Alexei And Grace

15 | Tinder Crisis

WHEN I ARRIVED BACK AT the flat I shared with my father, it was late at night and darkness had fallen. I drove home in a daze, barely focused enough to stop at red lights or keep track of where I was going. When I got in, dad had gone to bed but Jonah was dozing on the La-Z-Boy in front of the TV. There was a box of half eaten pizza gone cold on the table beside him and an empty can of Stellar he'd dropped on the floor when he fell asleep.

Silently, I tip-toed around the chair to pick up the rubbish without waking him. It was late, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep after the adrenaline rush I'd just undergone. Equally, I didn't want to wake Jonah. I couldn't tell him what had happened tonight, and I was sure he'd be quick to ask questions.

          The TV was still playing some late night show quietly in the background of the room, providing a welcome distraction from my thoughts. I went over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Over the distant, blurry London skyline no stars twinkled in the inky darkness; the whole world seemed to be swathed in a thick coating of black permeated only by the dim glow of streetlights. I wondered if Alex was looking up at the same sky. I wondered where he was, in the metropolis of skyscrapers and houses and millions of people. I wondered what he was doing.

          I checked my watch. It was almost half eleven; to some the night was young. I had nine and a half hours to make my decision—nine and a half hours until a car would pull up on the street outside and I would either stay or go.

          "Grace?" Jonah's sleep-lulled voice sounded from behind me and I startled. I turned around and he was stood by my right shoulder, staring out of the window. His eyes met mine. "Where did you go?" he asked. "It's late."

          My stomach twisted with guilt sharply but I pushed it down. "Lena's," I said. "She was, um—well, she was having a crisis over this guy she met on Tinder and—"

          "Lena called around here earlier, Grace," Jonah said calmly. "While you were out. She was wondering where you were."

          "I—oh." I floundered for an excuse while Jonah's eyes watched me curiously. He didn't look angry or upset, yet I couldn't quite make out what he was thinking. "Um—"

He placed a hand on my shoulder and I noticed how normal that touch felt—flat and without spark. It didn't feel like that when Alexei touched me. "Where were you, Grace?" Jonah asked gently. His eyes were soft and searching. "You can tell me."

Why did he sound understanding? Why wasn't he angry with me? I stared back at him, abjection growing in my chest. He should have been furious. He should demand to know where I'd been, he should—stop. I was only feeling this way because of my own guilt. It churned inside me beneath the gentleness of Jonah's gaze.

I shook my head slightly and turned back to the window, muttering, "does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," he said.

"I don't have to inform you of every breath I take, Jonah," I retorted icily.

His hand fell off my shoulder. "That's true, you don't have to tell me anything. I just wanted to know that you were okay. Are you tired? Should we go to bed?"

"No."

"Okay," he sighed. "Do you want me to stay up with you?"

Another wave of irritation washed over me and, digging my curled fists around the edge of the radiator beneath the window, I shook my head, "no."