In Bed With Lord Byron

oddly itchy and uncomfortable. I had never really liked sleeping with Anthony; I often found myself tossing and turning, easily woken by his snores. I remembered how Sally had
told me that being able to sleep with someone was the ultimate test of a relationship; a good deep sleep was a sign that you felt truly relaxed in their company.
    Suddenly Anthony woke with a jolt. Seeing me, he broke into a smile of such spontaneous warmth that I felt joy and relief suffuse my body. He leaned in and I responded instinctively, sharing a
long, warm, loving kiss. Then he drew back, staring at my face, stroking my cheek gently with the back of his hand.
    ‘Move in with me,’ he said.
    ‘What?’ I whispered. I let out an awkward laugh. ‘I think you’re still hungover from last night.’
    ‘No, I’m not. Move in with me.’
    I lowered my eyes.
    ‘Lucy?’
    ‘Well – it
is
a bit sudden. I mean, it’s a bit early in the morning for this.’
    ‘Oh? So there’s a recognised time of day for asking someone to move in with you? I ought to wait until lunchtime, then?’
    ‘No, I just meant . . . ’
    He stared at me fiercely; I kept my eyes on his chest, on the fine layer of dark hair that tapered to a V at his belly-button.
    He suddenly rolled over and lay back in bed with a big, frustrated sigh. My cheek felt cool where his warm hand had been.
    ‘Well don’t get mad at me!’ I cried. ‘I’m sorry – I’m just . . . I mean, it’s not every day you wake up next to someone and they ask you to move
in with them.’
    ‘No, I should think not.’ Anthony turned back to face me with a smile of warmth and pain. He began to circle his arms around me again, but I pulled away. I saw his face flicker and I
smiled apologetically, lowering my eyes.
    Now that Anthony’s embrace had slipped away like a shawl, I suddenly realised how cold the room was. Goose pimples began to wake up and dance over my skin.
    ‘The thing is,’ Anthony said, and I knew he was trying to keep his voice steady, but it trembled with just the faintest intonation of anger, ‘this is silly, Lucy. I mean, it
all seems so simple to me. We’re meant to be together. It’s obvious . . . isn’t it? I just feel that over the last few weeks . . . it’s as though we’ve never really
broken up. Don’t you?’
    I remained silent.
    ‘I mean,’ Anthony went on, ‘it’s not as though we’ve even
tried
to really go out with anyone else. I’ve had a couple of dating agency fiascos, and
you’ve been like Mother Teresa.’
    I looked down, blushing. Then, suddenly, I felt an irrational surge of anger. A minute ago I had been lying in a bubble of bliss, eager to savour the day with Anthony. Why did he have to
rush
everything? Why did he always have to press the fast-forward button? What was wrong with just taking things slowly?
    ‘So . . . ’ Anthony trailed off. ‘What about it? Why not move in together?’
    ‘Well . . . I . . . I mean . . . ’ I raised my eyes. ‘Couldn’t we . . . just . . . date each other like we did before?’
    Anthony’s eyes flashed with intensity, with love, with exasperation. ‘Lucy – I just feel it’s taking a step back. It’s . . .
stagnant
. Look, things
can’t stay the same; the nature of life is change. Things either progress, or they die. And I think we have to move on, you know, grow up, grow together.’
    Grow up
. The words made me flinch. Did I really have a Peter Pan complex? Or was I just a woman who wanted her independence?
    ‘But . . . ’ I began.
    Then his mobile rang.
    ‘Fuck.’
    ‘You should get it.’
    ‘I’ll ignore it.’
    ‘No, get it.’
    Anthony rolled over and took it. It was work. He tried saying he was busy, but the person on the line just kept jabbering. Judging from Anthony’s expletives, it sounded like a crisis of
earthquake proportions.
    I slid out of bed and quickly pulled on my clothes. I felt better. Being naked made me feel vulnerable; clothes made me stronger, a fortress around me.
    Only I couldn’t find my knickers. I searched about desperately, but – nothing. Suddenly I felt almost panicky. I can’t be here, I kept thinking, I can’t have this
discussion. I’m an independent young woman, I don’t have to move in with him, I can do what I like. It was as though my independence was a candle that Anthony wanted to blow out. I
couldn’t quite understand why or think it through or analyse it, I was just desperate to cup my palms around it and keep it