Chapter 26
The one thing I’m not going to do is let the drink-spiking incident steal my joy for the club night.
Yes, I’m still rattled by it, but I don’t want to let it consume my every thought.
Instead of leaving my drink at the front of the booth like I normally do, I’m extremely careful to put it right behind me every time I take a sip.
The union is in full Christmas mode: tinsel hanging off everything, strings of lights wherever they can be strung, paper garlands arcing across the ceiling. It’s actually quite cute.
Morgan and Aleesha periodically come over to check in and report on the vibe, which, as I can observe from my perch in the DJ booth, is immaculate.
I can’t believe I nearly let some shithead ruin this for me.
I can’t believe I nearly cancelled the whole thing.
(Don’t think about the fact that the person who did it could be here right now and you’d have no idea, don’t think about that).
Something that’s nice about this particular night is that I’m devoting precisely zero brain space to wondering if Felix fucking Balfour is going to show up.
I mean, it would be nice if he did, you know, to .
. . pay tribute or whatever people do in mafia movies, but it’s not like my levels of hype live or die based on whether Felix is there.
What the hell was I thinking? Wasting that much time and energy on someone as pathetic as Felix? Deeply unchic.
When I look up from my laptop I see that someone’s waving at me from the other side of the dance floor.
A tentative wave, not a wild, enthusiastic wave like most of my friends would be doing.
I can only think of one person who cuts such an imposing figure.
Laurie. He makes his way across the dance floor towards the DJ booth.
‘Hello, Laurie,’ I say, and for the first time, there’s no sharp tone. I feel happy to see him. I sound happy to see him.
‘I didn’t want to bother you while you were working, but . . .’ He trails off.
‘Oh, no, bother away.’ I realise now that I should have contacted him since he took me home after the last club night.
I should have thanked him properly. But there was too much going on in my brain and I didn’t have room for Laurie.
I hope he knows that I appreciated it. I hope he understands that.
‘I just wanted to say . . .’ he says, but his voice is too low and quiet for me to be able to hear him.
‘Come in!’ I say, gesturing for him to actually enter the DJ booth, which is something I haven’t permitted anyone else to do tonight. Gotta have professional boundaries, right?
He smiles awkwardly but steps up into the slightly raised booth. Now he’s towering over me even more. ‘I wanted to tell you that I think your new podcast slot is . . . well, it’s really great.’ He clears his throat. ‘You’re a total natural.’
I feel myself blush at how completely straightforward the compliment is. No messing about. ‘Oh! Thank you,’ I say, looking at him.
‘It’s . . .’ He trails off again, breaks my gaze. ‘It’s great to hear your voice.’ Laurie swallows and I realise that he’s exuding a strange, nervous energy. ‘Just a shame not to be able to see your face at the same time.’
‘Ha,’ I say, ‘I think video is maybe a level of effort I’m not yet willing to make . . . but maybe one day.’
‘Anyway,’ he says, ‘I can’t stay, I just wanted to swing by and congratulate you on your post-magazine life . . .’
‘I’ve formulated a theory that the less time a person can spend with Felix the better,’ I say with a bitter laugh.
He throws his hands up as if to say ‘you said it, not me’, and I’m struck by this sharp little thought that they look really quite lovely, all big and soft, just like him.
‘What nice hands you have,’ I say, before I realise I’m saying it.
His eyes widen, and his cheeks turn pink as he looks down at them. ‘Well, thank you.’
I clear my throat, wanting the whole thing to be over. Why did I say that? To him! ‘Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got more interesting places to be. Thank you for coming, even just for a little bit.’
He gives me a small smile and puts a hand on my shoulder.
It’s like we want to hug but can’t. Instead, he squeezes; his big, soft hand all warm against my bare skin.
‘See you. Or . . . hear you, I suppose,’ he says.
While his eyes are still lingering on me, I see Charlotte Sherman approaching from behind him. The moment is nearly over.
‘There you are!’ she says, as if he’s her lost dog. ‘We were going to head out and go to the pub, are you coming?’
‘Yes, sure,’ he says quickly, like he’s desperate to extricate himself from a situation he isn’t quite sure how he got himself into.
‘Well,’ I say lightly, ‘I’ll see you around.’
Laurie nods and doesn’t quite look me in the eye, and then he’s gone.
I don’t have much time alone with my thoughts because within about three seconds he’s replaced by Patrick Denton. ‘That was a close one!’ he says, a naughty smile on his face.
‘What do you mean?’ I call to him over the edge of the booth.
Pat nods above my head. I turn to look, and see a little red ribbon hanging from the ceiling, a sprig of mistletoe dangling directly over me. ‘Nearly had to kiss a newspaper guy. Can you imagine?’
‘Ha . . .’ I say weakly.
‘Anyway, is it time for Mariah yet?’
I smile, trying to put the thought of the mistletoe out of my head even though it makes me feel a bit fizzy inside. ‘I think so.’
‘Iconic!’ he yells over his shoulder as he dashes back to his group.
I’m so distracted by what Pat has said that I don’t even think about what Laurie said until later in the evening.
‘Just a shame not to be able to see your face . . .’ Laurie wishes he could see my face.
I queue ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine because we’ve reached the point in the evening where I know everyone wants to be grinding on each other, and Christmas songs don’t generally lend themselves well to grinding.
Someone comes up to the booth and requests ‘More Than a Woman’ by Aaliyah, presumably to facilitate even more grinding.
I look up at the mistletoe hanging above the DJ booth. I swallow down a rising uncomfortable feeling. The feeling that it might have been nice to have an excuse to kiss Laurie.