EZRA

hey audrey, it’s ezra. i was wondering if you’re free this weekend. if you are, then

No. Too formal and weird. I delete what I’ve written and start over.

hi audrey, ezra here. it was really great to see you last

God, no. I try again.

morning. what are your feelings about food, and potentially eating some with me? me being ezra.

Fuck it , I think, and hit send before I lose my nerve. Then I tuck my phone into my jeans and get back to cleaning.

When I woke up this morning my apartment was littered with trash, every flat surface was sticky and someone had puked in the kitchen sink. And yet, I’m pretty damn chipper. Last night was better than I had any reasonable hope to expect and it ended with Audrey’s name at the very top of my phone contacts.

We talked all night – or for as long as she was there, at least, which was nowhere near as long as I would have liked. And she is, for lack of a better word, lovely. I don’t even remember the bulk of what was said, just how easy it was. It felt like the verbal equivalent of a Fred and Ginger routine – that’s how in sync we were.

Still, I’m trying not to overthink it, hence the energy I’m devoting to wiping down these countertops. Audrey might not reply right away, if at all. She’s busy, I figure, and—

Then my phone buzzes in my pocket and I scramble for it so quickly that I almost drop it.

Positive :) Are you free now?

I grin, dropping the sponge and wiping my hands on my jeans. Sod the countertops. I’m getting brunch.

‘This is so good. Oh my God.’

‘You like it?’

‘Yes! God – I can’t believe I used to think that goat’s cheese was gross.’

‘Accepting past mistakes is an important step toward personal growth.’

Audrey takes another bite of her bagel in lieu of reply, holding it with both hands like she’s scared someone might take it away. Maybe she’s all too aware that I ate mine in about six bites, though in fairness, it was very fucking good.

We’re at this record-shop/deli/coffee place downtown, one of Caroline’s favourite haunts. It’s too far out of the way for me to come here often but I wanted to dazzle Audrey with my urbanite know-how by taking her somewhere cool. I doubt it’s worked but she seems happy. I know I am, sitting opposite her at a wobbly metal table on the pavement outside. I’m still grappling with how surreal this all is, actually. Last night feels like a dream – I still don’t believe in cosmic whatever, but there was a definite vibe of unreality that I haven’t quite shaken off. Of course, that fact that she looks like she does isn’t helping. It’s a clear, blue-skied morning, and in the daylight, I can see her smattering of freckles, the coppery tint to her dark hair. She’s probably noticing how unkempt my eyebrows are.

‘There’s goat’s cheese gnocchi on the menu at your restaurant,’ she says then, delicately dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. ‘I really wanted to try it.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Well, everyone else had ordered salad, so …’

‘Oh, you were the salad table! I cleared your plates!’

‘The salad table?’

‘Uh-huh. The kitchen loved you. Easiest service of the night.’

‘Good to know.’

‘Sorry.’ I grin. ‘Come back sometime and Romy’ll make you that gnocchi. Extra cheese and everything.’

‘Romy – is she the chef I met?’

‘Uh-huh. And my sister’s girlfriend.’

‘Oh, you have a sister?’

‘Two. How about you?’

‘Just me,’ she says – a little sadly, maybe? I don’t know her well enough to tell, yet.

‘Must have been quiet.’

‘Uh-huh. Apart from all the construction noise.’

‘The what?’

‘My parents fix up houses. It’s their thing.’

‘Oh, that’s cool. Like a hobby, or … ?’

‘Like a job.’ She shrugs, looking embarrassed. ‘We live in them while they renovate. I know it’s weird.’

‘They were probably around a lot, at least.’

‘Sure. I’d have rather had sisters, though.’

‘Take mine.’

She smiles, but I think this conversation might have gotten too personal too soon. I mentally fumble for a segue.

‘Do you like the city?’ I manage – clunky but salvageable.

‘Oh, totally. I haven’t done anything touristy, though.’

‘Maybe we can see if they have bagels at the Empire State Building, next time.’

‘Is it worth it? The view?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never been.’

‘Seriously? How long have you lived here?’

‘Uh – on and off, like … ten years, almost?’

‘On and off?’

‘Yeah. We moved here when I was, like, seven. I did boarding school for a bit, though, and that was back in England. Now I’m here again.’

‘Really? I used to be desperate to go to boarding school!’ she gasps, eyes wide. ‘I always pictured myself in this huge, beautiful library, working at one of those big long desks while it got all pink and dusky outside.’

‘Wow. That’s an extremely nerdy fantasy.’

‘You’re the one who actually went!’

‘Not by choice.’

Her expression shifts then, her brow creasing. ‘Oh. Really?’

Ah. We’re getting too deep again, only this time I’m the one in the emotional firing line.

‘It’s not much of a story,’ I say. ‘I skipped school a few times. Too many, it turned out.’

‘So … you got sent away?’

‘It sounds very Dickensian, when you put it like that.’

‘Sorry,’ she says quickly. ‘I wasn’t trying to sound judgy. I mean – it’s not as if my parents are so perfect. They can’t always find the kind of project they want in the same area so we move a lot. I used to think I was fine with it, but I don’t know any more. Maybe not.’

‘Are you still living with them?’

‘I guess so,’ she says after a beat. ‘Maybe I’ll move out permanently if the whole modelling thing works out.’

‘But it’s going well so far, right? I mean – you’re here.’

‘I think so. The whole thing just kind of … happened. But I care about doing a good job, even if it’s only for a little while.’

‘That’s cool. Cool to have something you care about.’

Audrey doesn’t reply to that – she’s looking at her phone, frowning at the screen.

‘Um … sorry,’ she says haltingly. ‘I just got a message from Marika.’

Marika, her friend from last night who spent a good chunk of the evening eyeing me suspiciously. I liked her.

‘Everything okay?’

‘No. I mean – yes, but I have to go,’ she says, glancing up at me with big, stricken eyes. ‘Our agent wants to see us, apparently – last minute. I’m sorry, I—’

‘No worries. Where’s the meeting?’

‘Her office. It’s close to Madison Square Park – is that nearby?’

‘It’s walkable. You know the address?’

‘Uh-huh. I mean – I’ll recognise the building when I see it. I’m not great with orientation, but …’

‘Want me to come with?’

‘Would you? I mean – you don’t have to.’

‘I’d like to,’ I say honestly. She smiles, obviously relieved.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says again. ‘This is so annoying. And you’re being so cool about it, which – thank you.’

‘Were you expecting me to flip a table or something?’

‘You could reasonably be annoyed!’ she laughs.

‘You followed through on the plans,’ I point out. ‘We’re just condensing them.’

‘You’re a secret optimist. Noted.’

‘Open misanthrope, actually. Maybe jot that down somewhere so you don’t forget.’

‘Mm-hm,’ she says, still smiling. I feel the corners of my own mouth twitching to echo it and have to look away, up at the cloudless sky.

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