She tapped the fork on the edge of the bowl lightly. It was barely even making a noise. He could almost hear the cogs turning in her head and when she lifted her eyes to his again, the intensity in them shocked him. So often, she flitted her gaze away, but he felt this like she was probing him for something, looking deep down to see whether it was worth her pushing herself to open up. Whether she could trust him, perhaps?
In those quiet seconds, with the golden light illuminating the room and making the green of her eyes glow, he wanted her to find him worth it, with a depth that shocked him. He stared right back and finally she blinked and drew in a breath like she was taking a run-up to jump off a diving board.
‘I don’t know…it’s hard to explain. I think it’s mainly about the effect it ends up having on your life.’ A smile curled at the edge of her mouth and his heart beat a little faster. She was going to do it. She’d seen something in him that said he was worth sharing this with. ‘Have you ever seen that old movieGremlins?’
‘Sure, my sister loves it.’ He folded his arms on the edge of the table, leaning in, genuinely curious to see wherethiswas going.
‘Right, well, imagine the main one, the original erm – what’s it called – Gizmo? He’s just a normal Mogwai. That fluffy little thing is like shyness, bit high maintenance, doesn’t like bright lights, but still something you can have as a temperamental pet and a lot of people will think it’s kind of cute. Then, you accidentally get water on it – an unhealthy level of anxiety, or paranoia, or something – and it multiples into this evil spawn, which runs amok, basically fucking up your life and destroying everything.’
‘So…like shyness on cocaine?’
Lila’s eyebrows raised. ‘I guess that works too.’
‘I don’t take cocaine if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I wasn’t.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re thinking it now though, aren’t you?’
‘No, I swear.’ She laughed a bit. ‘I was actually…I was wondering if Ididstart thinking that, would you care? You talk as though people’s opinions don’t bother you at all. Is that really possible?’
He pushed a hand through his hair, wanting to give her a genuine answer, not just a flippant response, because she truly didn’t seem to be able to understand how you couldnotcare. He remembered her reacting that way back in London in the storeroom too.
‘You know that sometimes I have to be mindful of people’s opinions. We talked about that before?’
She nodded. ‘For this film part you want to get? Your agent wants you to keep your nose clean, right?’ She raised her hand quickly. ‘No pun intended…although is that where that saying comes from?’
‘I…don’t know actually.’ He laughed.
‘Sorry, I digressed. I’m still feeling a bit tipsy. You were saying?’
‘Oh, right. Yeah, everyone has to care about the consequences of their actions I suppose, at some point. But, in general, I don’t care if people are judging me… Idocare about how I make people feel.’
She nodded her head slowly. ‘Of course. That makes sense. That’s what I couldn’t figure out. ’Cause you don’t act mean or anything, and usually that’s what I associate with people who don’t care about what others think.’ She toyed with a piece of pasta in the bowl again, slipping it on and off the fork until the strands split apart. ‘And I don’t want to become a mean person. I just want to get through a day without feeling like I’m constantly on edge.’
‘I don’t think you could be mean, even if you tried.’ She looked up at him, a little shocked and he shifted on his seat, realising that he’d sounded very sure of himself, considering this was – what – only their third or fourth proper conversation? Itwastrue though. He didn’t think she had a mean bone in her body. ‘It sounds tiring.’
‘It is. But it’s all my own doing. I need to figure out a way to just, be normal.’
‘I know people say this all the time, but there really is no such thing as normal.’
‘Okay.Mynormal, then. I’d like to figure out what that even is, and then be content with it.’
‘Figuring out how to be content.’ He nodded and gave her a smile. ‘If you work out how to do that and write a book about it, you’ll make millions.’
‘My life’s mission. Lila Moorcroft, unlocking the secret to inner peace.’ She snorted. ‘I don’t think the Dalai Lama has anything to worry about just yet.’
He laughed and then watched her stirring her pasta again, still not eating. It occurred to him that he would have been quite happy to sit here with her chatting for the rest of the evening. But he was supposed to be on his best behaviour. Not entertaining young women in his villa for hours on end.
He drummed his hands on the table and got up out of the chair. ‘Why don’t you finish eating, have some more water, and, if you’re feeling well enough, I’ll take you back to your apartment.’
‘Oh, okay.’ She started to nod and then shook her head. ‘I mean, no. Don’t worry. I can get myself back home. I was going to take the bus anyway.’
‘Well, let me walk you to the bus stop at least.’Why, Rowan? You had a perfect “out” there.Because it felt like the right thing to do, that was why. ‘And would you text me when you get back, to let me know you got there all right?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ Her smile was a little tentative. Maybe he was crossing a line he shouldn’t. But they exchanged numbers and he told himself that as long as he only used it to make sure she was safe, then the boundaries were very clear.
This PR problem with Gerrard at the moment was throwing him off balance. Like their paths had split off in different directions and he was constantly trying to pull himself back in line with where Gerrard wanted him to go. Having to think about what people might say – rather than worrying about the things that actually mattered – was making something at the very centre of him object, he could feel it chafing. But he was just going to have to get used to that. At least for the summer.
