20 there’s nothing sexier than a good piece of masonry
20
there’s nothing sexier than a good piece of masonry
Ava
Just as I finish serving another customer, soy-latte-Samantha stops by the counter. She talked my ear off about her daughter for five minutes straight earlier and I brace myself for another onslaught of information.
Instead, she asks, ‘Could you do me a favour?’
‘I can try.’ I’m careful not to promise anything.
‘I was hoping I’d spot Finn in here – I’m going away for a few weeks tomorrow so won’t see him any time soon. I’ve mentioned my daughter, Alexandra, to him before and keep forgetting to give him her number. Would you be able to give this to him the next time he comes in?’
She hands me a slip of paper and I stare at it between us. I’ve never explicitly asked Finn if he’s dating, and he’s never brought it up. He, like a well-adjusted person, probably keeps his exploits to himself. I’m not entitled to know everything about him. God knows he hears enough about my own dating life to make up for it.
‘I’m not sure if he’s single.’
‘That’s . . . fine.’ Samantha has a strange expression on her face and says, ‘I’d really appreciate if you could give it to him. He knows I was going to put them in contact.’
Ignoring the nagging voice in my head, I say, ‘No worries. I’ll get it to him.’
She smiles and leaves the shop, and the piece of paper sits untouched on the counter for an hour. That is, until I’m overcome by the unexpected, overwhelming urge to get rid of it.
I regret throwing it away almost immediately, which is why, when the front door opens, I’m sure whoever just walked into City Roast will be bewildered to find me elbows deep in the bin.
‘Am I interrupting something?’
Finn appears on the other side of the counter, eyes showing all the amusement his twitching mouth is struggling to contain.
I straighten, my hair dishevelled, coffee grounds as far as the eye can see, but in my hand is my prize: a crumpled piece of paper.
‘This is for you,’ I say, handing it to him.
He takes it gingerly between his thumb and index finger. ‘Fantastic,’ he says flatly, ‘just what I’ve always wanted.’
I seize it back, wiping it on my apron to get rid of most of the gunk before placing it back in his outstretched hand. ‘Soy-la— uh, Samantha gave me this. She gave me her daughter’s number to give to you so that you can ask her out.’ I wash my hands while he wordlessly waits by the counter. I don’t know what I expected from him. Maybe a heartfelt thank you, or some sort of celebration. I didn’t expect him to look at me like I’d just suggested he chop off his own foot. ‘You never know, she could be the love of your life.’
‘I feel that’s unlikely,’ he says, clearing his throat as I start making a drink. ‘What do you know about her?’
This is my time to shine. I talk to him over the sound of the coffee grinding. ‘She’s called Alexandra, Alex for short, is twenty-five, got an economics degree at Durham, did a master’s in marketing at LSE, and now lives in Maida Vale.’
‘Not much, then.’
‘She’s also an equestrian.’
‘My favourite star sign.’
I glare at him as I tamp the coffee. ‘She travels the world competing and has won tons of awards. Samantha’s very proud of her. I think you’d work well with someone who travels a lot.’
If he’s going to be with anyone, it’ll be someone who won’t make him feel claustrophobic and glued to one place.
‘Do you spend a lot of your free time thinking about my love life?’
I ignore both the question and the smug smile teasing his mouth. ‘She sounds incredible, right?’
‘Sure. But no thanks.’
My hands freeze. ‘What do you mean, “no thanks”?’
‘There’s really only one definition, Ava.’ He drops his voice to a whisper. ‘No.’
‘But I’ve seen photos. She’s beautiful and talented.’
‘What do you want me to say? I’m sure she’s great. And I’ll take her number, but I’m not going on a date with her.’
‘Why not?’ I’m not entirely sure why this comes out as a whine. Or why I’m so desperate for him to go on this date. I brush loose hair away from my face and wait for him to explain.
‘Don’t want to,’ he says simply. He reaches towards me, but at the last second closes his fist and pulls back, murmuring, ‘You have coffee grounds on your cheek.’
I guess my brain must’ve prepared itself for the touch of his fingertips against my skin, because I feel a bit like I just missed a step. I rub the back of my hand across my face and steel myself to ask, ‘Why not? Already got enough women on the cards?’
His hand flexes on the counter, and for the briefest moment, a muscle pulses in his jaw and something like frustration passes across his face, and then he lets out a long-suffering sigh. ‘Something like that.’ He looks askance between the bin and the dirty paper. ‘Why was the paper in the bin?’
‘Oh,’ I say, scooping ice into a cup. ‘I dropped it in there. By accident. Not intentionally.’
‘Right. Well, I appreciate the effort. Thanks for diving through coffee grounds for me.’ He quirks an eyebrow. ‘I probably could’ve just asked Samantha for the number the next time I saw her, though.’
‘For your information, she’s on holiday for the next few weeks.’ I send him a glower. ‘But to make up for plunging into the bin for you, you should go out with Alexandra.’
‘Have you always been this pushy?’
‘Have you only just noticed?’
The cogs turn in his brain, and then one half of his mouth pulls up. ‘I’ll go out with Alex-the-twenty-five-year-old-equestrian-who-lives-in-Maida-Vale on one condition.’ I narrow my eyes and he continues, ‘You agree to go out with someone of my choosing.’
My instinct is to say no, and I think he expects me to say it too, because I never date mutual friends. But maybe this is all it’ll take to make me feel normal again, to quieten the weird emotions that have been swirling around my chest cavity. Maybe it’ll take my mind off the what-ifs.
I lift my chin and say, ‘Deal.’
‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ Henry says to me as we cross the threshold of the restaurant. He’s the lanky blonde from Finn’s work that he set me up with, and while blonde men are decidedly hit or miss for me, at least he’s cute.
The clatter of cutlery against plates and the low hum of chatter greets us just before the ma?tre d’ does. ‘Table for two?’
I’d initially set this restaurant aside for a bucket list item, but when Henry proposed we meet in Covent Garden after work, I panicked and suggested it. It’s already packed in here, as I expected it would be, but I’m holding out for a miracle. ‘Please. Are there any window booths available?’
A wall of windows stretches to the left, with comfy booths perfect for people-watching, warm lightbulbs swinging over every table. To our right is a line of small tables and rickety chairs against the wall, so close together I’m concerned they violate fire-safety regulations.
Her face twists in apology as she points to the single free table closest to the door. ‘This is our last table. It’ll be at least an hour’s wait for a booth, likely closer to two.’
I say weakly, ‘We’ll take whatever’s available.’
There’s a tint on the windows, so the restaurant is darker than it should be, and we cast an eye over the menu by the light of our table’s single tea light. At least it’s romantic, I guess. Might get us in the mood.
Eventually, I give up squinting and use my phone’s torch to see properly. By the time I turn the flashlight off I look up to find Henry staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read. It’s either confusion or lust. I lean towards the latter; that’s what I’m here for, after all.
‘What are you thinking?’ I ask, nodding towards the menu and shifting on to one elbow, chin in my hand. The move doesn’t not emphasise my chest.
‘Not sure yet.’ He licks his lips but avoids dropping his gaze. ‘I just know I need to save room for dessert.’
‘See anything you like?’ I still can’t tell what’s going on in his head. I lower my voice. ‘Something that isn’t on the menu?’
He purses his lips and gestures to the leather booklet open on the table. ‘The menu looks pretty good, to be honest.’ He points at something on the page and his eyes light up. ‘There’s baklava.’
I soon realise Henry and I are not compatible, and just as quickly begin to wonder if Finn set us up as some kind of joke. And yet, I’m determined to stick it out, out of spite.
‘And it was funny because of the reputation he has for being a player,’ Henry says with a chuckle, graciously explaining the punchline of my own story back to me.
Someone leaves the restaurant and, for the millionth time this evening, the door sticks, noise and air from outside flooding in. Neither Henry nor I are quite close enough to shut it without getting up, so it invariably stays wedged open for longer than necessary.
I flag the waiter down for another drink, hoping it’ll make me less irritable, but just as they walk away, I hear a sound that sends me reeling even further. A laugh I know all too well.
My head whips around to find the source, and then I spot him. Sprawled across the window booth in the corner with the best view is Finn O’Callaghan, wearing the same striped blue shirt he wore the night we went to Tamesis Dock. When the woman he’s with leans forward as she laughs, hand slapping the table, I realise it’s Alexandra the equestrian. For some inexplicable reason, rage bubbles underneath my skin.
And after hearing his laugh once, I can’t unhear it. He and Alex are clearly having a wonderful time, while I’m stuck with Henry, who’s taken to explaining the merits of stonemasonry over brick walls for the second time this evening. Every time I think we’ve found common ground, he says something else I either don’t understand or have no interest in. But I’d be able to pay much better attention if I weren’t hearing that fucking noise every ten seconds.
As time progresses, the annoyance threatens to boil over. How could Finn choose someone so bad for me when I found him someone he’s actually having a good time with?
When he stands to go to the bathroom, I follow thirty seconds later and wait in the corridor for him. And when he comes back through the door, dragging a hand through his hair, he barely has time to breathe before I’ve backed him against the wall, no more than two feet between us.
His eyebrows rise in aggravating amusement, eyes just the right side of tipsy, but he doesn’t seem surprised that I’m here. ‘Nice to see you too, Ava Monroe. What a delightful coincidence.’
‘Of all the restaurants in London, you’re here at the same one as me, at exactly the same time I am?’
‘I’d heard good things about this place.’ The corridor’s low-lit, but there’s enough light to see he’s enjoying this reaction from me.
‘I told you about this restaurant. And when to come.’
‘And you’re annoyed that I . . . listened to you?’ He folds his arms and leans back just slightly, appraising me with the kind of languid look that would make weaker women than me blush.
‘You need to leave. It’s not fair. You’re . . .’ I pull my eyes away from his arms, because he’s quite obviously folded them to make them look better in that stupid blue shirt. ‘You’re distracting me.’
He barks out a laugh. ‘Says the person keeping me away from my table by accosting me on my way out of the bathroom.’
‘I’m distracted by how obnoxiously loud your laugh is. I can hear it from all the way over by the door.’
‘Oh, you’re sitting by the door?’ His face fills with mock pity, lips moving into a pout. ‘You should try the window booths, they’re great.’
‘If I have to hear you roar with laughter one more time I’m going to—’
‘To what?’ That stupid telltale mouth twitch. He drops his voice, ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.’
‘Why would I be jealous?’
He watches me steadily. ‘You tell me.’
Fuck, he’s right. Maybe I am jealous. Jealous he’s having a good time. Not jealous of anything else. Definitely not of Alex the equestrian. Still, the air feels different in this hallway, somehow thicker and lighter at the same time, and it’s making it difficult for me to fully catch my breath.
‘Dinner with Henry is going well, I take it?’ he asks. His biceps flex when he tightens his folded arms.
‘He’s lovely.’
‘Agreed. A bit eccentric, but lovely.’
My eyes are slits. I can barely see but I’m hoping I at least look menacing. ‘Eccentric is one word for it. Do you know what he just told me?’
‘No?’
‘Guess.’
He frowns. ‘That’s . . . Ava, that’s quite a broad question.’
‘Fucking guess.’ I’m about four seconds from stomping on his head, and I’m wearing my Docs tonight, so I really feel like I could do some damage.
He looks at me, from my shoulders down to my toes, slow and deliberate, and my skin flushes under his gaze. ‘He told you he likes your outfit?’
‘No.’ The frustration rises, a rumble in my stomach threatening to erupt into a growl. ‘Guess again.’
His eyes glint in the flickering light from the bulb above our heads. ‘That blue biros are better than black biros?’
‘No. But they are.’
‘They absolutely are not.’
Someone comes out of the bathroom door behind me and I step closer to Finn to give them space. Neither of us moves after they’ve passed. Blood rushes to my head and my jaw clenches in determination to win this standoff. ‘Try again.’
‘He told you he believed Gareth Gates should’ve been crowned the winner of Pop Idol in 2002, not Will Young?’
‘That,’ I exhale through my nose as slowly as I can, that irritatingly perfect curl of his shifting on his forehead with my breath, ‘was arguably too niche.’
‘I’ve been spending too much time with you.’
‘I know that .’ The glee in his eyes is unmistakable, and I heave a sigh. ‘He just informed me of the reason his last relationship ended. Said he cheated on his ex-girlfriend. Do you know who his ex-girlfriend was?’
‘You keep asking me questions that I have no way of knowing the answer to.’
‘The Berlin fucking Wall, Finn,’ I groan. ‘He regularly took trips to Germany to see her. It.’
‘So he’s a history buff. Nice.’ I was expecting at least a modicum of surprise at this reveal, but his expression is entirely unchanged, his arms still folded against his chest.
‘He emotionally cheated on her with Hadrian’s Wall.’
‘The Ancient Roman one? That’s a MILF of a wall, to be fair.’
His ease makes me want to scream. ‘How are you so unfazed by this information?’
‘You’re being very judgemental, did you know? To each his own.’ His tone is flat, but when he shifts his weight and moves an inch closer, his chest starts to rise and fall quicker than normal.
‘He can like whoever or whatever he wants, but forgive me for being under the impression you’d set me up on a date that could actually go somewhere .’
He snorts. ‘You won’t believe me, but I honestly didn’t know about this. So I’m sorry I messed up your date, but,’ he scrunches his nose before a smile splits his entire face open; the least apologetic any person has ever looked, ‘I’m also not. It’s funny. You have to admit that.’
‘I think I’m too sentient for him,’ I say under my breath.
‘Must be nice. Bet you’ve never been told you have too many feelings before.’ I huff and the angry puff of air makes him blink. ‘That’s rough, actually, sorry. I don’t get why he even agreed to go out with you.’
‘Because I’m that bad of a catch?’
His smile fades as his gaze trails over me again, and his voice rumbles between us. ‘No, Ava.’
When he meets my eyes, his are liquid heat, and I’m trying to make sense of the pressure in my chest, of the way the atmosphere is pure friction scratching against me and searing my skin.
But then he claps his hands together and I suck in a breath and step backwards.
‘This was fun, but I have someone to get back to. If you don’t mind, I’d love to squeeze past.’ His hand grazes the small of my back as he moves past, his voice coarse as he says, ‘Enjoy your evening.’
Over the rest of the night, I try to lean into Henry’s eccentricities. It sort of works. I’m still very aware we’d be a terrible fit, but while Old Ava would’ve left within fifteen minutes, New Ava sticks it out, because she knows that sometimes people surprise you. It’s probably a more enlightening way to spend my Friday than usual, at least.
At one point I glance over to the window booths, and I’m not sure if it’s the light glinting across his glasses, but I swear Finn winks at me. I avert my eyes and dig into my baklava, which is incredible, to be honest. If nothing else, Henry has great taste in desserts.
On my way back to the table after another trip to the bathroom, I cross paths with Finn and Alex leaving.
‘Hey Henry,’ Finn says brightly, making the man in question jump. ‘Hope you’ve been having a good night.’
‘Oh yeah, it’s been great,’ he says. We both know this is a lie, but there’s a camaraderie between us about it.
I have to slide behind Finn to get back to my seat, but I freeze when he drops his mouth to my ear. I’m sure he can hear my heartbeat pounding through my head. He is far, far too close.
He whispers, ‘You have toilet paper on your shoe.’ Sure enough, there’s a trail of tissue at my feet. ‘See you on Monday,’ he says with a grin, opening the door for Alex and following closely behind.