Chapter 5 #2
I mean, I’m not certain that’s what I’m going to do, but it’s all I’m willing to tell her.
I spot the mysterious Mr L walking across the pub and my heart skips a beat.
‘I’ll be right back, I’ll just nip to the loo,’ I tell them, standing up.
‘No worries,’ Mel replies.
Oh God, what am I doing? I’m stalking him now? Who am I, Joe from You?
I guess I am because I follow him around the corner and up the stairs. Bloody hell, this place is like a Wetherspoons; it’s a genuine trek to the loos.
He goes through a door marked ‘toilets’, so I pick up the pace, only to find myself in a corridor full of doors, so I’m guessing the loos are individual now.
There’s no sign on the door next to me, but there’s a bit of tape, as though a sign might have fallen off. I decide to go in there for a few minutes, then walk back out, hoping to bump into him on the way back downstairs.
I walk through the door, into a small room with one cubicle and one sink. I head to the cubicle, pushing the door, only to realise it’s locked. It makes a loud clatter as I try it.
‘Someone’s in here,’ a voice calls out. Yep, it definitely sounds like Mr L. Perfect.
Panic hits me, and I bolt for the door, clumsily crashing into it. A loud snapping noise follows. I look down at the floor and see a splintered piece of wood and a paper sign saying to ensure the doorstop is in place at all times, because the door gets stuck. Oh God.
I try the door, but it won’t open. This is so embarrassing. Why did I stalk him into the actual toilet? And now I’ve trapped us both in here. He’s technically a hostage at this point.
I hear a flush and a few seconds later Mr L emerges from the cubicle.
‘Hi,’ he says with a cheeky laugh. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
He washes his hands, smiling at me in the mirror as I try to find the words.
‘The door is jammed,’ I blurt out. I didn’t look very hard for the right words, it turns out.
‘Oh?’ he says.
‘You’re welcome to try and open it, I won’t be offended, but I can’t get it open,’ I tell him.
Mr L tries the door and shakes his head.
‘Oh boy, that is stuck.’
‘Can you call the pub for help?’ I suggest. ‘I left my bag with my friends.’
He looks sheepish.
‘I left my phone on my table too,’ he tells me.
Shit. I start to feel the walls closing in.
‘I’ve just learned, in the most inconvenient way, that I’m a little claustrophobic,’ I inform him – I’m technically informing myself too. I had no idea.
I slide down the wall, sinking to the floor, unsure what else to do.
‘Don’t worry,’ he reassures me, sitting down next to me and placing an arm around my shoulders. ‘Someone will come up soon and either open the door from the outside or realise we’re stuck and get help.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply, but I am really panicking. If he wasn’t so hot, and I wasn’t trying to play it vaguely cool still, I would probably be really embarrassing myself right about now.
He squeezes my shoulder gently.
‘Hey, what’s your favourite movie?’ he asks me, his tone more upbeat.
‘Titanic,’ I tell him, my voice wobbling.
He laughs.
‘Titanic? No wonder you’re claustrophobic,’ he jokes. ‘That film would give anyone ideas.’
I can’t help but laugh too.
‘At least we’re on dry land, right?’ he reminds me, and I nod. ‘And no water is coming in. Not unless someone turns a tap on.’
I relax a little, laughing at his joke.
‘What’s your favourite film?’ I ask.
‘The Godfather,’ he replies.
‘Don’t all boys say that?’
‘Yes, but I mean it,’ he says with a smile. ‘You can learn a lot about family and loyalty from it.’
‘I just moved back in with my parents, and it’s a bit like moving in with the mafia,’ I say, feeling relaxed enough to crack jokes.
‘I can appreciate that. My mum can be a handful,’ he says. ‘And my dad left us when I was younger.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I tell him sincerely.
‘It’s okay. It was a long time ago,’ he replies. ‘A real man makes his own family.’
I snort.
‘Is that a sort of Titanic reference?’ I check.
The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. I exhale deeply, feeling more at ease.
‘How was your vile-looking blue drink?’ he asks curiously.
‘It was nice,’ I reply. ‘Like a trip down memory lane. I only had a few sips, but I think my tongue might be blue.’
‘Let’s see,’ he says, leaning in closer.
I poke out my tongue, leaning in too. He looks at it and smiles, then he looks me in the eye.
Slowly, I put my tongue back in my mouth. Are we having a moment right now?
I leave my lips parted slightly, sort of hopefully. He starts to lean in, and just when we’re about to kiss, the door bursts open.
‘Oh my God, there you are!’ Mel says. She gives Eric a slap on the arm. ‘You need to get this door fixed. If I hadn’t wondered where Lia was, she could have been stuck in here all night.’
A few seconds ago, I don’t think I would have minded.
As Eric begins to apologise to Mr L, Mel hooks her arm with mine, dragging me off. ‘Eric owes us champagne for this, and we’re going to sit in the private room, just us girls. It’s the least he can do,’ she tells me.
I go with her but secretly I just want to spend more time with Mr L.
And now I’m kicking myself because why on earth didn’t I ask him his name?
I feel so weird, calling him Mr L, even if it’s only in my head.
Ah well, I’ll just have to find him later and ask.
Suddenly, living back home doesn’t seem so bad.