Nudge 21 The Residual Flirtation
The Residual Flirtation
‘Sorry, could you say that again? I lost you there.’ The reverb spits my voice back at me in chunky, robot-like fragments.
‘I said your signal is shit,’ Aiden says, his face so clearly unimpressed in the small, faded image.
‘Who says it’s my signal?’
He huffs. ‘I’m restarting the call.’
I woke up this morning with the headache to end all headaches, birthed by those shots and raised by my distinct lack of sleep.
At first, I tried to fight it – snooze my alarm and convince myself that I’d be bright and perfect by the fourth time it went off, but it was to no avail.
The thought of leaving my house made me want to cry until I was out of tears.
So, after a quick call with Pippa about a fake emergency, I managed to switch my scheduled work-from-home Friday for today.
Aiden was thrilled; it meant he got to stay home too and avoid a trip to the Abbingtorn building. The downside? We both have to spend the day working through a Teams call on my hit-and-miss Wi-Fi connection.
‘Maddison, when are you folding those clothes? I have washing to do too.’ Mum tuts as she barges through the previously closed door.
‘I only put them in this morning!’ I watch in horror as she makes herself comfortable behind me. ‘Could you do that in the kitchen, please? I’m working.’
‘Working?’ she asks. ‘You’re in pyjama bottoms.’
‘I am working from home,’ I say.
‘Wrapped in that blanket?’ she asks, eyebrow raised.
‘It’s freezing in here.’
It may be April, but it’s the fakest ‘spring weather’ I’ve experienced in years.
‘Is that your mum?’ Aiden asks brightly, connection issues apparently solved.
The male voice triggers her curiosity. She sets her basket down and makes her way back over to me, peering over my shoulder and squinting at the screen.
‘Is that Aiden Edwards?’ she asks loudly, apparently entirely unaware of how video calls work. ‘Oh, he’s grown up nice and handsome, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes, it is, and he can hear you.’ I sigh deeply.
‘Hi, Mrs Clarke! Long time, no see!’
She coos. ‘Aiden! How’s your mother? Did she have her surgery?’
‘She did, yes, and it was tough, but she’s recovering well.’
‘Your mum had surgery?’ I ask.
‘A minor one. A couple of months ago.’ He shuffles uncomfortably, glancing down. ‘She’s fine.’
A couple of months ago, while we were working together.
Friction or not, I would have remembered something like that.
Disappointment stirs in my stomach. I hate that he didn’t feel like he could tell me, and that I never picked up on it.
I want to ask more, but it feels wrong of me.
Intrusive almost, like crossing a line our newfound acquaintanceship isn’t quite ready for.
‘I thought you said you were working, not catching up with old friends,’ Mum says, turning back to me.
‘Mum. Aiden works for Evie, the woman I’m doing that event for.’
And he’s not my friend.
‘Oh, how fun! I always liked that boy!’ she says.
‘He can still hear you.’
‘I always liked you too, Mrs Clarke.’ Aiden beams through the screen.
She smiles widely, proving once again that almost everyone falls victim to the Aiden Edwards ‘charm’.
I sit with my eyes glued to the ceiling as the two exchange an unnecessarily long string of pleasantries.
He’s a different person in front of her – sweet, polite and engaging.
It’s sickening to watch him put it on and even worse to watch her buy it.
I let out an audible sigh of relief when she eventually gathers the washing basket and heads for the kitchen, door closing tightly behind me.
‘Mums love me,’ he says, lip curled. ‘And she’s great. Shame about her daughter, though.’
I groan. ‘Focus, please. How’d the invite copy go down?’
‘Evie loved it – signed off the wording, so now it’s with Design. How’d the date go?’ he asks. ‘You had a lot of shots on that table.’
I shout triumphantly. ‘So, you did see the photo!’
Silence. For a moment I think the connection has dropped again, but then I see him dip his head in shame as he fumbles for a reply.
‘It’s none of your business anyway,’ I say, attempting to hurry the awkwardness along. ‘I sent the picture for evidence, not because I wanted to discuss it with you.’
‘Oooh, that bad?’ he asks, recovering quickly.
‘Great, actually. Really fun.’ I texted Benji a similar sentiment when I got home and am yet to receive a reply.
My stomach dips just thinking about it. I change the subject.
‘Where are you at with catering? I think I’ve found a good Mexican option – small, family-run.
They have a restaurant in Shoreditch; we could pay it a visit. ’
‘So that’s why you worked from home today.’
‘Because I wanted to visit the Mexican restaurant?’
‘Because your date went so great. Did you stay round his?’
‘Aiden!’
‘Hey, there’s no judgement from me. I’ve definitely had sleepovers for a lot less.’
His last sentence triggers a strange wash of jealousy, gone as quickly as it arrived, but deep, strong and burning. I shake it off instantly, putting it down to the lack of sleep. If anything, I pity anyone who encounters Aiden.
‘Lovely,’ I sigh, going for nonchalance. ‘Now can you let me know where you’re at with the catering?’
‘Think I’ve got the Indonesian in the bag too. Wanna do a double feature? Mexican for lunch and Indonesian in the evening?’ he asks.
‘Tasting everything from both? Sounds like a lot of food. Do you think I should bring Gus or Pippa in?’
‘Hmm.’ He is clearly unenthused. ‘That could make it a “too many cooks” situation.’
‘Aiden Edwards, are you trying to take me out to dinner?’
It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it – stopping me in my tracks as much as it does him.
I don’t know what’s worse, the quickness with which it came or the smooth unwavering confidence that accompanied it.
There’s no explanation for it other than it being a residual stray, left over from the flirting I was doing last night.
My cheeks grow hotter the longer we both stay silent, Aiden’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips speaking louder than either of us could.
‘Gus and Pippa should come too. Wouldn’t want to upset Benji,’ he says eventually.
‘Great, I’ll check their availability and get back to you.’ I squeak this as normally as possible.
It’s not normal at all. I’ve ruined the entire moment.
‘Cool. Another call later before we log off for the day?’ he asks.
We have another hour of this call scheduled.
I hesitate. ‘Yeah, sounds good. I’ll sort dates for the tasting and you let me know how it goes with the printer?’
The conversation lulls once again, leaving us with that same, off-putting silence. I want to burrow into a hole in the ground and I can feel my skin itch at the awkwardness. He waits a moment longer, mouth open to speak before snapping shut and changing course.
‘Perfect. See you, Maddy.’
His image disappears, leaving me to stare back at nothing but my pixelated reflection on the screen. I slam the lid of my laptop shut and scream into the abyss.
‘What happened?’ Mum rushes into the room with a yell, her sleeves rolled up, saucepan poised over her shoulder like a baseball bat.
‘I’m fine. Everything’s fine,’ I sigh, bending my head to rest it on the closed laptop.
‘Then don’t scream like that,’ she huffs, reluctantly lowering her weapon. ‘And don’t forget to fold your clothes.’
Take me out to dinner. Take me out to dinner?
Who on Earth do I think I am? Who on Earth do I think he is?
That was cringey and embarrassing in so many ways and I can only imagine how much worse it looked from his eyes.
I can never see or talk to him again. There’s absolutely no way I can move past this.
What was I thinking? Why would I say that?
I close my eyes, take a breath and try to refocus.
I wasn’t flirting. I was just confused.
I repeat it over and over in the hopes that I’ll start to believe it.
I don’t flirt with Aiden. I wouldn’t flirt with Aiden. I wasn’t flirting. I was just confused.