, phone in my hand, thinking about how everything they’ve just said is right. But that it doesn’t mean that I can’t come up with something. Just because I haven’t before. I already feel like there’s something there I just can’t get. Like it’s on the tip of my tongue.

I jump as my phone buzzes in my hand. Mum. I decline the call, but it rings again immediately and then a text comes through:

Shit. What if something’s happened to Dad? Or to Mum and this is actually someone using her phone? (Although that text was definitely her style.) I answer, my voice echoing around the now empty bathroom.

‘You haven’t been paying the mortgage?!’ she says. Or, rather, shrieks.

Oh god.

‘It’s complicated,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for me to talk.’

‘I can’t believe you would do this,’ Mum says.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Mum, really, I can’t talk now. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There’s been a lot going on. With work. And Max moving out and—’

‘We’re going to come round. Tonight. Your father wants to look at your bank statements.’

That’s not happening.

‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, but I won’t be there. And I need to go now. I’ll call you later.’

‘Where are you going? And you haven’t forgotten about your father’s party, have you?’

‘Something for work. And no, of course I haven’t. Don’t come down, I won’t be there. I’ll call you, okay?’

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘But I need to tell you that I’m—’

Someone comes into the bathroom, so I end the call. I’ve never done that before. It makes me feel slightly ill.

I bought the flat – on their advice – with money my gran, my dad’s mum, left me when she died. The inheritance enabled me to put down quite a big deposit, but the mortgage is still more than I’d be able to afford, so I pay half and my parents pay half, the plan being that at some point I will sell at a profit and split the profits with them.

When Max first moved in, he was meant to pay the bills while I paid the mortgage, but he kept forgetting. Or cancelling the payments when he was skint with the intention of paying double the following month. But our cable kept getting cut off. So it seemed easier for him to be responsible for one payment – the mortgage – while I paid the rest of the bills. I don’t know why I ever trusted him with it. I must’ve been a complete idiot.

As soon as I hear one of the other doors lock, I dart out of the cubicle and then back into the office. I’m halfway to my desk when I realise I’ve still got my phone in my hand. Thank god no one has noticed a phone travelling through the air on its own. I can’t believe I’m actually fucking up being invisible. I push it inside my top, forgetting that I’m not wearing the stretchy vest, and it falls straight through and skitters across the floor towards Nichola’s desk.

Shit.

‘What the fuck?’ she says, looking down at my phone.

She swings round in her chair and looks straight at me. I gasp and look down at myself to make sure I’m still invisible. And I am. She leans down and picks up my phone, pressing the Home button with her thumb. The lockscreen is a photo of me and Tash doing duck faces, so there’s no way she’s not going to know it’s mine.

‘Is Izzy here?’ she calls to Debs, who sits a few desks away.

‘I haven’t seen her,’ Debs says, shrugging.

Nichola gets up and crosses the office, still holding my phone. I follow her. I can’t leave without my phone.

‘Is Izzy here?’ Nichola calls as she approaches Mel’s office. Over her shoulder, I see Alex in the office with Mel.

‘Is Izzy here?’ Nichola says again, from the door.

Alex looks over at her. ‘No?’

Nichola holds up my phone. ‘Just found her phone. Someone dropped it. It was weird – there wasn’t anyone there.’

‘Maybe it fell out of a file or something?’ Alex says, flushing pink.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ Nichola leans in the doorway, blocking my view of Alex. I take a couple of steps closer.

‘It’s funny ’cos I was just talking about her,’ Nichola says. ‘Me and Debs were wondering how she’s been getting on with the pitch.’

‘Alex and I were just talking about Fancy Bantams,’ Mel says. ‘He’s got some good ideas.’

‘Yeah?’ Nichola says.

There’s a short silence – I try to see Alex, but I can’t without getting too close to Mel – and then I hear him say, ‘You know the quote: “Why blend in when you were born to stand out?’’’

My chest feels tight. I take another step. I’m too close to Nichola now, but I need to see Alex.

‘People want to stand out,’ he continues. ‘They want to be seen – but not too much.’

I told him this. This is what I said I was working on. For the pitch.

‘They want to feel like they’re being seen,’ Alex says. ‘Without actually drawing too much attention to themselves. Does that make sense?’

I suddenly get an image of Alex and Nichola outside the office, smoking together. They were always smoking together.

‘Absolutely,’ Mel says.

I step backwards and bump into a chair. It knocks into the desk and some files fall over.

‘What the fuck?’ Nichola says again.

But I don’t stop to look back. I head straight for the door.