Chapter 12
Soft jazz music plays as candles flicker, and a caressing warmth reaches me from the fire.
I could close my eyes and sleep, but then I’d miss the joy of being here, sipping delicious wine, feeling the hectic week release me from its grip.
I love this place in the evening, when it glimmers and glows, and it’s hard to imagine anywhere else as lovely.
I only wish Elliot could feel its magic all around him. As it is, he’s sitting on the floor, a semi-circle of papers messily arranged around him, completely immune to the charm of his flat.
‘How you getting on down there, buddy?’ I ask from up on the sofa.
‘I don’t know. Tell me again what the hell I think I’m doing?’
‘You’re going for a job you’re going to be amazing at, and you’re going to nail this interview, so you’ve got time to take a break and come and have a glass of this wine with me.’
He only laughs at that and picks up another piece of paper to begin frantically reading.
Ever since Mr Montgomery approached him to tell him there was an opening for an assistant headteacher post, Elliot has gone into prep overdrive, and he’s dragged me along for the ride.
I’ve spent more time at his flat in this last fortnight than I have in the past year.
From him calling me up on the Sunday afternoon, three days before his application form was due and begging me to cancel my plans with Mum to help him with it, it’s become a regular event for me to come round.
I’ve grown used to him stopping by my classroom to ask if I’m coming back to his after work or him texting me at the weekend to see if I fancy goats’ cheese tart for lunch and could I possibly pick up a new pack of highlighter pens on the way over.
Thanks to him (and a tiny bit of my help reining in the amount of times he used the word ‘privilege’) his application form got him through to the interview process, and now he’s led himself to believe I’m the key to success to him getting the job too.
Not that I do anything much but sit on his sofa and act as his soundboard.
I don’t have a clue how to deal with budget deficits or how to control the impact of AI on future students, but I do regularly bring biscuits and tell him on repeat that he’s going to be great, which seems to be enough.
It’s a role reversal that I’m still getting used to.
For the first year we knew each other, it was Elliot who held my hand the whole way through, and I thought that would always be our dynamic, that I’d be the one who came to him, but I’ve got to admit I’m enjoying the change.
I like knowing I can help him too, that he chooses me to come too when he needs help.
Feeling increasingly sleepy and a little guilty for having such a pleasant evening when my friend is stressing out feet away from me, I put down the wine and shuffle off the sofa to sit next to him on the floor.
‘Look how much work you’ve done, Elliot,’ I say picking up a report that has been underlined and highlighted within an inch of its life. ‘You know all this. Don’t you want a break? Something to eat? A stretch of your legs at least?’
‘I don’t know it all. In fact, the more I’m reading, the less that’s going in. But you’re right, I could do with moving. I’ll go make some coffee. Are you OK there with that wine?’
‘I’ll have coffee too actually,’ I tell him, and follow him to the kitchen, leaning against the small island while he puts on the kettle.
‘I’m having second thoughts about the start of my presentation. Don’t you think it’s a bit much to read out endorsement quotes from my pupils?’
‘No, not at all, because it was my idea, but why don’t you have a few minutes break from thinking about it? You’ve got the rest of the weekend to sort it. Let’s talk about something else, shall we? At least until the kettle’s boiled.’
‘OK.’ I can see him searching for something to say, but his brain must be too full of work stuff to come up with anything not related.
‘Have you been in touch much with Teddy?’ I ask, partly helping him out, partly because I can’t help but be curious.
It’s not escaped my notice that Teddy and Elliot have had to slow down their relationship because of this opportunity and that I’ve ended up spending evenings with Elliot that Teddy must have wished she could have spent with him instead.
I know Teddy well enough to know she’ll be nothing but supportive of Elliot, and happy I’m here to help, but I can’t help feel a twinge of guilt at being around him so much.
‘Yeah, we’ve been texting and had a few phone calls. She’s been really good putting our dates on hold until after the interview. I told her I didn’t expect her to do that, but she says she doesn’t mind. Do you think she means it?’
‘Definitely,’ I say, truthfully. ‘Teddy’s super supportive over work stuff. She’ll be nothing but pleased for you if you get this job. When you get the job.’
‘Yeah, let’s not jinx it. I’m glad Teddy’s really OK, though. I’ve been feeling bad about disappearing on her. What about Jordan? Has he been as understanding about you putting all this time into helping me?’
‘Totally. I think he finds it very attractive how amazing a friend I’m being right now.’
As lovely as he’s turning out to be, Jordan and I aren’t at that ‘spend every waking moment together stage’ just yet.
We text all the time and we talk most days.
We’ve met up for two more dates – a meal at my flat and a Friday night in Manchester that ended up with us joining some friends Jordan bumped into for karaoke, which was so much fun I’ve since bought myself a karaoke machine and told Teddy and Karina they need to be regularly available to come round and use it.
Things are going really well, and I think it’s a sign of how good it’s been that I’ve decided to take it slowly.
We could have jumped into bed when he came to my flat, but we didn’t.
We spent hours on my couch, kissing and talking and taking it in turns to choose songs on Spotify.
I could have let Elliot do more of this interview preparation on his own so I could spend my evenings with Jordan instead, but I haven’t, and it feels healthy that way.
This whole break in our dating lives has been good for me and Elliot too.
For a while there, I was worried our friendship was going to be the casualty of setting him up with Teddy, that intertwining our love lives was bringing up the past, making everything too messy, but the last few weeks have taken us back to the way we were.
‘Well, if it will help for me to provide you an endorsement quote to attest to what an incredibly amazing friend you’ve been this last week, I’d be delighted. There’s no way I’d still be thinking I could do this if it wasn’t for you.’
‘Yes, you would. You, Elliot Drake, were born to be an assistant headteacher, but if it’s not this job, it doesn’t matter. There’ll be other jobs in other schools and you’re in the lucky position that you love the job you’re doing right now, so there’s nothing to lose.’
‘Thanks. I suppose not, but can you please pretend to be Mr Montgomery again, so we can run through some of these practice questions?’
‘Fine by me, it’s only my favourite activity.’ I make a show of coughing and when I speak again my voice is as low as I can get it. ‘Now don’t look so worried, Mr Drake, getting this job is going to be as easy as falling off a piece of cake.’
Elliot cracks up, and I don’t need the coffee anymore. Making him laugh gives me a shot of pure adrenaline.
‘This was bizarrely fun, Lizzie,’ he declares a few hours later when he’s finally feeling ready for the interview.
‘I know.’
We’ve ended up giggling way more than I thought we would at my bad impressions and the silly answers Elliot’s given to my, admittedly slightly dubious interview questions.
We’ve been serious too, but even then, it’s not boring.
It’s been interesting listening to Elliot’s responses and the way he always, naturally puts the needs and wellbeing of the pupils before anything else.
But now he’s finally talked out, and there’s only companionable silence between us.
He stretches out on the sofa and lets his eyes close.
He puts his feet on my lap, and I don’t push them away.
Normally, when we sit on this sofa talking or watching a film, we keep to our own sides like there’s an invisible barrier between us that mustn’t be crossed.
In his tiredness, Elliot seems to have forgotten.
He looks so different now to the stressed-out version of himself who opened the door to me all those hours ago – younger, happier, the way he’s meant to look – that I don’t want to disturb him.
I let him stay where he is and try to distract myself from the warm pressure of his feet pressing down on my thighs by taking the rare chance to study his face.
Strands of black hair have flopped down over his forehead, and his dark eyelashes rest on smooth, untroubled skin.
The bottom half of his face is covered in uncharacteristic stubble, which suits him.
If Elliot is stressed or is thinking deeply about something, he has a habit of pressing his lips together, but now his lips are full, with the slightest gap between them.
He seems so peaceful. I smile at him before closing my own eyes, thinking how peaceful I feel too.
How nice it is to be next to each other, enjoying this calm.
We must both be more tired than we realised as we stay like that for what feels like a long time. The warm air and stillness make me sleepy, and I think I could stay here all night, but he abruptly lifts his feet off me and sits up.
‘Sorry, I should let you go. It’s late, and I’ve taken enough of your time.’
‘Oh, right, of course. I should—’
‘Yeah,’ he says, getting up from the sofa.
I follow his lead, pulling down my crumpled T-shirt as I gather up my phone and my bag. In less than a minute, I’m at his front door.