‘Deal.’ She nodded – but it felt like a bad bargain.
Tom appeared satisfied, though, and picked up his book again.
Tom had known Rachel for a little over four years, and for at least three and a half of them he’d been thinking, with increasing regularity, about kissing her. Last night she’d turned up looking lovelier than ever, and she’d painted her lips with some raspberry-coloured stuff that he’d immediately wished he could taste. It was torturous.
He should have known better than to keep touching her – should have realised that being so close to her all night, hugging her and holding her hand, would make trying to kiss her irresistible in the end.
Now, of course, he felt like a total shit. He was stomping home from Rachel and Anna’s flat, cursing his own idiocy. Agreeing to be Rachel’s fake date in the first place had been stupid – selfish and exploitative, as well as excruciatingly painful. It was just … Some part of him had hoped it might help her see him differently.
Of course, she probablydidsee him differently this morning – just not in the way he’d intended. Most likely, despite her reassurances, she now saw Tom as someone who’d tried to snog her when she’d had a skinful – as if they were fourteen and behind the school bike sheds. As if the #metoo movement hadn’t happened.
Tom hated lies. He hated manipulation and mind games. Yet he’d thought that playing along withthisgame might be to his advantage. He’d kidded himself that he could circumvent the rules.
The trouble was that he’dmeanteverything he was supposed to be faking: every touch, every gesture, every word. And then the kiss …
He’d put his lips on Rachel’s out of wild frustration, mostly with himself. It was as if he wanted to purge himself of the need to do it – as if he thought that kissing her once might fix him; render him disinclined to do it ever again.
It hadn’t worked, of course, but the way she’d reacted was devastating. Tom cringed again as he thought of Rachel stepping forward, trying to reach for him a second time. It had been so intense, sodramatic– as if she was determined to do this Hollywood-style, in the hope that her ex was watching.
That hurt, and it grossed Tom out a little. It hinted that she had stronger feelings for Jack Harper than he’d ever have believed possible – feelings that were inspiring behaviour he’d never thought Rachel was capable of. Surely she was smarter than this?Betterthan this?
Tom shook his head at himself as he marched past the Hope. He had no business being self-righteous. Yes, this whole thing was grim, but it was his own fault he’d got mixed up in it. That was undeniable.
How many times might he have justtoldRachel that he liked her as more than a friend? How many opportunities to switch things up – to try to flirt a little more obviously with her – had he squandered?
Too many – especially since the exhibition had thrown them together.
Suddenly, Tom’s reasons for staying silent seemed thin and insubstantial: weak, childish and pathetic. It wouldn’t have taken a declaration of undying love to work out whether Rachel was interested in him. Maybe just the honest offer of a date would have been enough.
And if she’d said no? Well, they’d have got over it. It might have taken a few weeks – maybe even a few months. But they were good enough friends, Tom now realised, that a mismatch of romantic feeling wouldn’t have been the disaster he’d imagined.
If he’d been a little braver, they wouldn’t have ended up here – with him feeling like a cad, and Rachel pretending to fancy him for the sake of snaring some total twat from her uni days.
Tom realised he was running. He was still in his jeans, and pounding the pavement in these trainers would probably fuck his knees … But he felt better for it. He wasn’t slowing down, and he wasn’t going home.
Sprinting until his lungs were screaming – battering his body until he couldn’t think about anything apart from breathing – was exactly what he needed.
He kept going: past the flat, through Priory Park and up to Alexandra Palace.
When he finally collapsed on a grass verge, he was exhausted – and still madder with himself than he’d ever been before.
June
New Year’sOngoing resolutions
1. Consider exercise an act with actual benefits – both mental and physical – not merely grim punishment for pizzas consumed.Have a proper go atContinue letting Greg drag me to yoga.provided he refrains from making snide comments re Jack/me and Jack.Give up trying to control subject matter discussed over dinner.
2.Also re-downloadComplete Couch to 5K running app andactually do the programme.Keep running at least twice per week –alwaysbeing careful not to perv on anyone improper.
3. Apply for promotion at work at first chance. Move to bigger account and try to get pay rise. Avoid, if possible, further projects concerning dog biscuits, disinfectant, high-quality printer ink cartridges, ‘miracle’ grass seed, organic vegetables, etc.
3a. Try to hang on to job (and temper) despitepresence of evil ex-boyfriendhideousnesscontrol-freakery of certain clients.
3b. Ignore everyone who keeps banging on about how fitheJack is.
3c. Ignore how fit he is.
3d. Ignore the fact hekeeps trying to be friendly/nice/possibly quite flirtatiousis openly trying to shag me.
