Page 54 of Sex Ed

‘Oh, well, when we’re done here, show me where the controls are and I can sort that. It should be easy to reset.’

She breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you so much.’ She stands up and opens the drawer, taking out a corkscrew and opening the wine.

‘Do you know how much a plumber was going to charge me for coming round and doing that for me?’ she moans.

‘And I’m better than a plumber, I also bring dinner,’ I tell her.

‘Exactly.’

‘I tell you, this new house thing is a nightmare. I keep bidding for pieces of furniture on Facebook marketplace, too, and nothing comes of it. It’s so annoying…’

This is not something I know much about, but I make an effort to sound interested. ‘What do you need?’

‘Well, I need a coffee table. Something to bring the room together.’ She shows me something on her phone. It’s exactly the sort of industrial modernist piece I would choose, drawers for your remote controls so they’d never get lost, a shelf for assorted books and a tissue box.

‘That is nice. You have excellent taste.’

‘Why, thank you. So, after this and you sorting my heating, do you have more plans for this evening?’

I’m not quite sure how to respond to that. I thought we could chat over wine on your sofa, we could watch something on Netflix and see where the evening takes us? This is too open-ended.

‘Well…’

‘How are you with painting? I thought it’d be easy, but my finishing is awful. How’s your finishing?’

I take a large mouthful of udon as she says that. I’m a bit quick off the mark, to be honest. I don’t say that out loud.

There is one thing I know that will certainly need to happen after tonight. I will need new jeans. Even though I was able to strip down to a T-shirt to help her paint, there is splatter on these trousers that will never shift as I also used gloss to help with her skirting boards. The way I look now, it does appear that I’m a huge fan of bukkake and that’s not a good look. I get up off the floor and straighten my back, hearing it click as I do so. I’ll be able to tell Mia I had a lovely evening. It was that sort of fun courting ritual you see in films where we laughed at the forced proximity every time we met in the corners of the rooms, showing each other our glossy hands. She was also on all fours for most of the evening but it was so we could tackle her skirting. Even then, I wouldn’t know how to manage that position as I’ve not covered that in my sex tutorials.

‘What I don’t understand, though, is why we are pushing so much funding towards the arts?’ Caitlin adds.

Whilst both of us have been crawling along the floor, we’ve also had the time to converse like grown adults. This is what I always thought a relationship would be like (bar the painting). Chats in a grown up flat, over wine, about topics that are meaningful and make sense of the world.

‘I guess it’s to let the kids have a broader spectrum of thinking. It encourages better creativity, decision making, the ability to express themselves freely,’ I add.

‘True but I really think this is why we’re missing out on people looking at STEM subjects as they get older,’ she argues, also standing up. ‘Ed, high-five me. I think we’ve done an excellent job tonight.’

I’m not a high-five person but I do what I’m told, giving a large sigh as her back is turned. The problem is, she is perfect for me in terms of compatibility. We are into the same things, she liked how I paired the wine to the noodles and when I looked in her loft to adjust her heating controls, all the boxes were labelled. Labelling keeps this world sane, I am sure of it.

‘I’ve had a really fun night,’ I tell her, hoping I don’t sound too boring in that household chores bring me joy.

‘You were excellent company, thank you for everything.’

There’s a moment when we’re standing there awkwardly looking around the room.

‘We should soak your brushes,’ I suggest. ‘I hope you have turps.’ She nods and smiles.

She’s very pretty and perfect in so many ways, but I have no idea what I need to do here. Say, I’ve just learnt a simple box step in the waltz and how to salsa. Fancy a dance on your dust sheets? I’ve also learnt how to give orgasms recently, but I think that might be a step too far. I need to complain to my sex course provider again because none of what I’ve learnt helps here.

‘Maybe a cup of tea?’ she says, trying to break the ice. Or keep me here? I don’t know.

I follow her to the kitchen and put her brushes in the sink, running the tap as she comes over to fill up the kettle. Interact. Do something. Anything, Ed. And as her arm is against mine, I lean over and kiss her. Is it a bit misaimed? Are my hands still in the sink? Is she holding the kettle? Yes. But I do it. She seems a little surprised but then puts the kettle down. My hands move to the back of her head. Her body presses against mine, the sweet taste of wine still in her mouth.

TWELVE

MIA

‘Hi!’

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