25 wish me luck, and some sanity would be nice too
25
wish me luck, and some sanity would be nice too
Finn
I’m barely inside the shop, still holding the door open for another customer when I hear, ‘Finn, I need your expertise.’
‘Good morning, Ava. I’ve had a great week, thanks for asking.’
‘Fine. What have you been up to?’ I open my mouth to respond but she interjects with, ‘Actually, I don’t care.’ My lips come together with a quiet pop as I approach the counter. ‘I need you to teach me how to be charming.’
‘I can’t imagine why you’d need me to do that.’
Her eyes narrow into slits. ‘I’ve been doing some soul-searching—’
‘I didn’t know you had one of those.’
‘Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to interrupt?’ We settle into our spots; her behind the till, me perusing the snacks. ‘ Anyway , I was thinking that since I’m trying to date with intention going forward – Google says that’s what it’s called – I need to work on being more agreeable.’
‘Since you’re . . . what?’
‘Making smart decisions with dating. Looking for something more. ’
My heart stalls for the briefest moment, and all I think to ask is, ‘Can I get three flat whites, please?’
‘I’m not your slave,’ she says with a groan. ‘My point is, I can’t be me for this hypothetical love interest. I need to be nicer. Warmer.’
‘Ah, changing yourself for a man. That always works out.’
She aggressively tamps coffee grounds in response. ‘This is actually the part where you say, “Oh no, Ava, you’re already super nice and warm.”’
‘But we both know that would be a bold-faced lie.’ I grab three packets of wafers and slide them on to the counter. ‘You don’t need to sand off your edges. Someone out there will be into the whole prickly thing you’ve got going on.’
‘Right, well, I disagree. I need your tips on how to’ – she moves her hands around in front of her, searching for the words – ‘embrace my natural charm.’
Her natural charm. Ava has the natural charm of one of those spiders that shoots needles from its body. ‘Why can’t Josie teach you? She’s literally a professional speaker.’
‘She’s busy,’ she says, pouring milk into a jug.
‘And I’m not?’
‘I’m not convinced you even have a job. All I ever see you do is drink coffee, move your notebook from one side of your laptop to the other, and periodically get up to flirt with our middle-aged customers.’
‘The elderly customers too, in my defence.’
‘That’s not a defence. Have you ever completed a piece of work in here?’ She starts steaming the milk and, as always, I marvel at how it’s one of the rare activities she can execute non-clumsily.
‘Sorry boss, didn’t realise you were keeping tabs on me.’ Hoping she won’t hear me over the machine, I add under my breath, ‘It’s not my fault this place is distracting.’
She turns off the steam and knocks the jug against the counter, swirling it in place. ‘Why do you work here if it distracts you?’
Now is not the time for that conversation. I rub my jaw and reply, ‘I thought this was about you and the desire to unleash your latent charisma.’
‘It is,’ she says. ‘Just tell me how to be charming. Use your super-alpha-male, manly, masculine knowledge—’
‘Don’t love how many adjectives you used there.’
‘To help me figure out the perfect level of agreeableness to make this guy I’m going out with like me in the right way. Not in, like, a purely sexual way.’ She widens her eyes to emphasise the last part.
‘Hold on, I’m lost. You want the guy you’re dating to not be attracted to you in that way?’
‘Yeah. No. I don’t know. I haven’t had much experience dating for any reasons other than sex.’ She lowers her voice so that customers won’t overhear, although frankly I doubt this conversation would be the most scandalous thing Belinda’s ever heard. ‘I want him to view me kind of how you do.’
I really can’t tell if I’m a fantastic actor, or if she’s just in horrific denial. Both could be true. ‘You want him to treat you like a human, essentially?’
‘Yes, Finn.’ She has the audacity to look at me like I’m the stupid one for not understanding her non-problem. ‘I’ve been planning a date with this guy and acting like I’m interested in his hobbies, and he seems very nice.’ She spits out the word ‘nice’ like it’s a live grenade. ‘And in order to get a second date after this, I need help being similarly . . . pleasant.’
‘I’m not going to tell you to change who you are. You should be yourself.’
She sets the last mug on the counter and looks at me incredulously. ‘That’s a terrible idea.’
‘See? You don’t want my advice.’ I think about anything real I can offer her. ‘I guess, for me, I like when someone shows an interest in something I enjoy, which it sounds like you’re already doing. Maybe for the next date – because that will definitely happen, if you want it to – pick something you want to do instead.’
‘Okay. Thanks. Cool.’
‘Cool,’ I repeat.
‘And how’s it going for you with Alex?’ The words dart out of her. ‘Have you been on any more dates?’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘You were having a good time together at the restaurant, and I’ve seen you glued to your phone recently. I put two and two together. Figured you might’ve seen her again.’
‘And why do you want to know?’
She swallows hard. ‘I’m just curious.’
‘You’re curious. That’s the only reason?’ Her cheeks turn slightly pink, but she doesn’t say anything. There it is again, a whisper of something that tells me I’m not imagining things. Not all of it, anyway. ‘If I were to tell you that I’ve been on my phone a lot trying to plan my dad’s visit, and that I met up with Alex that evening because she’s in marketing and her mum thought she might be interested in taking over my contract when I leave, would that satisfy your curiosity?’
She’s trying to hold back her bewilderment when a pair of hands grabs my shoulders. I recognise Julien from his cologne alone. He smells expensive. ‘Getting a pep talk from Ava before the big interview?’
Rory appears behind him, looking as lost and dishevelled as usual.
‘Shit, that’s today?’ Ava asks, mask back on, running my drinks and snacks through the till at an unbelievable discount. She’s definitely gonna get in trouble for that with her manager. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Must’ve slipped my mind,’ I say with a shrug. For weeks now, San Francisco’s held complicated feelings for me. I can’t wait to get to know a new city, to try the food, to explore hidden corners, to hang out with my dad more. Usually by this point in the process, I’d have already researched restaurants and activities for my first few weeks, but I haven’t planned anything yet. Maybe it’s the fact I don’t know for sure yet if I’m going, so I’m reluctant to get too enthusiastic in case it doesn’t work out.
‘Wait,’ Ava says. ‘Did you say that you’re planning to see your dad? Here?’
Finally, after weeks of rescheduling and endless chats with his assistant, we’ve decided on a date. ‘Yeah, didn’t I tell you? He’s coming in a few weeks’ time.’
‘You didn’t mention it to me either,’ Julien says offhandedly.
‘It’s been chaotic trying to pin him down,’ I reply. My excitement is simmering to near boiling at the prospect of seeing my dad, of telling him I’m likely going to be moving near him soon. I’m almost nervous. But that’s normal, isn’t it? Everyone wants to impress their parents, to have them tell you they’re proud.
‘What are your plans?’ Ava asks, playing with the ends of her hair.
‘We’re hanging out for the whole day, which we never usually get to do, so I’ve got a few options depending on what he’s up for. I’m gonna meet him at his hotel in Knightsbridge in the morning, then we’ll go somewhere bougie for brunch, and then, because he’s really into this very specific type of antique, I was thinking of taking him to a few shops and dealerships in the afternoon.’
‘You’ve really thought it through,’ she says with a small smile and something I can’t decode in her eyes.
‘His assistant told me that when he was here a couple of months ago, he tried to get into this steak restaurant in Soho, but the place was fully booked, so I’ve made a reservation for us. I mean, I’m not personally a massive fan of steak, but there’s got to be something on the menu I’ll enjoy.’
‘Did you know he’d been in London recently?’ Julien asks.
When I shake my head, the exact same expression flashes across his and Ava’s faces, and I can’t tell if it’s pity or annoyance. They’ve misunderstood, so I scramble to explain, ‘No, it’s fine, I was busy anyway. But it’s why I’ve been trying so hard to get this visit sorted.’
Ava clears her throat and says, ‘Sounds like fun.’
It will be, and hopefully, by the time I see my dad, I’ll have positive news for him. My chest hums with the anticipation.
‘I only have half an hour before my next meeting,’ Rory says, breaking whatever’s happening between the rest of us. ‘So if you want me to listen to your pitch, we should start soon.’
He grabs one of the packets of wafers on the counter with a noise of unconstrained glee, and Ava watches him clutch it like Gollum and his Ring. She meets my eye and says, ‘That’s my requirement. Someone who looks at me the way Rory looks at biscuits.’
‘You don’t think anyone looks at you like that?’ Julien asks, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
‘Full transparency, I don’t actually know much about your job,’ Rory says as he peels the packet open. ‘Whenever you talk about SEO I zone out. I’m here because I wanted a coffee, and Julien said he might need reinforcements to keep you away from Av—’
‘Let’s sit,’ I say, a surprised chuckle bursting out of me. As we take our places at a table in the corner, I sweep a few sugar granules off the table into a napkin and look at both Julien and Rory to say, ‘Thanks for that, you two.’
‘No worries,’ Rory says, crumbs flying everywhere as he chomps on a biscuit. ‘Wait, for what?’
The sounds of the coffee shop are a soothing soundtrack to my afternoon of interview prep, and Ava has been covertly administering sustenance in the form of free drinks and snacks for the past few hours.
At one point, she places a cup on my table and says, ‘This is decaf. Because, you know, your bowels.’ Romance isn’t dead, folks.
As it nears four o’clock, I glance away from my laptop to see her running her hands through her loose hair, lifting it into a makeshift ponytail and then letting it drop to her shoulders. She touches her wrist and frowns.
‘By the till,’ I say, stretching my arms above my head with a grunt as I peer at my laptop one last time.
‘What?’ she asks, distractedly reaching for the missing band around her wrist again.
‘Your hair tie. It’s to the left of the till.’
She finds it where I said it was, secures her ponytail again, and pulls the ends apart to tighten it. I pretend I can’t feel her eyes on me as I pack up my stuff.
Her voice is calm when she starts to speak. ‘You’ll smash it. You’re good at what you do. At least, I assume you are. I don’t know. But there’s no way they won’t hire you. You are,’ she pauses, taking the time to choose her words, ‘to my great distress, extremely likeable.’
I raise an eyebrow as I turn to face her. ‘Are you flirting with me?’
I can’t help it. This is the game we’ve played for months; teasing that goes nowhere, incessant back-and-forth. The longer it goes on, the more I realise how much I’ll miss it.
‘As expected, you have decided to make this conversation about how much everyone fancies you, which is not only false, but also untrue and incorrect.’ She tries to keep a straight face, but a grin spills over her expression the way moonlight brightens the dark. ‘But it’s true. They’ll love you. So go, and good luck.’
‘Good luck to you too,’ I say. ‘With sorting your date and everything.’
We’re looking ahead to such different things, but both could culminate in something new. In opposite directions.
‘Not as important,’ she says with a shake of her head. We walk to the door together and she darts in front to open it for me. I stop inches away from her in the doorway, close enough that I can smell the vanilla in her perfume. She leans against the door, a ghost of a smile on her face. ‘I’ll see you at the lido tomorrow morning?’
That tiny kernel of hope in her voice fuels something inside me.
‘I’ll be there. Waiting for you, same as always.’
Her eyes soften. ‘Because I’m usually late.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, pushing past the heaviness in my chest. ‘That’s what I meant.’ We stand there for a few moments longer, and then my mouth opens to start a sentence my brain hasn’t quite figured out how to finish yet. ‘You’re . . .’
‘I’m what?’
Impossible , I think. Impossible to know, impossible to want, impossible to have.
‘You’re needed in the back.’ I swallow and nod towards the counter. ‘Dylan’s been trying to get your attention.’
She’s not the only one.