Chapter 9

9

When Cooper answers his door, his brows are already furrowed, like he’s preempting the disappointment of our interaction. I think I’ve only ever seen him smile once. Back when he first moved in, he walked by me in the hall. He was on the phone to someone, absolutely beaming. I remember him doing a little bow of greeting as I passed, his eyes lingering on mine for an amount of time that was frankly a little awkward.

His body mostly blocks the doorway, but I can tell from the light behind him that his blinds are closed, only the blue hue of computer screens illuminating the room. “What now?” he sighs.

His attitude stinks.

“Just checking to see if the rumours were true,” I say extra breezily. “That you do sit alone in a darkened room all day, trolling strangers on Twitter for kicks. Biiiig incel energy.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “My house is darkened because it’s thirty-three degrees outside and this is an old building with thick walls. And I don’t use Twitter.” He fake smiles and moves to close his door, but I put my foot in the doorway before he can.

“Hold up…Can I come in?”

“No.”

“I…I need some help as soon as possible,” I say—a sentence I’ve only ever said twice in my life: once to a cashier when I couldn’t find the ripe-and-ready avocados in the corner shop, and the other time when I saw a pigeon and a rat having a fight outside Ladbroke Grove tube station.

I can see that Cooper really doesn’t want to let me in, but posh-boy politeness gets the better of him and he steps back, opening the door with a barely concealed grumble.

I step into his flat and notice that it’s much bigger than mine. In fact, it’s even bigger than Mr. Yoon’s. I take a look around. It looks like the home of someone much warmer and more interesting than Cooper. The walls are crammed with bookcases and art and framed pictures of vintage paperback covers. The sofa is a stripy cream fabric, covered with plump velvet scatter cushions in a dense Prussian blue. I gasp as I spot an original fireplace, the black cast iron almost pewter with age.

“Lucky!” I breathe. “Does it work?”

“I think so.”

“You think so? If I had a fireplace like that, it would be lit the whole time.”

“Even in a heat wave?”

“I’d have a cold bath first and not get dressed so that I could feel the benefits.”

His eyebrow quirks upwards a smidge.

Above the fireplace, there’s a large black-framed line drawing hanging in pride of place. It’s an ink drawing of a naked woman, posing with her back turned. It’s beautiful and more erotic than I would expect to be hanging in the living room of someone like sour-faced Cooper. I stand in front of the picture and admire it for a little longer.

“Is there something I can help you with, or did you come by to inspect my belongings?”

I spin around and point at the desk to the left of the fireplace, the one with three computer screens lighting the room with a neon glow. These computers are lit up every time I come to collect a parcel from Cooper’s flat. “You’re a computer guy, right?”

“I…yes, I suppose I am these days. Are you having trouble with your laptop? There’s a repair shop over on Queensway.”

“No…” I wander over to the computer and squint at the biggest screen in the middle. It’s covered in rows of numbers and symbols I don’t understand. “I’m here about the man I’m looking for…The…”

“The gentleman with whom you hooked up all over this town?”

I flush red. “Yes, him. I’ve been reading through the books I got from the library. The first one said that I should do a public directory search. But there were so many Jonahs in London that I got overwhelmed and didn’t know where to begin. So I wondered if you, with your computer whizzery, knew how I could hurry up the process?”

Cooper shakes his head. “I’m afraid now is not a good time. I’m busy. Perhaps in a day or two I can have a look.”

“Why did you let me in if you weren’t going to help me?”

“I didn’t know the nature of the request. Now I do.”

“I don’t have time to wait a day or two!”

Cooper folds his arms, his shirt straining across unreasonably large shoulders. “Why?”

“Um, well. I think with, uh, chlamydia, time is of the essence. I mean, I, of course, was treated immediately and am now—“

“Clean as a whistle. You mentioned.”

God. “Yes, but Jonah…He doesn’t know. And he should definitely know. It’s the responsible thing to do. I mean, you would hate it if Little Cooper was in peril and you had zero clue!”

I clamp my mouth shut, the words Little Cooper hanging horrifyingly in the air.

“Great.” Big Cooper narrows his eyes for a moment. “Okay. I think perhaps you should go. I’m sorry, Delphie, but I really do have work to do.”

He strides over to the front door and opens it.

“Please help me today. I’ll owe you. Anything you want.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You might. One day.”

He smirks. “What do you think I might ever possibly need from you?”

I shrug. “A cup of sugar? Some candles if there’s a blackout?” I look around his living room. “You don’t seem to have any candles. I have loads of them.”

“I don’t take sugar, because I’m not twelve years old, and London hasn’t had a blackout in twenty years.”

Good lord, he is horrible. The worst. Is his rudeness towards me personal, or is he like this with everyone? No. That can’t be it. If he was this dreadful all the time, he wouldn’t have so many women hanging about. I huff loudly. “Fine. Thanks for nothing, Cooper. Don’t you dare come knocking on my door when your washing machine breaks and you need somewhere to wash your intimates.”

Why did I say intimates? Why am I saying anything? There are many reasons I keep myself to myself, and this verbal malfunction has got to be in the top five of them.

“An excruciating prospect, but somehow I think I’ll manage.” His phone buzzes with a text, and he pulls it out of his pocket, reading the screen. His other hand points at the door. We’re clearly done here.

“You’re the most obnoxious man I’ve ever encountered,” I hiss, irritation and frustration sending a lump right to my throat.

What the hell am I supposed to do next?

I spin around and march towards the door, hoping to myself that one day Cooper has a terrible urge for a hot cup of tea at daft o’clock and simply must borrow some milk, at which point I will say no. Or even better, fill a cup with gone-off milk and give him that. I have a little chuckle at the thought. I’m about to slam the door behind me when Cooper calls my name.

“Delphie, wait…”

I turn to face him, give him my best withering glare. “What?”

“There, uh, is actually something you can do for me.” He peers at his phone and frowns.

“What is it?”

Cooper closes his eyes for a brief moment. “I…Would you take a photo with me?”

I screw up my face. “You want to take my picture?”

“Um, yes. A…a selfie.”

The word selfie sounds odd coming out of his mouth, and I would bet everything I own—which admittedly is not much—that this is the first time he’s said it. His ears turn slightly pink.

“Why do you want a selfie?” I narrow my eyes. “Is this some kind of trick?” I get a vision of him pasting my face onto a photo of a naked body and posting it all across the internet just to be an arsehole.

“It’s not for anything nefarious, I promise. It’ll be quick. Do you want my help or not?”

I do want his help. I need his help. “Fine. I am a bit sweaty, though.”

“What, you want to freshen up or something?”

“Um. Okay? I mean, I can do?”

“The bathroom is that way.” He thumbs behind him to a door that’s ajar.

Slightly befuddled, I shuffle into Cooper’s bathroom, which is as bare as his living room is busy. There’s no way I’m using his bar of soap, because god knows what he has washed with it. Instead I run some cool water into my cupped hands and splash it onto my face. I open the cupboard beneath the sink to see a set of fresh towels in an elegant charcoal colour, a small cream box with Real Feel Condoms printed on the side in a chic serif font, and an unopened bottle of Kiehl’s hand wash.

I grab a towel, pat my face dry, and head back out.

I point at my clean cheeks. “Sweat eliminated.”

Cooper doesn’t reply, just positions himself beside me so that we’re shoulder to shoulder. I shuffle uncomfortably.

He holds up his camera. “You have to smile,” he says.

I show all my teeth in response.

“A real smile, Delphie. Are you capable?”

“Are you?”

“It has to look genuine. I don’t know, think of your happy place.”

My happy place. I hear Jonah’s voice saying he felt like he’d met me before. I grin at the memory as Cooper takes a burst of pictures.

“You won’t put them on the internet, will you?” I ask, leaning over to try to get a look at the snaps.

“Why on earth would I?” he scoffs, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “These will be deleted by this evening, I can assure you. Now…” He eyes the clock on the wall. “I have around thirty minutes before I have to be somewhere else. How can I help you?”