As we exit the taxi and go in the front door, we try to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Dad. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s almost midnight. I didn’t manage to win enough money to buy a new sewing machine; however, I did end up with slightly more cash than I started out with, so at least that’s something.

Turning on the hall light, I catch a glimpse of the knuckles on Jay’s right hand and see that they’re a little scraped and reddened from throwing those two punches.

“Come on upstairs, and I’ll get you some antiseptic for that,” I whisper, touching his hand for a second. I slip off my heels and leave them at the bottom of the stairs.

He follows silently behind me, and I wonder if he’s checking out my arse again like last time. I don’t have the courage to turn around and investigate, though.

When we reach the bathroom, I pull a bottle of antiseptic from the shelf and some cotton wool from the cupboard. Jay sits down on the edge of the bathtub, watching me.

“You really shouldn’t have attacked that man,” I say. “I’ve had worse things said to me over the years.”

His eyes darken. “Who’s said worse to you, Matilda?”

I shrug it off. “Almost every time my friend Michelle and I go out, we get crude stuff shouted at us. I think it’s all part and parcel of being around drunk men with no filters.” I pause and amend, “The women can be fairly nasty at times, too.”

“Well, that’s probably because they’re jealous. And the men do it because they misguidedly think it’ll get them laid.”

I laugh softly and pour some antiseptic onto the cotton wool before sitting down beside him and bringing it to his hand. “‘Misguided’ is definitely the right word.”

When the cotton wool meets his knuckles, he hisses and curses, “Motherfucker.”

“You know what? You Boston-Irish swear even more than us Irish-Irish,” I joke.

“Yeah,” says Jay. “I’ve got a dirty mouth, but it’s mostly used for good.”

I glance at him. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel all funny and hot, so I hand him the cotton wool.

“There. You can finish yourself off,” I say, standing up.

I have to resist the urge to face palm when I see the size of his smile. Sometimes I think my brain might just be a gaping hole containing nothing but unconscious innuendo.

“You know what I mean,” I mutter as I open the door to leave.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Jay calls after me.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Sleep tight.”

I can still hear him chuckling as I close my bedroom door.

The next morning, breakfast is waiting for me again. This time it’s fresh fruit and a croissant. Jay’s nowhere to be seen, but the croissant is still warm, so he must have gone out to get it. Dad’s eating his just as happily as he ate his bacon and eggs yesterday.

“I think it might have been the best decision I ever made, taking in a lodger. He has us eating like kings every morning.”

“Yeah, let’s see if you’re still saying that when you gain ten pounds,” I reply, and take a bite of the deliciously fresh pastry.

Jay enters the room just then, dressed in a suit like he’d been when we first met. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Watson,” he chirps. “It’s actually been proven that you lose weight by eating it, rather than the opposite way around.”

“Oh, well, colour me corrected,” I mutter.

“So, how did the casino night go?” asks Dad with interest.

I make eye contact with Jay, and I think in that moment we both unconsciously agree to leave out the part about him punching a man to defend my honour.

“Great. You’re looking at a girl who’s forty euros richer than she was yesterday,” I declare proudly. “I lost ten euros twice, but then I won back ten, and then I won fifty, so forty profit altogether.” I glance at Jay. “Still not enough to buy me a new machine, but I’ll keep saving.”

Jay gives me a surprisingly affectionate expression before knocking back a gulp of coffee. “Right, lady and gent, I’ll be out most of the day. I’ve got a couple of meetings to find a solicitor willing to take my case.”

“Oh, good luck with that,” says Dad as Jay leaves. When he’s gone, Dad takes his plate over to the sink and rinses a few dishes. My eyes travel to my broken sewing machine, and I notice something’s amiss. Leaving my half-eaten breakfast, I go over to check and find two neatly stacked piles of casino chips. In front of the piles is a note.

My fault we had to leave early last night, so I forfeit my winnings to you, Watson. Go get yourself the sickest sewing machine that money can buy.

Yours,

Jay.

P.S. Finishing myself off last night wasn’t nearly as satisfying as having someone else do it for me.

Oh, my God, he’s so cheeky…and I kind of love it. I pick up a chip and run my fingers over the plastic. I really shouldn’t accept these, but the prospect of buying a new machine today is too tempting to walk away from. I scoop them all up and drop them into my bag like a giddy child.

Later on during my lunch break, I take a trip to the casino to see if I can cash in the chips, hoping it’s open. Turns out it opens at ten in the morning, and there are actually people already there gambling when I go inside (which is a little depressing). At night there’s a sense of glamour, but in the light of day there’s a desperation about it all.

As it happens, Jessie is working on the booth when I go to cash in my chips.

“Ah, Matilda, good to see you again,” she says.

“You, too,” I reply, sliding the chips through to her.

“Funny, I don’t remember you winning all these last night,” she continues, suppressing a grin.

“I didn’t. Jay gave me his winnings as an apology for the, uh, punching incident.”

“Oh, yeah? That was generous of him,” she says. “You going on a big shopping spree?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. “In a sense, yes. I’m getting a new sewing machine. I make dresses and sell them online, but my old machine broke. Jay said he’d bring me to the casino to win enough for a new one, but obviously that didn’t work out.”

“Did you go to college for that? The dressmaking, I mean.”

I shake my head. “No, my mum taught me when I was little, and I did night classes when I was a teenager.”

“Cool. Well, here you go,” she says, and slides the cash out to me. I slip it into my purse and say goodbye.

I’m late getting home that evening as I lug the big brown box into the hallway. I drop it down on the floor and let out a long, heaving breath. That was some seriously heavy lifting, even if the walk from the bus stop was blessedly short. Dad’s in the living room, watching television. It looks like he ordered in a Chinese takeaway, because there are leftovers in the fridge. I heat some up and eat them quickly before getting right to work.

It’s after eleven when I finish up, tiredly packing the few orders I have into bubble-wrap envelopes for posting. Jay comes in the door just as I’m sealing the final one.

“Hey, you got it. Nice!” he exclaims, walking over to take a look at the new machine. It’s a pretty olive green with a sort of fifties-looking design.

“Yep. And I have you to thank for it,” I reply with a grateful smile. “How did your meetings go today?”

“Ah, shitty, really. Lawyers…I mean, solicitors are a bunch of old windbags. You could practically see the dollar signs in their eyes when I was speaking to them…or should I say euro signs?”

“Don’t let Dad hear you say that.”

“Your dad’s the exception. Is he still up? I need to get convincing him to take the case.”

“No, he went to bed about an hour ago,” I say, setting the stack of packages on the table.

Jay eyes them. “You need me to drop those to the post office for you in the morning?”

“Would you? I was going to go before work, but it might be cutting it a bit fine.”

“I’d be happy to. So, it’s Friday tomorrow. Any plans for the weekend?” He rubs his hands together.

I try to think. Then I remember Michelle’s adamant pleas for me to bring Jay for drinks with us. “Yes, actually. I’m going out with my friend tomorrow night. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Sounds good,” says Jay as he picks up two safety pins from a bunch I’d left by my sewing machine. He links them together and holds them up to show me.

“Safety pins, fascinating,” I murmur past a yawn.

He’s standing close to me now, and I watch as he repeatedly pulls the two apart, then links them back together like magic. It looks like metal is sliding seamlessly through metal.

“If I weren’t so tired, I’m sure I’d be able to figure out how you’re doing that,” I say softly.

His chest moves as he silently laughs. I bid him goodnight and then go to bed. When my head does finally hit the pillow, I’m overly aware of how Jay’s bed is right on the other side of the wall, our bodies barely a foot apart. I fall asleep thinking about how I wish I could bridge the gap.

***

Friday is a slow day. We only have appointments scheduled for before lunch, so once I’ve finished all my tasks, Dad says I can go home early. On my way to the bus, a car beeps its horn from behind me, and I turn to see Jay with his window rolled down, Jessie in the passenger seat beside him, smoking a cigarette.

“Want a ride?” Jay calls, his arm resting along the side of the window. A car behind him honks and then overtakes him. “Hop in.”

I hurry to the car and slide into the back seat. Jessie sticks her smoke in her mouth and says hello to me.

“You looking forward to tonight?” she asks.

“Yeah, are you coming with us?”

“I can’t. I’ve got a hot date with the cougar from the casino. You remember her?” The grin she gives me is devilish.

“I do.”

“I’m thinking she’s a sure thing, but you never know. I guess you’re out to trap yourself a fella tonight, then.”

My cheeks redden, and I think I catch Jay giving her a hard look through the overhead mirror. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of luck with men. I’ve actually been trying online dating, but I’m not sure if it’s for me.”

Jay’s eyes meet mine in the mirror briefly before flicking back to the road. I can tell he’s listening to all this intently, even though he’s acting like he isn’t.

“Yeah, I’ve met a few people online myself, but they mostly seem to be out for casual sex,” says Jessie. “Not that that’s a bad thing, but I’m guessing that’s not what you’re out for.” She gives me a sympathetic look.

Christ, could my cheeks get any redder? “No, not really,” I reply.

Jay raises one eyebrow. “What does ‘not really’ mean, Watson?”

I scratch at my arm. “Well, it’s not like I’d mind if there was sex involved. It’s just that it never seems to get that far. Michelle says it’s because I don’t give out vibes of availability. I give out ‘stay away from me’ vibes.” I laugh lightheartedly.

“Nothing wrong with that,” says Jay. “Your friend sounds like she wants you to act like a slut.”

“Jay!” Jessie exclaims.

I scowl. “Uh, no. That’s not it at all. Michelle is very supportive of me.”

“If you say so.”

“So, have you gone on many dates?” Jessie asks, still turned around in her seat to face me.

“Not with any of the online guys. They all seem so sleazy and only interested in sex.”

“Oh, you’re obviously on the wrong site, then. Here, give me your number, and I’ll send you a list of which sites are for hook-ups and which are for relationships.”

She hands me her phone, and I programme my number into her contacts. “Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” I say.

“In what way are they sleazy?” Jay asks, his brow furrowed. I could be mistaken, but there seems to be a protective note to his voice.

I swallow hard. “Oh, God. You really don’t want to know.”

Jay goes strangely silent, and his jaw is tight. He seems annoyed. We drop Jessie off at her apartment, and I wave goodbye while Jay pulls back onto the road.

“You shouldn’t be meeting up with random men anyway,” he says out of nowhere.

“Well, I haven’t, not yet. But if I do, I have a number of rules to follow.” I hold up my fingers as I list them off. “It has to be during the day in a public place — never go to somebody’s house alone. I have to tell Michelle and Dad exactly where I’m going. And most importantly, Michelle and I have code words to text if we need each other to call and pretend there’s an emergency. That’s only for if the date is really bad, although so far I’ve only had to do it for Michelle twice.”

His eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them that I can’t quite decipher. A minute or two of silence passes.

“I’ll help you,” he says then.

“Huh?”

“With the dating. I’ll teach you how to come across as available. I shouldn’t have said that about your friend earlier. I’m sorry. She’s actually on the right track with what she’s told you. Usually, people who are single show that they’re available through their body language, while people who are happily in a relationship don’t. Since you’re single but are supposedly giving out unavailable vibes, there must be a reason why.”

I fold my arms. “What kind of a reason?”

Jay shrugs. “It’s probably just anxiety or something like that. But don’t worry — we’ll figure it out.”