Beautiful World, Where Are You

by Sally Rooney

You must really hate me, she said coolly. No, I don’t, he replied. But I don’t love you either. Of course not. Why should you? I wasn’t deluded about that. She turned over then, quite calmly, and switched off the lamp on the bedside locker. The darkness dissolved their faces and only the outlines of their bodies were visible under the sheets. Neither of them moved at all and every line, every shadow in the room was still. You can leave if you’d like, she said. But you’re welcome to stay. You might flatter yourself you’ve hurt me very badly, but I can promise you I’ve been through worse. He lay there in silence, not responding. And when I said I loved you I was telling the truth, she added. He made a noise that sounded like a strangled laugh, and then said: Ah, I like your style. I’ll give you that. You’re not easy to get the upper hand on, are you? Obviously I’m not going to manage it. It’s funny, because you carry on like you’d let me walk all over you, answering my texts at two in the morning, and then telling me you’re in love with me, blah blah blah. But that’s all your way of saying, just try and catch me, because you won’t. And I can see I won’t. You’re not going to let me have it for a minute. Nine times out of ten you’d have someone fooled with the way you go on. They’d be delighted with themselves, thinking they were really the boss of you. Yeah, yeah, but I’m not an idiot. You’re only letting me act badly because it puts you above me, and that’s where you like to...

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