Chapter 20
20
What is it they say about getting back on the horse?
Unwilling to be put off by my bizarre date with Tragic Mike, and with time running out before the wedding, I’ve already dived back into the murky waters of Redflags. This time, I’ve found another potential wedding date – a guy who works at a bar in town, and honestly, he sounds like he could be perfect. Or at least, perfect enough for my current needs.
I pick up the pace as I try to dodge a slow-moving group of schoolkids, clearly on their way to the Armouries, all suitably hyped to go and look at old weaponry.
I glance at my watch, swearing under my breath when I see the time. I’m here, at the bloody dock, it’s just like trying to walk through quicksand, getting to the office door.
Late again – that’s what Jennifer will say. She is going to have a field day if she catches me strolling in after 9a.m. I really hate working for her. It’s always supposed to be temporary, just until she finds a decent temp or her real assistant stops having babies to avoid her, but it never seems to end fast enough.
I finally make it to the office, a little breathless, and slide into my chair, trying to appear as though I’ve been there for ages.
‘Morning,’ I mouth to Faye and Molly.
Faye is on the phone, so she gives me a wave. Molly whispers good morning back.
Now that we’re friendly, they don’t judge me for things like being late, which is nice. Actually, no, we’re not friendly, we’re friends – and I really appreciate having them onside. Most of my friends are strictly night-out buddies, the kind of people you rarely see in the daylight. But with Faye and Molly, I have someone to talk to during the day, someone to hang out with, who I can tell all about my stupid problems – and they actually want to help me fix them, not just drink with me to forget them.
I mean, yeah, it does feel like they’re egging me on with this whole wedding date thing, but isn’t that what friends are for? To back you up when you’re on a mission, no matter how ridiculous that mission might be?
I glance around the room again, praying Jennifer is in her office, or too busy to notice I’ve just come in. And then I spot her – thankfully deep in conversation in the meeting room. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. It looks like I’ve got away with it, so maybe I can even grab a coffee before I start, as I didn’t get the chance to make one before I left the flat.
‘Coffee, anyone?’ I mouth at Faye and Molly, already halfway out of my chair.
Faye smiles and nods.
‘Please,’ Molly adds.
I head toward the kitchen area, my mind already drifting to my plan for tonight – for my date. Well, my sort of date.
I hover in the kitchen area, and as I wait for the coffee machine to warm up, I aimlessly glance toward the meeting room, just to be nosy really.
Ugh, Steve is talking. Just the sight of him gives me the ick in every way imaginable these days. The harder he tries to get me to like him again, the less I’m interested.
We weren’t even really a couple; we just dated for… what, a few weeks, max? It didn’t last long enough for me to recall exactly how long it went on. But when I needed a place to stay, he swooped in with an offer, acting like it was no big deal, just a friend helping out a friend. We’d been over for ages by then, and he made it seem so innocent, and I really was grateful.
Now, though, it annoys me. The whole thing was a trap. He thought he could lure me back in, save the day, and win me over. To be honest, one of the reasons I’m still there is probably because of the fact that he only did it to manipulate me – it serves him right. I’m saving up, to get my own place – which is easier when you live rent-free – but once I have enough, I’m out of there.
I’m about to get back to making the coffee when something catches my eye in the meeting room. The back of a man’s head – broad shoulders, familiar hair… No, it can’t be. But that neck, that body language, even the way he’s tilting his head slightly. I suddenly feel like I can smell his aftershave, which is impossible, right? I mean, even if it was him – which it most likely isn’t – there’s no way I’d be able to smell him through the bloody wall. Still, I can’t stop staring, not because I think it’s him, but because I really, really wish it was.
I often think about him, about how amazing things were when we were together. No one has measured up to him since. Sure, it was for the best that we parted ways when he went back to London, but the best thing generally isn’t always the best thing for you personally, is it?
The meeting looks like it’s coming to an end. People start standing up, gathering their things, and I keep one eye on the door, stirring my coffee more than it really needs. And then the man turns around, and my breath catches in my throat. It is him. It’s Ethan, and he’s heading this way.
Panic literally jolts through me, and before I can steady myself, I knock over a mug, sending it crashing to the floor. The noise is loud enough to make everyone around me turn their heads to see what it was. Great, Lana. Just great. Ten out of ten, as usual.
But at least the awkwardness is out of the way now. He’s seen me. I’ve seen him. And now he’s coming over to say hello, and…
‘Hi,’ I say, probably a little too brightly.
He laughs and it feels like a punch to the stomach.
‘Hello, still causing trouble, I see,’ he replies.
‘You know it,’ I reply, smiling back at him. ‘Still trying to work here, I see…’
He laughs again. God, I’ve missed that laugh.
‘I think I’m finally getting somewhere,’ he says with a grin. ‘You’re looking good.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply, trying to keep my tone casual. ‘You too.’
He isn’t just looking good; he’s looking phenomenal. Better than he did two years ago, if that’s even possible. It’s somehow both wonderful and devastating to see him again. Of course, I want him more than ever, but seeing him here, in this office of all places, reminds me of why we parted ways. We were nothing but trouble together, a dangerous mixture of chemicals that was always going to explode.
‘How have you been?’
‘So, how are you?’
Our questions collide in mid-air, overlapping in a way that makes us both laugh. There’s this strange mix of familiarity and awkwardness between us, like we’re trying to pick up from where we left off, but we can’t quite do it.
Before either of us can say anything more, Steve rocks up alongside us, clearly muscling his way in to see what’s going on.
‘Hello,’ he says – how did I ever tolerate his voice because lately it just makes me mad?
Oh, God, not right now, Steve.
‘Lana,’ he continues, not waiting for a reply – and louder now, like he’s making an announcement. ‘Can you get us some toilet roll on the way home, please? You wiped the last one out this morning.’
My eyes widen in horror, and I feel my face flush. That absolutely did not happen, and I can see exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to embarrass me in front of Ethan, mark his territory, point out that we live together in the hope it puts him off. But I know better than to let him rattle me.
‘Okay, Steve, sure, I’ll do that,’ I say, forcing a smile. My voice is calm, even though I want to throw the coffee in his face. ‘Can you give us a minute, please?’
Oh, he’s not happy with that. I can see it in the way his smile falters, but he slinks away, thankfully.
‘Wow, you two are living together?’ Ethan asks, unable to mask his surprise.
‘No,’ I blurt out quickly, maybe too quickly. ‘I mean, yes, technically, we are living in the same flat, but we’re not living together. I’m in his spare room while I find a new place. Are you still living in London?’
‘Yeah,’ he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Some things never change. So, you’re still single?’
His question hangs in the air, and it only takes me a second or two to mentally dissect every word of it. ‘Some things never change.’ Does that mean some things have changed for him? And by asking if I’m still single, is there some kind of tone there? A hint? Does that mean he isn’t still single? Or am I just overthinking it? But then again, why wouldn’t I overthink it?
I must already seem like a total loser, because nothing has changed since he saw me last, except now he knows I’m living with Steve out of desperation. I need to say something to make me look good, like I’ve got things going on too.
‘Well, I’m actually going on a date tonight,’ I say, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can think them through.
‘Oh, that’s great,’ Ethan replies, his voice steady, and his expression annoyingly unreadable. ‘Anywhere nice?’
‘There’s a new-ish bar I’ve never been to in town, called 24bar,’ I reply, trying to sound casual. ‘Should be good.’
It’s not technically a date, though. I saw this guy, Pat, on Redflags, and his profile screenshot showed that he’s the manager at 24bar. His main red flag was that he’s a serial flirt with all women, even when he’s on dates. But his other red flag… well, I need to see that one to believe it.
‘Great,’ Ethan says again, although his enthusiasm seems to be dropping off. ‘Sort of a shame really, because I’m only here for one night, and I was going to see if… ah, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, Jennifer wants to talk in her office. It was good to see you again though. Take care, yeah?’
And with that, he’s gone, and I’m just standing there, watching the back of his head until he disappears.
Shit, maybe I’m clutching, but he didn’t seem happy at the idea of me having a date (even though it’s not a date), did he? And now I’m beating myself up, wondering why on earth I said it. But I can’t look back, I suppose, I have to look forward.
Unfortunately…