7 may the consequences of my own actions never catch up to me
7
may the consequences of my own actions never catch up to me
Ava
The workday’s been going too smoothly, so when the door opens sometime in the afternoon, I should’ve known something was about to go down.
Rudy’s in his harness, dutifully guiding Josie towards the counter where I’m refilling the snacks. I wring my hands, inexplicably apprehensive. ‘I didn’t know you were nearby. What’s going on?’
‘You’re on the early shift today, right? I had a meeting up in Farringdon and thought I’d drop by so we can travel home together.’ Her eyebrows wiggle like a cartoon villain’s. ‘I noticed you got in late last night.’
There is no way in hell I’m admitting what I did in a tequila-induced haze last night; not when it turns out she was right about the rugby boy. I fear I may have taken the phrase fuck the Tories a little too literally. ‘I was just at the pub with a friend. Date was a bust. You know how it is.’
She reaches the counter and lowers her voice, which, for someone whose two volume levels are ‘loud’ and ‘louder’, isn’t actually very low at all. ‘Your new friend Finn?’
A wave of realisation rolls over me as I remember the lie I told her the other day to get her off my back about the party. At the mention of his name, Finn glances up from the laptop he’s been eagerly tapping away at for the past couple of hours, his face significantly closer to the screen than is probably recommended by most opticians.
‘Who?’ I hedge, hoping she won’t elaborate.
She does. At great volume. ‘Your new friend from work? Your words, not mine.’ There’s no reason for the real Finn to overhear and come to the conclusion she’s talking about him, because why would he? Lots of men are named Finn. But she keeps prodding. ‘Is he in here?’
‘No . . . ?’ Wrong move. I didn’t say it with nearly enough conviction.
She turns, and whether due to her incredible instincts or my terrible luck, she faces the table to the right of the door, precisely where the man in question is sitting; glasses perched on his nose, curls in disarray from the number of times he’s run his hand through them this afternoon. ‘Finn?’
‘Yes?’ His voice is cautious, but his eyebrows lift slightly in curious amusement.
‘Hi, I’m Josie, Ava’s flatmate.’ She reaches her hand out for him to shake, which is such a Josie thing to do that I’d laugh if not for the fact I’m currently planning my own demise. He returns the handshake, a smile threatening to bloom. ‘Has she invited you to the housewarming we’re hosting yet, or is she being habitually flakey with plans?’
‘She,’ his eyes flick towards me, ‘is being habitually flakey.’
What does he know about my ‘habitual’?
There’s a moment of silence, and I realise I have three options.
One, I tell Josie I don’t really have a friend called Finn and I made him up entirely. She’ll understand, but she’ll feel sorry for me, and so will this unsuspecting man who’s been pulled into this, because what kind of grown woman tells a lie like this in the first place?
Two, I let her know that I do have a work friend named Finn, but he’s not here today. Unfortunately, this option runs the risk of her visiting the shop on another day and finding out then that he (still) doesn’t exist.
Or, three, I engage in what is apparently my new favourite pastime, and drop another lie.
‘No, no, I invited you, remember, you said you couldn’t go?’ I prompt.
To his credit, Finn barely skips a beat and replies evenly, ‘I did say that, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah, especially when you found out it was a karaoke party.’ I lift my shoulders in a what can ya do? shrug.
‘Wait, what?’ His whole face lights up and I realise I have made a hideous mistake. ‘Uh, nope, that wasn’t brought up. I think I’d remember if you’d said it was a karaoke party.’
‘No, I definitely told you and you definitely told me you were busy.’
His eyes are positively gleaming. Oh god, what have I done?
‘Hey Josie, what date is the party again?’
I don’t move, my eyes frantically bouncing between them, watching their conversation unfold like I’m at a tennis match where it doesn’t matter who wins, because I lose either way.
‘It’s the last Saturday in August,’ she replies.
‘Yep, just as I thought. I’m free.’ He folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. ‘There must’ve been some miscommunication.’
‘So you’ll be there? Promise?’ Josie’s pitch rises with excitement.
‘Wouldn’t miss it.’
‘Bring friends too, the more the merrier.’
‘Of course. Where do you guys live again?’
‘Stoc—’
‘Stockwell,’ he finishes for her, as if he knew all along. ‘I remember now.’
‘Hold on,’ Josie says, pointing at him accusingly. ‘Were you the reason she got home at two in the morning?’ Neither of us get a chance to answer before she continues, ‘Thank god, because I thought she might’ve gone home with that Tory. I’m all for having fun in your twenties, but there’s a line. You know what she’s like.’
‘Absolutely,’ he replies earnestly.
Unfortunately, as much as I hope for it, the ground does not swallow me whole, so I snap back into action and say through gritted teeth, ‘You know, actually Josie, Finn and I don’t really have the kind of friendship where we talk about that stuff.’
Realising she may have overshared, she makes an apologetic grimace. ‘Sorry. I’ll take a seat while I wait for you to finish up,’ she says. ‘Is my favourite table free?’
Reluctantly, I reply, ‘Yep. Iced oat chai?’
‘You’re an angel. The best friend ever. It was nice meeting you, Finn.’ Josie sends us an impish smile and makes her way with Rudy to the table in the left corner by the window, where she moves a cushion out of the way and settles into one of the comfy armchairs.
‘Have you been talking about me?’ Finn asks.
I pointedly ignore his question, which is difficult when he’s looking at me with the kind of mischievous eyes that I have a feeling could convince anyone to do anything.
‘Thanks for covering for me there,’ I say. ‘I’ll come up with an excuse for you not to come.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why am I not coming?’
I blink a few times in confusion. ‘Because that entire conversation was the result of some poor decision-making on my part and I’d rather just pretend it never happened.’
‘But I’ve given your friend my word. Do you not want me there?’
My eyebrows pull together. ‘Uh, not really? No offence.’
‘None taken.’ Amusement returns to his face, but he nods. ‘Fine. We’ll come up with an excuse. But I do love karaoke. And making friends.’
‘I don’t need any new friends,’ I say, slightly sharper than I intended.
Unbothered, he starts packing up his laptop. ‘Clearly. You have plenty of people to keep you occupied.’