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He pulled down our tables and poured us a glass each. ‘See? I did not get you drunk before the wedding.’
‘I feel as though I need to be drunk now, as it happens,’ I said, trying to restrain myself from gulping the whole thing down in one.
I’d been dreaming of becoming a photographer for years. What if somebody now came along, rejected my application, told me my photos were terrible and shattered my dreams? What would I do then? And going to the open day hadn’t helped. I mean, it had sounded amazing, and their facilities were out of this world, but I’d been massively out of my comfort zone in their high-concept building in King’s Cross which was full of trendy, very young artists looking serious and creative in the foyer. But then, I’d been out of my comfort zone in Paris at first, and now look.
‘Did you go through any of this, with your music?’ I asked him. ‘This insecurity. This constant feeling that you’d been kidding yourself the whole time?’
‘I still go through it,’ he said. ‘Tonight, in Amsterdam, I must convince them that my song is good enough, that my track is worthy of launching someone’s career. And in the back of my mind I am starting to doubt myself, too, but I do not let it take over. I must continue to believe in myself and my work, because if I do not, then who else will do it for me?’
‘I wish I had half your confidence,’ I said.
‘You do have it. It is hidden somewhere, that is all, because of all these different experiences that you have had. But it will be there, you just need to find it.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Throw yourself off the edge,’ he said, making a diving motion with his hand. ‘Take a chance on something.’
Or somebody, I thought. I propped my chin in the heel of my hand, looking out of the window. I remembered how Ellie had said the same thing to me the day I’d met Si, when I’d told her what had happened at the Tube station and had been bemoaning the fact that he probably wouldn’t call.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Ellie had said. ‘He ran after you. He asked you to go for a drink. And then he took your number. Why on earth would he bother with all that if he wasn’t interested, Han?’
She’d flung open the freezer, pulling out a shocking pink tray of ice, each ‘cube’ shaped like a flamingo.
‘Hmmmn,’ I’d replied, ‘the eternal question.’
‘You need to believe in yourself a bit more,’ said Ellie, shoving several heaped teaspoons of sugar into her NutriBullet.
I shrugged.
‘And when he calls, you’ll say yes, right?’ she said.
‘Maybe, but he won’t,’ I said, sliding onto a stool, watching Ellie frenetically chop a bunch of mint.
‘But if he does?’
She flung the mint into the blender, followed by an entire tray full of ice.
I sighed. ‘I don’t know. He’s not really my type.’
Ellie went to the fridge, retrieved a large bottle of white rum and poured at least a third of it into the blender. ‘You mean he’s not monosyllabic, unemployed and completely clueless about how to navigate an actual grown-up relationship?’
I knew she was joking, but there was also the tiniest grain of truth in what she’d said. My track record with men was atrocious. It was as though I purposely sought out guys who had a huge amount of baggage and an aversion to monogamous relationships. There was something about the inevitability of it that felt familiar and safe. Like, it obviously had to end, so it made it less devastating if I knew that from the beginning. Letting myself believe that someone like Si might like me did not feel safe.
I heard my phone buzz. My heart skipped a beat. There was no way it could be him already, was there? I pulled it out of my pocket, sliding my thumb across the screen. I had a text from a number I didn’t recognise.
Hey, it’s Si. Really nice to meet you just now. Wondering if you’re free for drinks next Thursday?
I squinted at the screen to see whether I’d misread something, or misconstrued its meaning.
‘Is it him?’ asked Ellie, her eager face looming at me. ‘It is, isn’t it?’
She started up the blender, sending vibrations rattling through my body. A few seconds later, she took the jug off the base, gave it a shake, and split the icy liquid between the two ruby-red cocktail glasses I’d bought her for her twenty-fifth birthday.
‘All right, calm down. Yes, it’s him,’ I said, unsure, now, what to do. I’d done such a good job of convincing myself that he wouldn’t get in touch that I hadn’t considered what I’d do if he actually did.
‘What did he say?’ asked Ellie. ‘Come on, spill.’
I read the text out to her. It sounded even stranger when I said the words out loud.
