Chapter 18
The whole week after the engagement party, I focus on just how grateful I am to be going out with someone like Jordan.
Someone who is easy to be with, someone who couldn’t give a cold shoulder if they tried and someone who determinedly shies aways from having awkward, potentially dangerous conversations with their new girlfriend about the way they were dancing with a man they once slept with.
I don’t know exactly what he saw transpire on the dance floor between me and Elliot because he never mentioned it.
He let the night carry on as though he’d not seen anything, even getting up and dancing with me a few times, despite saying he wasn’t going to.
We went back to my flat together, and the next morning he was as attentive and caring as ever.
Him not dwelling on what he saw meant I could try to do the same, could try to push past it, put it down to feeling awkward about how fraught everything has been between us since the dinner party, or it being the Teddy Swims song that would make any two humans in that close proximity have a moment together.
That’s all it was. A moment. A fleeting moment that didn’t mean anything.
Yes, it might have made my head spin at the time, but compared to my relationship with Jordan, a few minutes of chemistry on a dance floor with Elliot that neither of us even wanted pales in comparison.
I’m sure he’d say the exact same thing if he weighed up that one dance with me against his wonderful relationship with Teddy.
Being with Jordan helps me stay clear about what works and what doesn’t.
What I should hold on to and what I should forget, and I’m grateful for that too.
By the time I get to Friday, I’ve convinced myself the whole issue is behind me, and I can move forward.
Until Elliot decides to take Teddy on another fucking mini-break, and I end up spending a quiet weekend with Jordan that involves constantly checking WhatsApp for updates from Teddy.
She must be having such a wonderful time, it takes her until Sunday night to message.
TEDDY: You wouldn’t believe the shops there! I’ve come back with three new pairs of boots, a new coat and the cutest pair of heels you’ll ever see.
KARINA: Hold on a minute. I thought you were meant to be glamping in the Cotswolds this weekend.
TEDDY: We did, but the Cotswolds has shops. Lots and lots of them.
She follows up her message with a picture of her standing on a small stone bridge in a picture postcard English village, the ground around her covered in shopping bags.
In her hand is a small paper bag with a logo that I don’t recognise but one that is unmistakably the kind of bag you get from posh jewellery shops.
She follows up that picture with a selfie of her and Elliot.
They have their arms round each other, and Elliot is pretending to look pissed off, and Teddy is pretending to stick her tongue out at him, but they both look so happy no one would believe that they are having anything but the best time together.
KARINA: Did you do any walking like you were meant to? I hope the cagoule I leant you didn’t go to waste.
TEDDY: Of course we walked. It’s not like the shops were all next to each other. Sometimes we had to walk down entire roads for me to get to the next one!
KARINA: Poor Elliot.
TEDDY: What do you mean, poor Elliot? He came on this trip knowing what he was getting into, and I let him go in a few places of his choice. One of them might have been an ice-cream parlour so he could get a sugar hit and sit down for ten minutes, but that was his choice.
LIZZIE: Just make sure he never takes you to Paris or London – he won’t stand a chance of having a rest if you hit the shops there!
I re-read my message over and over. It was meant to come off light, in the taking-the-piss spirit that Teddy is used to, but I don’t have the easy confidence in my jokes with Teddy anymore, especially when Elliot is involved, especially when they’ve been away again, having another adventure, and it feels a little too much like they’re shoving their happiness down my throat, even when I know full well that would never be Teddy’s intention. She’s happy, that’s all.
When I’m confident I’ve not come across as bitter, or jealous that the highlight of my weekend was a trip to B&Q with Jordan to choose a new light for my bathroom and a quick bite in Nando’s on the way back, I put my phone down and try to get some sleep.
I end up tossing and turning all night. At one point I wake from a dream where I’m on that bridge in the Cotswolds instead of Teddy, and I have all the bags round me, and Elliot is taking a picture of me, but the bridge crumbles, and as much as I try to get back to him, to safety, I can’t get there in time.
I wake up with my heart racing and sweat pooling in the small of my back, and that’s how I welcome in the new week.
‘You look tired,’ Elliot tells me when he sees me in the staffroom the next morning. ‘Big weekend, was it?’
‘Something like that,’ I lie. ‘How was your weekend? Teddy was telling us how pleasantly surprised she was to find out there were so many clothes shops in such an outstanding area of natural beauty.’
He smirks, and I catch what I’m sure is some of the leftover happiness in his expression from his weekend with Ted. ‘Yeah, who knew. I’d packed for hiking, not realising I’d discover not one but three branches of Barbour over the weekend. Silly me. What did you get up to while we were away?’
‘Just spending time with Jordan.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yep.’
A silence opens up between us and I rush into it. My brain automatically starts coming up with an excuse to get away from the conversation. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to teach year nine persuasive writing in five minutes, so I should go.’
‘Sure. I’ve got to meet with the governors this morning. I should go too.’
‘OK.’
‘OK. Bye then,’ he says and walks off quickly. I watch him go, wondering when the memory of the dance we had together will start to fade, when it won’t flash up in my mind whenever I see him.
So far in our friendship, the memory of every encounter we’ve had that has pushed the boundaries of our relationship has faded with time – the night we had sex, the aftermath of that, the argument about Teddy when I gave him a glimpse of how I felt – or we’ve adjusted to it.
When I decided I’d let go of my feelings for Elliot, I did so with the confidence that I’d be able to manage it because I’d done it before.
And yet, for some reason, my brain isn’t letting that dance slink off into the shadows.
Those few minutes in Elliot’s arms managed to knock down every brick I’d built up between us.
Much as I’m trying to rebuild my wall, to try and stack up memories of the good times I’m having with Jordan so high that Elliot completely disappears from view, it’s not working.
The wall keeps crumbling and no matter how hard I try, I can’t block Elliot out this time.
Everything is still so vivid, especially the pressure of his hand on my back pushing me closer to him.
He could have kept a gap between us. He could have carried on dancing politely and a little awkwardly before going back to the group, but he didn’t.
Did he want me closer? It’s pretty hard to let the questions go.
I’m sure the day will come when I don’t feel heat spreading across my chest and up my neck when I see him, but I wish it would hurry up.
I’ve been telling my brain that it meant nothing ever since it happened, but this time my body doesn’t seem to be getting the message.
I go off to my classroom and greet my first class of the day.
I don’t see Elliot at all until I’m heading home and pass Mr Montgomery’s office.
The door is open, and I spot him sitting in one of the seats opposite Mr Montgomery, a wide desk between them covered with open files.
He looks like he’s going to be in there for some time.
I catch his eye and give him a little wave of solidarity. He grimaces in return.
Checking my phone on the way out, I see I’ve a missed call from Jordan.
We normally don’t see each other on Mondays, as we both need an evening in the week to catch up with our boring jobs before coming together again.
With Jordan’s boxing match taking place this weekend, I wasn’t expecting to hear much from him this week as he admitted on Sunday he still feels woefully underprepared, but I hope he’s ringing to say that he wants to come round.
It will be nice to see him, to watch some TV and to switch off for a few hours.
‘Shall we go out tonight?’ he asks straight away when he picks up.
‘Oh, OK. I was planning on getting straight into my PJs when I got home, but I suppose I could be convinced to wear clothes for a few more hours.’
‘Good. Shall we say half seven. Wagamama?’
‘Sure.’
Wagamama isn’t our usual choice, but then again it is a Monday evening, and Jordan does, as I’m learning, love a chain restaurant.
I get home, quickly feed Bud and change my outfit to jeans, a tank top and my leather jacket before rushing out to meet him.
‘Is something going on?’ I ask after we’ve both studied the menus, ordered and had our drinks delivered, and it occurs to me he hasn’t touched me, hasn’t held my hand across the table, hasn’t kissed me or even looked at me properly since we arrived.
His gaze wanders around the half-empty restaurant, to the ceiling and to his hands before he seems to agree internally on something and locks his eyes on mine for the first time all night. ‘I wasn’t going to start this until after our noodles, but yeah. We need to talk, Lizzie.’
‘Oh.’
Straight away, I know where this is going. I swallow and brace myself for it, stunned that I didn’t see it coming, that our relationship has led here, to a dumping in Wagamama on a Monday night.