Love Your Life(47)

    Carefully, in tiny gradual movements, I edge off the bed and into a standing position. I glance down at Matt to ensure he’s still sleeping, then creep out of the room. Luckily the floor doesn’t squeak, which is the only plus point of this place.

I tiptoe into the kitchen, turn on the light, and switch on the kettle to make myself a comforting cup of tea. You can’t have a cup of tea in the middle of the night without a biscuit, but as I poke around the cupboards, I can’t find any snacks, except roasted nuts and crisps. Where are the biscuits? Everyone has biscuits in their kitchen. No one doesn’t have biscuits.

As I exhaust one cupboard, then another, my search becomes more urgent. I’m not giving up. They have to have some biscuits. “All I want is a digestive,” I mutter to myself furiously, as I search behind bottles of ketchup and cans of baked beans. Or a Hobnob. Or a shortbread, a custard cream, anything…

And then, as I’m investigating an unlikely cupboard full of tonic water, I gasp in glee. Yes! A tub of chocolate rolls! I don’t care who they belong to, I don’t care what the flatmates’ rules are, I am sitting down with a cup of tea and two chocolate rolls right here, right now, and no one can stop me.

My mouth is already salivating as I grab the tub. I need these. I will love Matt far better if I can just have a couple of chocolate rolls, and maybe he should know that. As I prize off the lid, my fingers are quivering in excitement—but then I freeze in horror. What the…What?

    As I gape down, I can’t believe it. The tub is full of phone chargers, all twisted around one another. There’s no chocolate. No chocolate.

“Noooo!” I wail, before I can stop myself. “Noooo!”

I desperately empty out the phone chargers onto the counter, in case they’re somehow only the top layer—but there’s not a scrap of a chocolate roll. Not a crumb.

And now rage is starting to brew in me. What kind of twisted, warped person puts phone chargers in a tub labeled chocolate rolls? It’s playing mind games, is what it is. It’s gaslighting.

“Ava.” Matt’s voice makes me jolt and I look up to see him at the kitchen door, peering at me with sleepy eyes. His hair is on end, his face is sleep-crumpled, and he looks alarmed. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say, my voice a little tense. “Sorry if I woke you. It’s just…I thought there were chocolate rolls in here.”

“What?” he says in puzzlement—then his eyes focus on the tub. “Oh. We keep chargers in that.”

“Oh, really?” I say, but Matt’s not quite awake yet and he doesn’t seem to notice my tone.

“Why are you up at five A.M.?” He comes into the room, looking anxious.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well.” He rubs his face. “They do say that if you allow a dog in your bed—”

“It’s not Harold!” I exclaim indignantly. “Harold’s not the problem! It’s the room! It’s freezing!”

    “Freezing?” He seems astounded. “My room?”

“Yes, your room! It’s like an igloo! And your bed is…” I catch sight of his worried face and rein myself in. “It’s just…you know. Different from mine.”

“Right,” says Matt, digesting this. “I guess it would be.” He comes up to me and puts an arm round me. “Ava, let me run you a warm bath. Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” I admit. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

I take my cup of tea back to bed and sit stroking Harold, letting his presence soothe me, listening to the bathwater run into the tub.

“It’s ready,” says Matt at last, and I peel off my pajamas, already cheering up at the prospect. Matt’s bath is generously sized, and I can smell some kind of nice musky bath essence. “Thank you so much,” I say gratefully to Matt as I step into the scented water and sit down. Then I gasp forcefully as the lukewarm water meets my skin. What the hell is this?

“Sorry!” I exclaim in dismay. “This is…It’s not…” I’m already standing up, water streaming off me. “It’s tepid! I’ll freeze in here! Sorry.”

“Tepid?” Matt gapes at me. “It’s warm!” He dips his arm into the water. “Warm!”

Is he telling me I’m wrong? About my own body temperature?

“It’s not warm enough for me.” I can hear tension in my voice again. “I like it really warm.”

“But…” Matt’s arm is still in the water, and he’s gazing at me in disbelief.

For a moment we stare at each other, both breathing hard. Things feel almost…confrontational. Then, as though realizing this, Matt removes his arm from the bath and steps back, drying it on a hand towel.

    “Let’s not sweat it,” he says carefully. “You let some water out, Ava, run it the way you want it.”

“OK,” I say, equally carefully. “Thanks.”

I step out, wrap a large towel round me, let out half the bath and start running hot into it. Apart from the sound of the streaming water, there’s silence. We seem to be good at silences.

As I swoosh my hand back and forth, I’m letting a few unwelcome thoughts stray into my head. I know Matt’s the perfect man for me, I know he is, but there are just a few aspects of his life which are…what? Not negative, definitely not, but…challenging. The weird art. The golf. The meat. The parents.