I never reckoned that making coffee could be akin to rocket science but after a full four minutes of tryna figure out where the Nespresso capsule goes, I'm about ready to hand my uni diploma right back. What would George Clooney do—other than stand around and look sexy? "What else?" you ask. How about an instruction manual, George.

The light on the waffle iron flicks to green and I abandon the gingerbread-flavoured pod beside the machine to open the iron. I stack the waffles onto the growing pile, pour in new batter, and return to the coffee machine.

My phone died overnight (or overmorning, I suppose considering we didn't even sleep until five)—otherwise, I'd've obviously googled it. I've pressed every bloody button I've found on this thing!

Just as I'm about to give up, I accidentally nudge the lever that opens the top, the previous capsule sliding into the bin at the back of the machine. I deposit the new one into the slot and take another minute to figure out how to shut it again.

Once I've finally managed to brew the coffee and garnish the freshest waffles with banana, raspberries I find from the freezer, and maple syrup, I look for a tray. I add a glass of orange juice and take it to the bedroom.

It's past noon and the earth tones of Joe's bedroom are bright in the daylight—we clearly forgot to shut the blinds last night and I can only hope there were no neighbours who happened to be getting an early morning glass of water. She's sound asleep even with the sun blanketed on her.

I shouldn't be seeing her like this, her cheek debossed with the creases of her pillow, relaxed in blissful sleep. I shouldn't've slept over. I shouldn't've come in. I should have wished her sweet dreams and had a nice cold walk home.

The light kisses her skin where my lips were mere hours ago, though that now feels like an impossibility—a dream or an alternative reality. Or maybe it just feels fucking idiotic because the feelings were supposed to be fading.

I were supposed to get her out of my system but, surprisingly, affection ain't stored in my balls because it definitely didn't get washed out with my come. An imaginary gif of Caleb's eye twitching arises in my mind.

Roused by the smell of coffee, Joe stirs and once her eyes crack open, the sun pierces right through to slice sleep away. She stays groggy for a moment, watching me in wonder as I leave the breakfast on her desk to fetch the fold-out bamboo laptop tray to place in front of her.

'Morning.' I resist the urge to kiss her cheek.

Joe's stare drills through the waffles as she saws her white topaz pendant back and forth on its chain. 'What is this?' I'm confused by her shrill voice before realisation dawns on me.

'No! It's not– I didn't mean– Friendship. Totally casual friendship waffles. I weren't tryna cross any boundaries. I'm gonna leave.'

I should've probably left when I woke up. I always reckoned sneaking out were rude, but based on experience, that seems to be the culturally accepted mode of action. She said I could sleep over because it were raining. Well, the sun is shining now. She never said owt about waking up together, did she?

If I had a pence for every idiotic thing I've done in the past twenty-four hours, I'd be a fucking billionaire.

But I've barely turned to my trousers before Joe interrupts. 'Stay. I didn't mean it like that.' I'm slow to turn around but when I do, I find her smiling. She nods at the breakfast. 'I appreciate this but I really have to brush my teeth first. I'm sorry–'

'That's alright.'

Caleb is like that too. If he were kidnapped and held for ransom, he still wouldn't eat if he weren't given toothpaste and a brush. When we lived together, I brought him breakfast in bed every birthday though he'd always get up to brush his teeth anyway. I asked if he'd prefer I set breakfast at the table instead and he threatened to castrate me if I dared.

'I have spare toothbrushes if you want one,' Joe calls as she whisks to the toilet.

I watch the sunrise neon light on the wall above Joe's bed. Though it's not turned on, the glass tubes fill with real sunlight to much the same effect. Joe's room is roughly the same size as mine though her bed is only a small double mattress, leaving enough space for a proper desk and a chest of drawers along with her wardrobe. In the daylight, I can appreciate the colour palette of burnt orange and forest green. The walls are off-white rather than the searing bleach of the stairwell with constellations of prints and posters livening them up.

A tapestry of The Hermit tarot card is pinned to her ceiling along with a string of star-shaped lights. From my tarot googling, I vaguely remember it to symbolise the search for oneself. Plants would suit the room well, but Joe seems to have been honest about not being able to keep them alive cause the closest thing to a plant is a half-smoked zoot next to her citalopram.

Joe has the kind of maximalist taste that I've always admired on social media. Though it's currently lost in the mess. And when I say mess, I mean mess. It's a right state in here!

I pick up the t-shirt in front of my feet and can't stop myself from taking a step to the next top.

'Do you always do this after on a one-night stand?'

My head snaps to Joe, leaning against the doorframe, still entirely naked. Though I don't pay attention to that at all. "One-night stand"? One-night stand. Just a casual one-night stand between mates. That's what this is. Reminder: I don't have any other kind of feelings for her.

When all I do is stare at her, Joe elaborates. 'Act like a maid?'

'I'm not–'

'You made me breakfast and now you're cleaning.'

I glance at the pile of clothes draped over my left arm and the bin at my feet. I've been toeing it around the room so I don't have to keep walking over to it with each takeaway container I unearth. Yeah, no fucking wonder people don't want to date me. Got an absolute unit of an intelligence, me.

I blush and Joe grins. As she walks past me to climb back into bed, she hands me an unopened ten-piece pack of toothbrushes. 'Pick the colour you want,' she says and, at my scrunched brow, adds, 'I moved here to have lots of meaningless sex, remember?'

Yeah, I remember.

Of course, Joe has ensured that she has toothbrushes to offer to her one-night stands.

'I know you're judging me.' I go to correct her that I think she's the kindest person on Earth, but she continues. 'I know I'm messy. I just never have the energy to clean. And I know you work two jobs so me being tired is probably–'

'I don't run a monopoly on exhaustion.' My dullness makes it sound much ruder than I intended and I grimace. 'I wouldn't judge ya.'

To prove that I'm not bothered by the mess, I stop cleaning and sit on the edge of her bed. I can't ignore the flutter in my chest when she cuts into the waffle and then hums, doing a little jig at the pleasure.

'This is just what I needed. We stayed up so late that I don't even feel hungover.' Her voice is so bright that I have no doubts in believing her. 'Do you feel okay?'

'Oh... I feel like some kid on YouTube has just thrown me off The Shard to see if I break or not and then left me in a bucket of rice.'

We exchange smiles.

'Don't you want anything?' she asks after a few more minutes of me watching her eat.

I stay quiet for long enough that Joe looks up to meet my eyes and a slow grin spreads onto my mouth. 'I were planning on eating summat else...'

She stares at me and then it dawns on her. In reality, I already ate a bunch of the ugly waffles while frying them but she don't need to know that.

'Where are your toys?'

She points at a drawer and, dropping the pile of clothes from my lap, I open it.

'You have a lot of sex toys,' I remark.

'I was raised Catholic,' Joe says with a shrug. 'And Tamsin was weird about me wanking—she thought it was cheating. I know we broke up, like, six months and two weeks ago but sometimes I still feel guilty. I've been doing loads of practice not to.'

'Did you feel guilty last night?'

She shrugs again, though it's a meek gesture this time. Her focus is drilled into the piece of waffle she forks around the maple syrup. 'A little. That's why I started crying the first time. I'm sorry about that. It's just that it was the first time I've had sex since the breakup and, I got so scared she'd... I dunno. I know it's nonsensical.'

Reminder: She's in love with her ex. Reminder: She is never going to be in love with me.

My face must show my hurt because Joe hangs her head. 'I'm sorry.'

'No, you've nowt to be sorry for. You can't help the way you feel.' The remorse is evident in her gaze though. 'You can't help the way you feel, Joe.'

Even if I feel like I've definitely been thrown off The Shard now, left alone to curl up on the tarmac and nurse my broken bones.

I should leave. The familiar bite of tears in my eyes and the shuddering of my breath are both telling me to leave. I'm more bruise than man. I–

'You have to fix me.'

The ball of light in my chest turns to searing flame as my stare snaps to hers. 'You're not broken, Joe.'

A humourless laugh hacks out of her. 'How can I be a sex and relationships therapist when I can't even have a sexual thought without thinking that I'm a horrible person? Much less, be in a relationship.'

'You don't have to be perfect.' It comes out as a whisper and I clear my throat to repeat myself. 'Sure it's good to work on yourself but you don't have to be perfect before you're allowed to get a job or be in a relationship. You grow within it–'

I would be able to grow within it! I would. If someone just was patient enough to wait for me to figure out how to stop rotting.

'–I don't know everything about all technology in the world, but I know a lot more now than I did three years ago. Don't mean I didn't deserve my job three years ago, just that I've got better with experience. Sides, I'm sure most therapists go to therapy... You're brilliant, Josephine.'

Joe is not convinced.

'We can talk about it later.' I get up to peer into her sex toy drawer. I decidedly ignore the harness because if I think about it, I'll probably explode. 'Now, get ready to write some reviews.'

Notes

The Hermit: Tarot Card. Its upright meanings are self-reflection, introspection, contemplation, withdrawal, solitude, search for self and the reversed meanings are loneliness, isolation, recluse, being anti-social, rejection, returning to society. Joe's birth cards are The Hermit and The Moon.

The Shard: Building in London.