She’s gorgeous. She’s fun. She’s my friend.
She is my friend.
‘It’s late.’ My voice is hoarse like I’ve drunk a couple of bottles of vodka and smoked a couple of packets of cigarettes since I last used it. ‘We should go. Don’t want to miss the last train.’
‘Very true.’ She’s croaky too.
She takes a little step backwards, away from me, and I move sideways away from her. I’m surprised that my legs do in fact work.
‘So.’ She looks all round like she isn’t entirely sure where she is, and then shakes her head slightly. ‘That way.’
‘Yes, exactly. That way.’
Our conversation’s less easy than it has been. I say it’s less easy. It’s actually non-existent. As inwhatabeautifulevening,yesisn’titlevels of emotionless banality. Well, not emotionless. Certainly from my side there’s emotion; I’m just not sure what the emotionisand I feel like that near-kiss moment, because that’s what it was, is now a big barrier between us.
‘Do you have an early start tomorrow morning?’ I want to make this better; I want things to be straight back to the way they were before the video. It isn’t like anything actually happened. I glance over at Nadia, to see that her brow’s furrowed like she’s thinking hard.
‘Erm.’ She looks at me. Eventually, she says, as though she’s having to make as big an effort to be normal as I am, ‘Ha. Losing my mind there for a moment. I was just trying to remember what day of the week it is. It’s Tuesday today and it will be Wednesday tomorrow.’
‘Nice day-of-the-week knowledge,’ I say, pleased to be able to get in a non-emotional weak joke.
‘Thank you.’ She gives me a small smile. ‘Yes, so tomorrow morning I have a particularly exciting meeting first thing to sign off on some accounts and then I’ll be segueing straight into a few more light-the-world-up accounting meetings before sneaking out for a client lunch with someone who’s actually an old uni friend. Genuinely a client, but also a very good friend.’
‘Nice.’
‘I know. A we’ve-got-to-the-middle-of-the-week genuinely legit treat for ourselves. What about you? Early start tomorrow?’
‘Year 8 basketball club at 8a.m.’
And we go from there, feeling our way back to our usual chat, and by the time we’re at Waterloo, things kind of feel – almost – as thoughthatdidn’t happen.
Only almost, though.
We semi-run together for a train, at Nadia’s best speed-hobble, and if I’m honest, I’m relieved when, after Nadia has said extremely vehemently that she absolutely does not need to be escorted home, I leave the train at Clapham Junction.
Walking along the road home, I check what messages I’ve had through the evening. And I realise that, as usual, I’m a little disappointed that there’s nothing from Lola, even thoughobviouslythere was never going to be.
And then I feel very guilty. Because it feels disloyal tobothof them that I’m thinking in that kind of way about two women at once.
15
NADIA
Well.
I’m still wondering whathappenedthere – or rather didnothappen – as I let myself in through my front door and plonk myself down onto my sofa.
Tom wastotallythinking about kissing me. As much as I wanted him to. I could see it in his eyes. And feel it in the way things were definitely awkward afterwards.
I almost reached up and started the kiss, but – thank goodness – was massively inhibited by the memory of a hideous first date where I tried to initiate a kiss butcompletelymisjudged the situation and he turned away just as I was going in, lips puckered, and I ended up planting one right in the middle of his ear, a place that no-one kisses anyone ever.
And clearly Tom did not want to kiss me because I’m pretty sure I was looking embarrassingly keen, so he would have known that I’d have been very happy for him to.
I undo my boot and rub my leg before going over to put the kettle on. When tormented, drink mint tea. I’m not having coffee now because I do want to sleep tonight.
I turn the tap on viciously hard and water sprays everywhere.
As I’m mopping it up, I tell myself that it does not matter that Tom didn’t kiss me.
