8 I simply cannot pretend to be interested in Bitcoin
8
I simply cannot pretend to be interested in Bitcoin
Ava
Out of sheer embarrassment I’ve managed to avoid serving Finn every time he’s come into the shop since our awkward run-in with Josie last week. This hasn’t been the easiest task, seeing as he appears to have taken it upon himself to become the world’s most irregular regular; coming and going at different times each day and forcing me on more than one occasion to ‘check the deliveries’ out back while a bewildered Mateo takes over at the till.
The day’s swell of customers has left me tired and ready to collapse into my bed, which unfortunately isn’t my plan for the evening, thanks to a date I reluctantly agreed to the other day. Now I’m left to close the shop, wiping down the surfaces and emptying the bins in preparation.
To my annoyance, the one customer still here is Finn; his overgrown stubble, untucked shirt, and messy hair lending him a more frazzled air than usual while he frantically clicks on his laptop.
Unfortunately, while he’s probably on a deadline, so am I. ‘Hey, we’re closing in less than ten minutes, by the way.’
He looks up at me, bleary eyes blinking, then stares around the room. ‘Oh god. What’s the time?’ Before waiting for an answer, he glances at his phone and his eyes widen. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise. I’ve been trying to finalise this piece of work for my client and got caught up. I’ll be five minutes, I promise.’
I glance at his screen and, without thinking, say, ‘You spelt accommodate wrong. It’s two “m”s.’
He grins and adds the missing letter with a flourish. ‘Thanks.’ He pulls the laptop closer and takes the paintbrush tool, painstakingly changing the colour of something in the background.
I really want to lock up, but I have to make another suggestion. If helping him out will make him leave sooner, I’ll do it. ‘There’s an easier way to do that. Can I show you?’
As I’m clicking through the program, he fills the silence with chatter. ‘It’s been a while since I used Illustrator. I’m usually a Canva guy for work. Don’t often need anything fancier than that. Are you a designer or something?’
‘Studied graphic design for a bit at uni,’ I say distractedly, though my heart thrums with an emotion I can’t name at his suggestion that I might be the person I once thought I would become.
When I turn his laptop back towards him, he clicks ‘undo’ to see if he can do the sequence himself, the way I just showed him. He can. Fast learner, I guess. I’m about to go back to the counter when he calls my name.
‘Ava?’ I pause mid-turn. He’s looking up at me from the table. ‘Do you know your way around London?’
After a confused pause I reply, ‘Yeah?’
‘And do you know of any cool local places? Maybe some that you don’t think tourists have heard about?’
My brain flips through the possibilities – places I’ve been on dates, fun spots Josie’s told me about. ‘A few, I suppose.’
‘Remember I mentioned my London bucket list to you?’ Not at all, to be honest, but I refrain from telling him that. ‘Well, I want to complete my list before I leave, and I think it’d be more fun to do it with someone, and I was thinking that someone could be you.’
‘Why me?’
‘Why not you?’ he says with a shrug.
I refuse to accept this man has no other friends to spend time with. ‘What about Julien?’
‘He’s super busy.’
‘What if I’m busy too?’
He tilts his head, eyes amused behind his glasses. ‘Are you?’
I’m not, ever, but it’s presumptuous of him to think I could rearrange my whole social life around him. ‘Sorry, I just don’t know if I’m really in the mood for . . . that.’
‘No worries, seriously. Just thought it could be fun. Let me know if you change your mind.’
Tonight’s date is another finance boy, which was a mistake on my part, because we spent the first thirty minutes out in the smoking area while he took drags on his vape and talked at me about bitcoin. Now that we’re back inside, he’s moved on to NFTs, a topic I am similarly unenthusiastic about, and I noisily slurp the last of my drink through my straw, wondering if he’ll pay for the next round since I paid for the first two.
‘So it’s like if I bought the concept of a gin and tonic, but never got to taste it? And no one else would be able to order it from the menu either?’ I ask, leaning against the sticky mahogany bar and dipping my chin to meet Oliver’s eyes. Lots of men seem to be under the impression that lying about their height will go unnoticed when you meet in real life. I guess they’d rather be a liar than short. Regrettably, many are both.
‘I mean, actually yeah, that’s about right,’ he replies, crunching on an ice cube before spitting it back into his empty glass and finally saying, ‘Let’s get another drink. My shout.’
He clicks his fingers in the vicinity of a bartender and I want to shrivel up and die, but instead I ask, ‘When did you start working in London?’
‘A few years ago. I was on a grad scheme and then worked my way up.’
‘Oh, nice. I fully intended to—’
‘There are just non-stop opportunities here, you know? Entrepreneurs to be inspired by. Ideas in every corner. You can’t beat it. If you’re bored in London, you might as well be anywhere else. If you’re unemployed in London, you clearly aren’t trying hard enough.’ He’s brandishing his card at the bartender, who’s ignoring him, whether intentionally or not, I can’t tell.
‘Sure, there’s a lot of opportunity, but it’s not always as simp—’
‘All these companies, all these jobs, and some people do fuck all. Like, imagine going to uni and getting a degree and then becoming a waiter or something.’
‘I went to uni and I’m a barista,’ I interrupt, finally managing to get a full sentence in. It’s not quite the burn I wanted it to be, seeing as I dropped out in second year, but he doesn’t need to know that.
‘Schools should be pushing for economics and business degrees rather than fluffy subjects like arts and humanities,’ he drawls.
‘Surely if everyone did economics and business degrees, you’d have a surplus of people with those degrees against the jobs they’re applying for? As a Business graduate, you’d know all about supply and demand, right?’ I finish innocently.
The person on my left expels a soft snort, and I sneak a glance to see a familiar figure leaning against the bar as he waits to order. I snap my eyes away from him and try to listen to the man on my right, who’s still going on about lazy people who don’t take the opportunities in front of them.
I’m saved from more of Oliver’s septic spewing when the bartender finally notices him and he leans forward to yell his order in her ear at a ridiculous volume.
‘I don’t know if this is crossing a line,’ the person on my left says, amusement in his voice. ‘But would you be offended if I told you that this guy seems like an asshole?’
I don’t look at him at first, continuing to pretend I have a vested interest in the rows of spirits lined up on the wall in front of me. Oliver is still leaning into the bartender’s ear, gesticulating wildly and over-pronouncing his ‘p’s. She surreptitiously wipes spit from her face before answering his question, and I stifle a grin when she yells into his ear just as loudly as he did to her.
I finally turn my head so that I’m eye-to-eye with Finn, who’s looking a little less dishevelled than earlier, his posture more relaxed. His gaze quickly sweeps over me, and I imagine him seeing my non-uniformed self in a band T-shirt and midi skirt feels like when you’d see a teacher out in public as a child.
‘Not offended, no,’ I begin. ‘This is just a hiccup. Because I’m generally an excellent judge of character. For instance, right now, I’m judging that your character should stay out of my business.’
‘I don’t think that’s what that phrase means.’
A smirk pulls at his mouth as soon as Oliver starts to talk to me again. ‘Ugh, this place is fucking ridiculous, they don’t have my favourite IPA. Can you believe that?’
‘Devastating,’ I deadpan, confirming to myself that I am not, in fact, an excellent judge of character.
‘So, uh, my card is playing up and I really need to take a slash. Could you cover me? You’re a babe.’
I cringe at the pet name and just as he’s turning his back to me, I ask, ‘Did you order for me too?’
He glances over his shoulder before replying, ‘I didn’t realise you were thirsty.’ He doesn’t apologise to any of the four people he bumps into as he makes his way towards the bathroom.
For a second I pause, and then catch Finn’s eye to say, ‘I can change him.’
He laughs then, a proper belly laugh that sends his whole body flinging backwards like one of those flailing inflatable tubes outside a car dealership. I want to remind him that what I said wasn’t actually that funny, but he’s got one of those laughs that seep into your bones like a day out in the sun, and god knows I could do with a bit of sunshine.
‘Please say that man is a business acquaintance and not a date.’
I squint at the bottles in front of me again, but I can feel Finn’s eyes on me. ‘He’s a business acquaintance . . . from Hinge.’
‘He seems like a delight.’
As much of a dickhead as Oliver is, I can’t stop thinking about one thing he said. If you’re bored in London, you might as well be anywhere else. I’m not bored. Am I? It sounds an awful lot like what Josie’s been repeating over the past few weeks, trying to get me to make the most of this city.
The bartender sets a whisky on the rocks on the bar, condensation already dripping down the sides of the glass amidst the syrupy heat of the room. ‘Where did he— oh. Did you guys want anything else?’
She eyes me warily and I consider the whisky for a second before shaking my head and saying, ‘That’s all.’
She shrugs and keys in the order. Oliver has ordered one of their most expensive brands. A double, obviously. After I’ve paid, I pick up the glass, already recoiling at the smell.
‘Is that mine?’ Oliver’s grating voice hits me before I see him. I bet he didn’t even wash his hands.
‘It was ,’ I say, before launching the drink to the back of my throat, trying in vain to avoid the ice cubes while the burn travels down to my stomach. I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth and mutter, ‘I hate whisky.’
‘Did you just take that as a shot? That’s vintage.’ His eyes are wide.
The warmth of the whisky has loosened my tongue just enough. ‘Oliver.’
‘You can call me Ollie.’
‘Oliver. This isn’t happening. I’m out.’
‘What do y—’
‘You are not nearly tall enough to have an ego this big, and I am not drunk enough to ignore it. Have a good evening.’
‘Do you want anything else to drink?’ Finn asks, his jaw working like he’s chewing on a laugh to keep it from spilling out.
‘No thanks.’ He continues giving the bartender his extensive order as Oliver disappears into the crowd. If you’re bored in London, you might as well be anywhere else. ‘Finn, what are you doing here?’
‘Ordering a round . . . ?’
‘No, I mean, here-here. Are you with a business acquaintance? Or, you know, a business acquaintance ?’
The corners of his mouth twitch and he says, ‘I’m here with the guys for work drinks.’ He looks behind us at a group of people sitting at a table against the far wall, which includes Julien and the lanky redhead from the first night. He sighs when he catches sight of his friend. ‘God, Julien’s indecently handsome, isn’t he? But why do you ask?’
I can be spontaneous. Tonight, I refuse to be bored.
‘Show me your bucket list.’ I remember to tack on a modicum of politeness at the end, ‘Please.’
He slides his phone out of his pocket, pulling up his Notes app, and I skim it, not sure what I’m looking for. The items range from vague to extremely niche, with a whole lot of middle ground. Most aren’t specific to London at all, which makes the list even weirder. Eat at a local restaurant. Become a regular. See the dinosaurs.
At the bottom of the list, I spot a line that says: Find a rooftop .
‘Fancy crossing something off?’ I ask, handing back his phone and spitting the words out before I regret them.
‘And leave my colleagues? I’m the life and soul of the party.’
I glance over to the table from where the raucous sound of his co-workers’ laughter is emanating. ‘I think they’ll survive.’
‘But Ava, won’t they think we’re doing something salacious ?’
‘We’re going to Tesco.’
‘Oh.’ He frowns. ‘I didn’t know that was on my list.’
‘It’s not.’ The pub is loud around us, and I have to lean in to be sure he’ll hear me. ‘Listen, I have an idea, but this is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it.’
His smile catches me off guard, bouncing across his face and up to his eyes the way sunlight hits a skyscraper; unexpectedly brightening an otherwise gloomy day. ‘Of course I’m taking it. But let me get these drinks to the others first.’
Julien must’ve been keeping an eye on the beverage progress, because he appears at the bar just as the bartender finishes making the last drinks on Finn’s order.
‘Hey Ava,’ he says, voice as velvety as ever. ‘Please tell me you’ve figured out how loose this man is with his credit card. He’ll always get you a double, even when you ask for a single to be polite. It’s my favourite thing about him.’ He slaps a hand on Finn’s shoulder and plants a kiss on his hair.
‘I’m actually leaving in a minute,’ I clarify. ‘But I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘There’s always next time,’ Julien says with a shrug. There’s definitely not always next time, because there won’t be a next time.
‘Wait, that’s your favourite thing about me?’ Finn asks. ‘Not my eternal optimism or encyclopaedic knowledge of palaeontology?’
‘I said what I said,’ Julien replies smoothly.
‘Ava’s said she’s going to help me with my bucket list.’
‘I’m helping you with one item on your bucket list,’ I correct.
‘What did he promise you to get you to help?’ Julien asks, picking up four glasses with a level of dexterity I envy. ‘Did he offer any kind of payment?’
‘I was thinking of requesting a vow of silence for any time he’s in the coffee shop, but I’m open to suggestions.’
Julien’s pensive. ‘Can you petition for that vow to extend to the office as well? I’d love some peace and quiet.’
‘Absolutely, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.’
‘Hey, not sure if you two know, but I am right here,’ Finn says, raising his hand. He spins around to tap his phone on the card reader to pay. ‘And to think, Julien, I was gonna offer you my drink, seeing as it’s now going to waste. Guess it’ll have to go to Rory instead.’
For a split second I feel bad for pulling Finn away from his friends, but he doesn’t seem too bothered.
‘I’ll just say bye,’ he says to me, lightly tapping my arm before picking up the remaining drinks and heading over to the table with Julien, neither of them spilling a drop amidst the constant jostling of people in their path. Finn takes about five times as long to say his goodbyes as I would, all dramatic expressions and giant gestures that make him look like he’s playing charades. Eventually he rejoins me by the bar and I motion him towards the door, which he holds open and makes me walk through first.