My Secret Life. Various

had this presentiment that he wasn’t just talking about the view. My good sense held back, but my treacherous feet ignored it, dragging me over to him.

      Beside him, leaning against the railings, high above the street, I seemed to have also risen above my inhibitions. Nobody could see us up here. Nobody could hear us. We were alone. Together.

      ‘You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?’ he said after a pause to take in the clean air and the idyllic view.

      ‘Wouldn’t you be?’

      ‘Yeah. I would. I behaved like a dick. But I don’t want you to be angry with me.’

      ‘I feel so terribly sorry for you. Must be awful when people dislike you for behaving like a dick. What a cross to bear.’

      ‘I didn’t give you the chance to take your anger out on me either. I just disappeared. Maybe I should give you that chance now.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Hit me.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Go on. Slap my face. Really hard. Give me what you’ve been fantasising about since I hurt you.’

      It wasn’t a good idea but I didn’t care. The temptation was too strong. I stepped away from the balcony railing at the same time as he did, swung back my arm and dealt him the hardest, loudest, most brilliantly satisfying smack to the side of his face anyone could describe or imagine.

      After I did it, I laughed with delight and jumped up and down.

      And he smiled.

      And took hold of my wrist.

      And made me put the flat of my palm against the hot red patch.