I can’t express how unexpected the whole thing was. You spoke the words so naturally. Like I was yours. You were mine.

‘What . . . what about Harris?’

‘I’ve told you. Fuck Harris.’

You tugged at my arm to twist me towards you. I grabbed on to the cold metal gearstick to steady myself. And then, as you know, it was as it always was. More than just a kiss. Although the air was biting, your mouth was warm, soothing. Your hands weaved my hair. Hurting, pulling. Then you separated from me, your breaths heavy, white with cold.

‘We could just stay here,’ you said.

If I’d known that would be the last time we’d have sex, I would have treasured it more. It made me high, feeling how much you wanted me. How urgently you needed to be inside my body. But it was somewhat hindered by logistics. The awkwardness as you shuffled across to my seat and manoeuvred me on top. My head repeatedly knocking against the car roof. How when it was over, and you’d pushed me up and pulled out, you came all over my coat. I was conscious throughout it all. Of the light going on and off in the house, the dog’s barks, Dr Harris.

Once we were untangled and back in our respective seats, you leant over – I presumed for the cuddle I craved, but your arm carried on past me and flicked open the glove compartment.

‘Sorry about that,’ you said. ‘I’ve got tissues in there somewhere.’

Hampered by lack of vision, I removed as many sheets as I could from the soft plastic packet and passed some of the collection to you. I could hear you wiping yourself down, zipping yourself up. Once finished, you shoved the tissues into the door pocket and I could then just make out both your hands on the steering wheel.

‘So, what are you doing tonight?’ Your fingers drummed against the leather.

‘Nothing . . . I was just going to go home. Have some dinner.’

‘With your fella?’

I nodded, furiously and blindly scrubbing the wet patch on my coat. Wanting you to make a fuss. Tell me how you didn’t like it. Show your jealousy once more.

‘Well, that’ll be nice.’ You reached for your coat, which had been thrown into the back, and retrieved your wallet. ‘Look, I . . . I feel awful doing this again, but here . . .’ You pulled out some notes and handed them to me. ‘You make it so difficult for me to stop once we start . . . but we can’t risk it, can we? I’m so sorry . . . If I could take the pill for you, I would.’

I took the money, scrunched it in my hand and pushed it into my bag. ‘Sure,’ I said.

‘I suppose we’d better head off.’

Another house lit up. I could see from the clock that only twenty minutes had passed since I got in the car.