23 and the Academy Award goes to . . . me
23
and the Academy Award goes to . . . me
Finn
I can’t lie and say it was a perfect performance, but pretending my heart wasn’t flip-flopping around my chest last night when Ava came through the door looking the way she did should be studied in drama schools. She doesn’t even have to try, and all I want is to say something that’ll make her laugh, or think I’m smart, or just give me a second of attention.
I groan into my pillow. For the first time in a long while, I get the urge to text the woman I was casually seeing during my first few months in London, in the vain hope it’ll shake this feeling out of me. But no . I can’t contact that poor woman when my mind’s on someone else.
Someone who is committed to our original plan: be friends, hang out, complete the bucket list. I should be committed to the plan too, but it’s difficult when she occupies every scrap of headspace. I’m the one who’s leaving soon, I’m the one who suggested we be friends, yet I’m the one who can’t help wondering about all the maybes.
Maybe I’m a fool for letting myself get too close. Even more of a fool for refusing to step away until the last possible moment, knowing full well it’ll make it harder in the long run.
Maybe I’m imagining the moments where I swear she feels the magnetism too. Where, for a second, her lips part and her heartbeat thunders in the spot just below her jaw, and she’s so perfectly legible I want to tell her, We’re speaking the same language, Ava. Please let me in.
Or maybe I should get a grip, let her date random men whose entire personality is that they’re six foot four, and continue giving Oscar-worthy performances where I act like she doesn’t make me burn up with a single glance.
When I open the blinds, the sky is an entirely cloudless blue. I need to spend some time outside, feel the sun on my face, get my heart pumping. I’ll ask Julien if he wants to go to the park and I can put Ava out of my mind until Monday.
I pick up my phone to text him, but, because the gods are laughing at me today, I receive a message from Ava the second I do. She’s sent a picture of herself next to her laptop and my heart flutters. She’s not exactly smiling, but I know her well enough to spot the slight lift of her cheeks that gives her good mood away.
With a sigh I fling myself back on my bed and look at the photo. I zoom in and see my work on her laptop screen. I don’t know why, but some part of me didn’t expect her to actually look over it, and that little heart flutter turns into a whole flock of birds taking off.
finn: How was my presentation?
ava: I want to tell you it was shit
ava: but it was actually quite good
finn: Not sure how to feel about that ‘actually’
I want to ask how her date went. If she tells me she had a terrible time, I’ll feel bad for manifesting it. If she tells me it was a success, I’ll feel even worse.
ava: what are you doing right now?
I open up my camera without thinking and send her a selfie in reply. It’s only after I’ve pressed send that uncharacteristic nerves fill my stomach. My hair’s a mess, I forgot to check for any post-sleep grossness in my eyes, and it’s just occurred to me that I haven’t shaved in days.
ava: nice beard
finn: Can we really call that a beard?
finn: I feel like it’s heavy-duty stubble at best
ava: whatever you say Santa
ava: you should keep it
finn: It’s honestly kind of itchy
ava: the ladies love stubble
My fingers hover over my screen for a few moments while I decide what to say.
finn: In that case, I’ll keep it
finn: Just for you
And then I tuck my phone under my pillow and speedwalk to the shower, because I don’t want to see her response.
Julien meets me outside my building, bulky tote bag on his shoulder, and the second he sees me, laughter ripples through him. ‘You look distraught.’
A weak laugh puffs out of me too. ‘Don’t. I’m having a moment.’
‘Any particular reason?’ I meet his eye guiltily and he whoops as he falls into step beside me, drawing the attention of a family waiting at the bus stop over the road. ‘I fucking knew it.’
He chews his gum nonchalantly and waits for me to tell him some juicy gossip that doesn’t even exist.
‘Nothing has happened.’ He raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t believe me. ‘I’m just . . .’
I trail off with a grumble and Julien switches to French in his excitement. ‘I told you and you were adamant you’d never go there. Don’t ever say I don’t know you.’
My brain resolutely sticks to English. ‘I still haven’t gone there and won’t go there. I’m not an idiot.’
‘I know I wasn’t entirely on board with it before, but I dunno. Seeing you interact over the past few months, in a weird way, it makes sense. The two of you together.’
‘We’re not together, Jesus. My point still stands. Maybe even more than before. She has her life here, I’ll be gone soon, and then we can just forget about whatever this was.’ Before he can butt in again, I add, ‘Besides, she’s dating other people. If that’s not proof she’s not interested, I don’t know what is.’
For a while, I was under the impression Ava had stopped dating. My na?ve subconscious thought it could’ve been because of me. But recently, she’s started up again and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
‘Or,’ Julien reasons, ‘maybe she’s dating other people because you suggested the two of you be friends.’
His smile is bright on his face while I scratch at the scruff on my jaw. Because yes, it’s itchy, but obviously I’m keeping it.
‘Can we just move on?’
‘Fine.’ We wait at a crossing, stepping out when the coast is clear. After a few moments, Julien asks, ‘How did your meeting go with that woman’s daughter the other day?’
‘It was good,’ I say, eager for the distraction. ‘I passed her information over to Miranda, so hopefully she’ll be able to replace me when I go.’
Sure, I could’ve told Ava that my so-called date with Alex at the restaurant was actually just an informal business meeting, but then I wouldn’t have witnessed a new version of her. I’m sure she was jealous. Not that she’d admit it to herself, and certainly not to me, but it was enough to make her so frustrated that she popped her own personal space bubble to get in mine. Not correcting her misunderstanding about my intentions with Alex felt like a rare situation between us where I had any semblance of control.
‘It’s weird that you’re leaving,’ Julien sighs. ‘I’ve only just got used to having you around again. You sure you don’t want to stay?’
The truth is, even if I wasn’t gunning for this job, I’d be leaving anyway. It won’t be long before I’ve outstayed my welcome in London and I’ll need to leave, whether it’s for San Francisco or another consulting gig somewhere else. That’s the way this always goes.
‘You’ll just have to miss me.’ I slap a hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid his bag. It contains what I can only assume is a bottle of wine from the sommelier course he started and stopped a few months ago. I’m in the mood to drink the whole thing. ‘Think you can remember how to do that?’
Julien throws his head back for one of his giant laughs, and says, ‘I have more than enough experience.’ While moving around so much as a child turned into a lifelong habit for me, it had the opposite effect on Julien. ‘You’re always welcome on my couch. Well, no. Not always. Two weeks, max. Three, if you’re willing to clean.’
‘You say this as if cleaning isn’t one of my all-time favourite activities.’ My apartment is spotless, but I can’t wait to move into a new place and hopefully, maybe, finally be allowed to move the fucking mugs around.
‘I mean this in the kindest way, but you need to get laid.’
‘Oh my god, fuck off. I don’t see your love life thriving at the moment either.’
‘Yeah, but I’m also not moping . Nowadays, all you do is clean your flat, gallivant around London and pine.’
I act like I didn’t hear the final part of his sentence. ‘Tidy apartment, tidy mind.’
‘How’s that working out for you?’
‘Wonderfully,’ I lie, chaos still tearing through my brain like a tornado.