Page 47 of Little Miss Fortune

‘Hey, Fuko, have you double-checked with everyone on the contact sheet?’ Fawzia asks when she is finished.

‘Yes. Most of them preferred the new location.’

‘Even Garry from the GSV?’

Huh? Who?

‘Um...’

‘There is a second tab on the sheet, the one that says Media?’

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘We’ve done it,’ Toby hums behind me, washing his coffee mug. It has his face on it.

His stare is blank as he wipes his hand on a paper towel.

‘Did... did we?’

‘Hey, I’m not going to ask any questions, if it’s done, it’s done. Alhamdulillah.’ Fawzia washes her plastic Tupperware and slides her earphones under her pink hijab. A muffled K-pop song spills out as she leaves the kitchen.

‘Fuko, can—’

‘Thank you for doing this,’ I cut in before he can say anything else. My tone is harsh, and I can feel my eyebrows furrow; it doesn’t sound or look like I am thankful at all. ‘I need to go back and confirm that deliveries will be ready for the big day.’

I don’t wash my container. It’s going to be so gross when I come back home.

This is such bull. Why is this happening? Why am I so upset by him? Why does him helping me with such a small and unimportant thing make my chest so tight?

I sit down on the toilet. Piss. Wipe. Blood.

Oh. That’s why. I have no feelings for him. I am not a bad friend. I am not going to hell. I was just close to lady crimson. Like Ginger in Ginger Snaps, with their werewolf-period analogy, nature just got over me. It’s nothing. I feel nothing.

I walk out of the toilet with a bit more pep in my step. A whistle would have swung off my lips in an energetic foxtrot; were I able to whistle, that is.

Toby is back at his desk, the one that I usually sit next to. He looks up with intense sadness in his eyes whilst his face is unwavering. He returns his gaze to the blue light of his monitor, his glasses now hiding him away with the reflection of e-mails and spreadsheets.

This ache that is making the rounds of my body—nothing but hormones. That’s the only explanation I can think of. I know nothing of this man. Yes, he is handsome and funny, but so is every other man out there. We might have a little in common; I also have a lot in common with Sue from the reception downstairs. When I say good morning, she says good morning. When I say it’s a bit chilly out there, she says, yeah, it’s a bit chilly out there.

Hmm. Has Sue ever said anything to me that wasn’t repeating what I just said to her?

Never mind that. Never mind Sue. Toby Lewis is nothing to me.

You’ve never said my name before.

Oh my fucking god, shut this thought-train down right this second!

I slam my head into my hands with a bit too much force, a familiar aroma of the most magnificent perfume pats me on the shoulder from the corridor. Adzo is by the printer, staring at me through the glass door. The printer creaks and squeaks as she slowly turns away from me, her concern never dissipating. We are so having a talk later. I can feel it.

My phone lights up.

Smelly sibling: Can we go Westfields? I need some black stilettos for castings.

Hannah is doing some modelling on the side. I think she is hoping to do London Fashion Week before she is off to uni.

I sigh. There is only one thing worse than shopping, and he is sitting in this office in his horn-rimmed glasses.

FU-chan: Fine.