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‘It would,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll have to come over and observe when I’m in need of character inspiration.’
I laughed, pushing the strangely alluring thought of him coming into my flat to the back of my mind.
Jack suddenly pounced on something in the drawer and brandished a screwdriver at me dramatically. ‘I knew it was in there somewhere,’ he said.
My eye caught a programme for Romeo and Juliet at the National Theatre on the mantelpiece.
‘Were you in that?’ I asked him, going over.
He nodded, looking pleased I’d noticed. ‘Yeah,’ he said, picking it up. ‘I was Benvolio,’ he added, flicking wistfully through the glossy pages. ‘Look, here’s a picture, the scene where I tell Romeo to run away or he’ll be put to death.’
I looked over his shoulder at the photo. He looked like a completely different person in the picture. He was drenched with sweat, bare chested and with much longer hair pulled back in a small bun. His face was contorted with anger, an expression I couldn’t imagine him doing in real life.
‘Do you like going to the theatre?’ he asked me.
‘Sure,’ I said. In theory, although I rarely went. ‘I’m not massively keen on musicals though.’ And then I looked around the room, panicked that he was actually a musical theatre aficionado and I’d hugely insulted him. Mind you, there were no copies of the Les Mis soundtrack that I could see; no Starlight Express memorabilia.
‘I’m not a big fan, either,’ he said.
I smiled, relieved. ‘Oh good.’
‘I did an audition the other day and they made me sing for the first time in ages,’ he said, grimacing.
‘You don’t like singing?’
‘I mean, it’s not my favourite thing,’ he replied. ‘You?’
‘God, no. Not even in the shower.’
‘You should let loose in the shower,’ he said. ‘I do.’
I had a flashback to seeing him standing on his doorstep half-naked and laughed to hide my embarrassment. Thankfully he seemed keen to crack on with the lift job and was heading towards the door. I followed him out of the room and back into the hallway, grabbing my shoes on the way.
‘So, yeah,’ I said, pulling at the handle of the lift. ‘It’s not budging at all, see?’
‘Let’s have a look,’ he said, leaning in closer so that our cheeks were almost touching. I was very aware of him being inches away from me, and of trying to act as though this felt completely normal. I was breathing so hard that I could see my chest rising and falling in my peripheral vision.
Jack started fiddling with the hinge, twisting a bolt with his screwdriver, one at the top and one at the bottom. When he tried the door, it slid effortlessly open and did the same when it closed.
‘There we go!’ he said, looking pleased with himself.
I took a step back and admired his handiwork.
‘You’re good at fixing things, aren’t you?’ I said.
He put his tools in his back pocket. ‘Apparently so. It’s one of those things I didn’t know I could do until I was forced to try.’
‘I guess the same could be said for most things,’ I replied, unlocking my door and dragging my shopping into my hallway. ‘Anyway. I’ve got that interview tomorrow, so …’
He looked at me through his too-long, floppy fringe. ‘Are you nervous?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Partly because I’m not sure if I even want the job.’
He looked confused. ‘I thought you said it was the same sort of thing but a step up?’
‘Yeah, it is,’ I said. ‘I’m just a bit sick of the industry I’m in. It’s not really me.’
‘What do you reckon is “you”, then?’
