“That’s slightly manipulative.”
“That’s strategic,” I correct.
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now.
“This was your elaborate football-manager way of engineering a conversation.”
“I prefer to think of it as creating favourable conditions.”
“That sounds even worse.”
We sit in the small silence that follows. Not awkward. Just… aware.
“Was this… your way of trying to seduce me?” Ava breaks the silence.
She looks like she regrets the sentence halfway through saying it.
“No.”
Her eyes flick back up.
“No?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I wanted to get to know you. Without making it feel like it had to be anything more than that.”
She studies me for a second.
“As a friend?” she asks.
That question does things to my head I don’t show on my face.
Because the truth is, very little about what I’ve thought about her has been particularly in the friend zone.
I’ve thought about her mouth more than once. About the way she blushes when she says something bold and then immediately looks like she wants to hide. About how small shefelt when I picked her up on the pitch. About what it might feel like if I actually kissed her instead of stopping myself.
None of that falls into thefriendscategory.
I take a sip from my espresso cup instead of answering too fast.
“I thought we’d start there,” I say eventually. “And see where it leads.”
She nods slowly.
“I didn’t even know if you were with someone,” I add. “Or married. Or very happily single with absolutely no interest in complicating your life.”
“Complicating my life how?” she asks.
I give her a small look. “With a man with a demanding job and a five-year-old who thinks dinosaurs are the best thing since sliced bread.”
That gets a proper laugh. “That is a very honest warning label.”
“I believe in transparency.”
“And what was your conclusion?” she asks tentatively.
“That I didn’t know enough to assume anything.” It’s true. Did I try to research her a bit? I mean… yes. Of course. But I wasn’t surprised I didn’t find a single social media account.
“That’s unusually respectful.”
