If I were a different kind of person – the kind that believed in fate, or destiny, or the universe, or anything besides myself – I might read him being here as a sign. Like there was some higher power trying to fling this boy and his great hair in my path.
I wasn’t that person, though, so it just made me curious. What was the boy from the bar doing here?
He had chosen a seat about two thirds of the way back. There were a cluster of people sitting in the middle of the row, all talking to each other, but he was one seat from the end, by himself, slightly slumped down, satchel on the chair beside him.
Maybe he was new. Like me. That was the seat I would have chosen too – not too close to the front (lest you look like a kiss-ass), not too close to the back (lest you look like a troublemaker), but more committal, somehow, than sitting perfectly in the middle. More sensible, too, than trying to attach yourself to an established group – better to hang back and take the lay of the land before you made any moves.
He rifled through his satchel. I expected him to take out his phone, but instead, he pulled out a half-crushed plastic water bottle. It was mostly empty, but he downed the last of it, then exhaled and rubbed his temple.
I thought for a few moments.
Then I filled two cups at the water cooler and crossed the room. ‘How’s your head?’ I asked, offering him one.
He looked up at me. ‘What?’
It was a simple, blunt, almost brusque response.
I didn’t mind that. I preferred it, in fact. It saved time when people got to the point.
The fact he didn’t recognise me stung, though. ‘I was at the same bar as you last night. I was sitting in the corner, having a quiet drink, minding my own business, and you stumbled by on your way to the bathroom.’
It was the director’s cut of the story. I didn’t need to mention that I’d been watching him long beforehand, nursing my glass of wine while I waited for the perpetually late Thuong, pretending to the world that I was scrolling through my phone – andpretending to myself that I had questions about his haircare regimen.
‘Did I?’ the boy from the bar asked blearily.
I offered him the water again. This time, he took it. ‘Thank you.’ His voice was croaky, and his eyes were bloodshot, the right one twitching just slightly.
It would be a mistake to take him not remembering me personally. He was clearly painfully hungover.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’tremindhim. ‘You stopped on your way back. Stared at me for three full seconds without blinking. Then you put your hand on the table, said, “I love your lipstick,” and walked away.’
I watched him process the information.
I’d watched him do that last night too. One of his friends had been telling a story, and others at the table had jumped in right away, but he’d taken a moment before responding. Not a long moment, but long enough to make it clear that he actually listened when people talked.
His hair might have been the thing I’d noticed first, but the listening: that was why I’d kept watching.
‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t make a habit of accosting women in public. I was pretty drunk last night – it was my birthday, my mates kept buying rounds – but that’s no excuse.’
‘Happy birthday,’ I said. ‘How old?’
‘Twenty-two.’
Same as me. He was probably straight out of university too. Maybe we’d even been at some of the same media careers information sessions.
Probably not, though. I would have remembered a boy with such pullable hair.
‘I really am sorry,’ he said. ‘I promise it won’t happen again. If you’re worried about shipping off to an island for three months with someone who’s going to follow you around and harass you, please don’t be.’
‘I’m not worried.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, but I’m still sorry.’
‘It was helpful, actually.’ I looked him right in the eye. ‘I’m trying out a new shade, and I needed an honest opinion on whether or not it works. My friend told me it did, but she also hasn’t told me she’s been sleeping with my brother for three months, so I’m not sure how much I trust her.’
Another moment. Another pause for thought.
Then the boy from the bar laughed.
