Jada lifted her coffee to her lips and glanced back at the monitor in which her essay on Poe’s ‘The Raven’ had become a blur of black on white. She sighed. The deadline was tomorrow and she was not halfway towards meeting the word count. Her mind had been anywhere but on her studies recently.

She’d just returned her hand to the mouse when her mobile sounded with a new message.

It was him; she knew that before she even picked up the handset.

She read the message on the screen: ‘Be there in ten.’

Her heart lurched. They’d agreed that these meetings should stop. For his sake as much as hers. But it had been three weeks since last they met and she’d be lying if she said she was happy with her decision.

Before she could question herself, she sent a reply: ‘Leaving now’.

As she pulled on her jacket, she felt a flutter of hope; perhaps he had something to tell her.

The spot in which they met was down a narrow passageway between the accommodation block and laundrette. She’d asked him so many times to come to her room, but he reminded her of the risk involved, of all that he could lose if someone saw them. It was always about him.

He was standing under the ultraviolet light that was mounted on the launderette wall, flicking his Zippo lighter on and off, on and off, on and off.

‘I didn't think you’d come,’ he said.

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

He cupped her face firmly in his hands and kissed her with an intensity that was all too familiar. The cool of his wedding ring pressed against her cheek, as familiar as the taste of tobacco on his tongue.

When his hands dropped to her waist and he tried to turn her to face the wall, she resisted.

‘Have you told her yet?’ she asked.

As if stung, he pulled his hands away. ‘Not this again.’
Jada leaned against the wall. She pulled up the zip of her hooded top and crossed her arms tight over her chest.

‘You said you’d tell her,’ she said. ‘You said you wouldn’t call me again unless you told her. So? Have you told her?’

He looked away, cleared his throat. ‘Look,’ he began. ‘I know what I said, but we need to be practical about this. You’re a student – you’re my student – you’re young. You don’t know what you want.’

She pursed her lips. ‘Don’t patronize me. I’m not a kid.’
‘I thought we were just having fun. You knew the situation.’

‘You lied to me.’

He let out a sigh. ‘Look, this was obviously a mistake,’ he said. ‘Let me walk you back.’

‘I’m fine on my own.’

‘Don’t be stubborn. It’s late.’

He rested a hand on her arm, his touch uncharacteristically tender. She pulled away.

It was when he reached for her again that she slapped him. The sudden sound was a satisfying crack that startled her as much as it must have him.

He stared at her, open-mouthed, his hand on his cheek. Not once had she so much as questioned him, and, for a horrible moment, she thought that he was going to return the blow. She flinched in anticipation.

But instead he said simply, ‘I deserved that. Look, how about-,’

She held up her hand to cut him off. ‘This is over now, Carl. Never call me again. Is that clear?’

Without waiting for a response, she walked away, leaving him in the dark that he’d kept her all this time.