She nodded, holding his gaze. His breathing was audible, the streetlamp catching the little spikes of stubble along his jaw, casting them silver. The T-shirt he wore beneath his jacket was wrinkled and creased, and she wondered if he’d been wearing it in bed when his phone had rung. She imagined she could catch the warm funk of sleep from it still. The length of time they were looking at each other, unspeaking, seemed to stretch to a point where what happened next felt inevitable. She leaned towards him, her lips finding his, the dry smoothness of his mouth sending shooting sparks of desire pinging around her body. And then he pulled back and said: ‘Whoa there,’ and her eyes snapped open. She saw his expression clarifying into one of alarm. With a plunge of horror, she realized he was leaning away from her, shaking his head in the negative, saying:

‘Listen, Eva, I’m flattered but you’ve got the wrong idea …’

She clapped her hands over her face, not wanting to see the look he was giving her, needing to block it all out.

‘I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,’ he went on desperately.

‘No, it’s my fault.’ Her voice came weakly through the nest of her hands. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’

‘Don’t be. Hey, if I was ten years younger …’ He let the sentence trail off.

‘God, I’m an idiot.’ The tears started flowing.

He didn’t say anything, just let out a loud exhalation, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

‘Your wife is so pretty,’ she said then, and he remarked:

‘Yeah. But it’s not everything.’

She thought he sounded a little bitter, hidden layers of meaning caught within those few words.

‘Please don’t tell her about this,’ she said, taking her hands away from her face, and he lowered his chin and gave her a serious look.

‘I’m not going to keep secrets from my wife, Eva.’

She wanted to say that he’d already lied to his wife about the phone call.

‘I’ll wait here until you’re safely inside.’

Her legs felt wobbly, the whole strangeness of the night washing through her, but for just those moments, she was able to put all of that to one side, remembering the dryness of his lips against hers and holding fast to the knowledge that his eyes were fixed on her as she walked all the way to her house.

13

There was another party happening that night: Sasha Harte was hosting a goodbye bash for the French students. Beth – and by extension, Corinne – had not been invited.