“You.”
“I thought so,” Claire said and kissed me. Her lips seemed to stick to mine, her breath felt hot on my skin. She took my hand and, like silly teenagers, we jumped off the train. I couldn’t wait to get to the hotel, to throw her on the bed or, more accurately, have her shove me down on it and top me like she had always done.

At three in the morning I got up. I couldn’t sleep. We had taken a taxi straight from the station and had fallen into each other’s arms the minute we slammed the door of our room shut. As though the soft thud with which it fell in the lock was a trigger that made us both go mad. It had been frantic at first, a long-awaited event, a party of flesh and saliva, a meeting of skin and tongues. Claire had fallen asleep about an hour ago but the mind-fuck of being in Paris with her was too much for my brain. I could barely remember what had happened the hours before. What we had said and done had all blurred together into one big sleazy mess in my head. I watched Claire as her chest heaved with her slow intake of breaths. Our reunion had not disappointed me, not physically at least, but it had definitely confused me. I contemplated waking her but I figured I should probably let her get some sleep. I wondered how she did it though, how she turned everything off and just closed her eyes. I supposed it came with the experience of fucking strangers all the time. Her body must have gotten used to that kind of adrenalin. Maybe it made her sleepy.

Unwashed, I slipped into my clothes and quietly closed the door behind me. I needed to feel Paris and let the night wrap itself around me. I had lived here for two years. Two years of heartbreak with Claire. So what the hell was I doing back here? With her? The time it had taken me to put her behind me for once and for all, to not flinch at the mention of her name, to not shudder at the thought of her brown eyes boring into mine when she fucked me. And where was I now? Back to square one? It rained lightly, the raindrops danced under the street lamps as they made their way, slowly, to the concrete pavement, hardly staining it − that’s how small and insignificant they were. What did I want now that we had slept together and that particular itch had been scratched? All I knew was that I needed to protect myself, steel my heart against Claire’s ruthless attacks. And what was she after? She obviously hadn’t changed her ways. I had learnt that soon enough. Despite all the pain she had caused me when we were together, it had taken me ages to tear myself away from her. I even had to move away from Paris for it. I couldn’t allow this to happen again. I knew that much. But did she still love me? I bet she would say yes when I asked her. I promised myself never to do so.

It was a Friday night but the city was quiet and dying down after a dazzling Paris night − one we had missed. I focussed on the sound of my shoes on the sidewalk and fell into a fast-paced rhythm. I kept walking until I faced our old apartment building. The front door was painted dark blue now but apart from that nothing had changed. Emile, the owner of the restaurant downstairs just pulled his curtains shut. Either he didn’t recognise me or didn’t want to. Fuck, I thought, if only I could have kept it in my pants, then I wouldn’t be here with Claire Burns now, revisiting my past and all those unhappy memories. Because I had a lot of those.

To be continued…