The Other Half Lives

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I didn’t want to go first.

Three seconds ago-four-I had said, ‘All right.’ Now Aidan was watching me. Waiting. I bit back the words Why me? You suggested it-why don’t you start? To ask would have made him think I didn’t trust him, and I didn’t want to sully the moment by saying something petty.

The air around us felt charged, taut with anticipation. Energy radiated from our clammy, clasped hands. ‘It doesn’t have to be everything,’ Aidan whispered. ‘Just… as much as we can…’ Unable to finish the sentence, he decided he already had. ‘As much as we can,’ he said again, stressing the last word. His warm breath settled on my skin every few seconds, like a tide of air that kept sucking out, then blowing back in. We hadn’t moved from our spot at the foot of the bed, in front of the mirror, but it seemed, suddenly, as though everything was speeding up. Our faces gleamed with sweat, as if we’d run for miles, when in fact all our movements-through the hotel’s revolving glass door, towards reception, into and out of the lift, along the narrow spotlit corridor to the closed door with a gold ‘436’ on it-had been slow and deliberate, a thousand heartbeats to the footstep. We both knew something was waiting for us inside the room, something that could only be put off for so long.

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