‘You intrigue me,’ he added.
‘And yet, you didn’t follow me.’
He laughed in a way that made Rose feel like he was well aware there were entire gossip forums dedicated to analysing the people he followed on social media. Every new person on his follower list was practically its own news story.
At one point, after Rose’s insistence, Milo showed her his fridge. He asked if she used to watch MTV Cribs as a kid, and she assured him that, like any sensible millennial woman, of course she had. Because what better way is there to understand a person than by seeing what food and drink they choose to store and, crucially, how they chose to store it? Inside Milo’s fridge was a carton of unsweetened soy milk, a takeaway box that looked like it had a half-eaten portion of noodles inside, three lime-green unlabelled bottles left over from a juice cleanse he did last week, an unopened block of butter and three bottles of Veuve Clicquot.
‘It all makes sense now,’ she said nodding.
‘Look, I’m never here. Especially not now while I’m touring.’
‘Of course.’
‘What’s in your fridge?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you. Privacy is very important to me.’
He smiled and lightly placed his hand on her arm.
It was easy to flirt with Milo. But it was harder to go beyond that, to find any kind of depth in their conversations. That didn’t matter, Rose thought. If this was all he was going to give her, it would still be an experience worth having, a story worth telling.
They’d been chatting for two hours when Rose felt a desperate urge to pee. This often happened when she was distracted. The calling signs from her bladder would go un-noticed until she was literally about to urinate on the floor.
‘Sorry, do you have a toilet?’ she asked, interrupting his story about the marble fireplace he was getting imported from Italy.
‘No, you have to go outside.’
‘Of course, you have a toilet. You’ve even shown me the bathroom. Sorry. I’m feeling a bit drunk now.’
‘Funnily enough, we keep the toilet in the bathroom. Go forth,’ he gestured his hand towards the living-room door.
Sitting on the toilet, Rose allowed her upper body to flop onto her lap so that her head was dangling in between her legs. The room was spinning and this was definitely making it worse but she couldn’t energise herself to lift her head up again. She wondered if there was a moment when she was supposed to leave and how that moment would be communicated. Would Milo start clearing up? Or would he say he was tired? Maybe he’d just tell her it was time for her to go. It was impossible to tell whether or not he was enjoying talking to her. What if he tried to kiss her? Should she try to kiss him? That might set off some sort of alarm system again.
She returned from using the bathroom after what felt like five hours to find Milo leaning against the fridge, watching her. They both smiled as she sidled next to him, neither of them uttering a word as their arms brushed against each other. Maybe he did want to kiss her.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ Rose asked.
‘On to the harder questions now, are we?’
‘I don’t think it’s a particularly hard question. If you have, I think you’ll know.’
‘There have been times when I’ve definitely felt like I was in love, I think. But that’s often the case.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, when you first hook up with someone you really like who likes you too, there’s that instant attraction, isn’t there? An intensity that sort of wakes you up. A rush.’
She nodded, trying not to blush.
‘It’s like, you want to spend every second of your time just being with that person to see what happens next. Like, even being in their presence makes you … better, I suppose. As if everything was black and white before and now it’s in technicolour.’
‘And you’ve felt that?’ she asked, wondering which romcom he’d plagiarised that metaphor from.
‘Yes. That I’ve felt. Many times. But I’m not sure that’s love.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I think love is supposed to feel different.’
‘Safe,’ she countered.
‘Yes, exactly,’ he smiled, turning to face her directly. ‘Whereas part of the fun of that first bit is that you don’t feel completely safe. You have no idea what’s to come – and that can be terrifying. But it’s also a turn-on. The real question, Rose, is have you ever been in love?’
‘No. Never.’
‘But you’ve had relationships?’
‘Sort of.’ She decided not to tell him about Ed.
‘Good ones?’
‘I feel like you’re interviewing me.’
‘Maybe I am. It’s quite nice being on the other side of the table.’
‘Can I ask you some questions now?’
He sighed and walked over to a half-drunk bottle of gin and topped up his glass without offering to top up Rose’s. ‘What do you want to know?’
