Page 25 of Meet Me in Berlin

Eva places her mug on the side table and slides in beside me, fiddling with the hem of my vest top. ‘I worry when you go out with her.’

I laugh a little too hard. ‘Why?’

She watches me for a few seconds. ‘People must try it on with you.’

I quickly turn away and put my own coffee down before she can clock my guilt. ‘Sometimes, but it doesn’t mean I do anything about it.’

‘But it might turn into a bender and you’ll sleep with someone else again.’

About three months after Eva and I met, we had a massive barney and split. Jaz and I drank too much, took way too many drugs, and I woke the next day in a strange bed with a strange woman. Eva and I reconciled a few weeks later and I told her what had happened. But last night was the first time I’ve even come close to crossing that boundary.

I slip my arm around her, drawing her in. ‘That was a different situation that had nothing to do with Jaz. You also slept with someone then, and I don’t give you a hard time. And we had split up,’ I remind her.

‘I only slept with someone else to pay you back,’ she says sulkily.

‘So, we’re even. Leave it now,’ I say, kissing her forehead.

She frowns. ‘Okay, but can you please ask Jaz to behave herself at the wedding? I don’t want her getting off with the other bridespeople.’

I grin. ‘She’s totally going to cop off with someone. You know how much she loves to pull at a wedding, especially if it’s one of the bridal party – she gives herself extra points for that.’

Eva runs her hand across the bare skin between my vest top and pyjama shorts. ‘I’m just saying, I don’t trust her. She doesn’t like me, and I feel like she’s trying to take you away.’

‘Of course she likes you. She’s just…’ I shrug. ‘Jaz.’

She pouts. ‘You might’ve got off with someone in the toilets last night.’

I roll my eyes. ‘I didn’t get off with anyone in the toilets, okay? It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.’

She gives a delicate little grunt. ‘So common.’

I bristle. She knows I hate that phrase – about anyone – but I don’t rise to it. Instead, I shrug and say, ‘Well, that’s me.’

She walks her fingers along my bare arm. ‘I don’t mind a bit of rough.’

I give a short laugh. ‘I’m hardly a bit of rough, Eva. Besides, everyone’s rough compared to you.’

Her fingertip trails my chest and my nipple hardens under the thin fabric. ‘Oh, I don’t know … your tattoos and cropped hair. Your androgynous charm and East London accent. It does it for me.’ She slips her hand under my top and runs her palm over my breast.

I sink down into the bed, a heat spreading between my legs, and I hate that she has this power over me. She jumps up, closes the curtains and strips off her T-shirt. I moan as my eyes roam her naked body. ‘Eva, I’m exhausted.’

She straddles my waist and bends down to kiss me, soft lips and hot tongue against mine. I sigh and run my hands up her thighs. She sits up, reaches behind and slips her hand inside my pyjama shorts. ‘Are you really too exhausted?’

‘I need to chill,’ I say, but can’t help pushing against her hand.

‘Please come with me this afternoon?’ she pleads.

‘Oh, Eva,’ I whine.

She shuffles her knees up and places them either side of my head. My eyes drift down before meeting her gaze.

She smirks. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’

‘Fuck, Eva,’ I say, and press my mouth between her legs.

Eva and her friend Leila are set up at Eva’s parents’ dining table with laptops, notepads, champagne and a platter of figs, cheese and nuts. Dante is on FaceTime and the three of them are gushing over table settings. I’m on a stool at the island bench, chatting to Eva’s mum about the long-standing barrister career she’s about to retire from. I warmed to Rosa as soon as we met and I love that she always asks about my family, my job and the art in the gallery.

Rosa tops up my red wine and calls across the kitchen to Eva. ‘Oh, sweetheart, good news. That chef you wanted for the reception has confirmed.’ She recorks the wine. ‘I can’t remember her name – your father arranged it.’

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