She kneed him hard in the stomach, sprang off the bed. He was doubled over, gasping. ‘Psycho bitch. That hurt.’

She should pick up the bedside lamp and smash it over his head. Kick him. From this height she could land a good blow on his ear, set the bells ringing. ‘Lucky I didn’t do worse.’

‘Jesus, calm down. You said mean shit to me, I said mean shit back. No need to get violent.’

‘You’re a nasty, spoilt little cunt.’

‘And you’re a foul-mouthed houso slut, but I still want to be with you, so why don’t you calm down, come back over here and kiss me better.’ He lay back, eyes closed, pointing to his lower stomach.

Like nothing had happened. It hadn’t, had it? Not for him.

‘You want to be with me? Really? Even though I’m damaged goods. Wow.’

‘You say that a lot. Wow. It’s irritating. But, yeah, Harris, I actually do want to be with you and not just like this, either. I’m into you, you psycho.’

‘Sure you are. So into me you want to fuck me then take me to your college parties so everyone can see how much you’ve owned the six-out-of-ten bitch with the ugly arm wound?’

He flopped back on the bed. ‘You’re not ever going to let it go, are you?’

‘Seriously? It happened, like, ten days ago!’

‘I don’t see how we can be together going forward if you’re always harping on about this one mistake I made.’

‘How about this: I’ll get over it when the file is no longer anywhere on the internet.’ She walked to the bathroom, dressed fast. Didn’t even look at the heavenly, purifying, life-affirming shower because she didn’t want to change her mind.

When she went back into the room, fully clothed, his face fell. ‘You’re seriously leaving?’

‘Yeah. Don’t contact me again.’

‘Fuck you. You’re the one who asked for this.’ He spread his arms wide, taking in the whole fresh-smelling, dust-free, smudge-less, uncluttered loveliness.

‘Yeah, well, I’m a psycho bitch, like you said.’ She pulled his phone from her backpack, chucked it hard at the wall. Didn’t hear the crack of glass, which would be just his sweet luck. And she left, hair still wet from the magic shower, tongue still tingling with salt and fat.

When she turned her phone back on, there were no new messages from Will. Nothing from Nic. But there among the unknown numbers and caller ID unavailable, between a message from Annie and one from college admin, was Kylie.

Whatcha up to girl Bubbas at mums tonight wanna hang

The message had come in two hours ago, at 7 p.m.

Lena texted back: Sorry just got this. Are you still up and keen to hang?

Kylie answered straight away: Come now I have sambucca