AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Annalise –’
He starts towards me, one hand outstretched.
And the moment’s gone when a small group of people walk into the kitchen, mid-conversation and chattering animatedly. They toss us friendly smiles and one says, ‘Hi, Lloyd,’ which is when I realize he’s not just lowered his hand but taken an extra step back. The tension clogging the air has cleared, the electricity long gone, making me wonder if it was ever there at all if these people are so completely oblivious to it.
Lloyd collects his things as I gather the last fractures of hope that we might be able to rekindle last Friday night somehow, and we fall into step as we leave the kitchen.
He clears his throat. ‘So, um, any plans for the weekend?’
He’s not asking me if I have plans because he wants to ask me out. This, I’ve learned, is just office small talk; that must be the eighteenth time I’ve been asked this question today by someone who doesn’t really care about the answer but is being polite.
So I give him the same answer I’ve given anybody else who’s asked: ‘A bunch of us are going out tonight,a bit of a catch-up on our first week. Celebratory or conciliatory drinks, as required.’
‘Oh, right. Of course.’ We come to a stop near the lifts and Lloyd hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck, hand shifting up to tousle his hair. A shiver runs down my spine, remembering how it felt when that was my hand at the nape of his neck, his silk-soft curls between my fingers.
‘See you around,’ I tell him, like I did last Friday night, but this time it’s less sorry, less hopeful, and comes out sounding bitter –brittle.
Something flickers across his face, but only for a moment, making me wonder if I imagined that too. I turn to leave, but not before I see the smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
‘Yeah. See you around.’
At the pub after work that evening, the drinks don’t flow as quickly as they did last week, which is a relief. Our table is crowded, noisy, with everybody talking over each other and calling down the table to one another, full of good food and the adrenaline of our first week.
Despite sharing apartments in the same building, commuting together and passing one another in the office, this is the first chance we’ve all really had to catch up as a group since the icebreaker night.
And just like then, we all work a little too hard to sell ourselves: everyone swaps details of our roles and responsibilities, competing over whose sounds the most impressive. I’m no exception: I get swept up in the unspoken challenge, just like everyone else.
I learn that Dylan, who offered me his wallet-condoms last week and is studying towards anEngineering degree, is working in Research and Development, and Tasha and a couple of others have been given project management roles, so I’ll probably work with them a bit, which is … nice. At least it’ll be easier to reach out to other teams when I can use the other interns as a point of contact – even if that point of contact is Tasha. She reminds me a little too much of the girls from my uni halls – sharp and lofty, with a cruel edge you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.
The mood relaxes as we bond over the highs and lows of our weeks. We tease Elaine about getting locked out of her computer first thing on Tuesday and having to do a walk of shame to the IT helpdesk to get them to reset it for her, and sympathize with Freya who spilled coffee on Topher Fletcher’s PA when she went to introduce herself.
Nobody else ran into a boy they kissed and never thought they’d see again, though.
If anybody notices I’m a bit too loud and talk too fast when they ask about my team and my week, they don’t call me out on it. And if they notice my glass of wine after dinner goes down a bit too easily, they let that slide, too.
Somewhere around nine o’clock, a few of us volunteer to get the next round in, collecting drinks orders. I volunteer to get one for my new flatmatesElaine and Louis; this, I’ve learned, is what you do when you want to be part of the group and endear people to you.
I catch up with the others at the bar just in time to overhear Monty, the annoying ‘rah’ guy, saying, ‘She’s fit, but seems like a right stuck-up cow.’
‘Who’s that?’ I ask, butting in. I wonder if he’s talking about Tasha, then scold myself. I hardly know her; I should at leasttryto give her a chance before judging her as a stuck-up cow.
‘Nadja,’ Burnley explains for me, laughing. ‘Monty’s in her team.’
‘I don’t know if you heard earlier but I’ll be working on contracts and proposals,’ he tells me, with all the pomp and authority as if he’d just declared he was ending world hunger, and as if he hadn’t already announced it loud enough for the whole pub to hear.
‘Sounds great,’ I reply. ‘I thought she seemed nice though. Nadja. You know, quite cool. I bet she’d be really interesting to work with.’
Monty rolls his eyes. He’s a lanky guy with coiffed, dark brown hair and a smarmy smirk that seems to be a near-permanent feature on his face. He’d be quite good-looking, if not for his haughty resting-face. ‘Don’t tell me – next, you’re gonna ask if I’d call her stuck-up if she was a man.’
‘Next,’ Burnley interrupts, voice dry, ‘I’m gonna ask if you really want to bethatguy. Don’t be a dick, Monty.’
He shrugs, holding up his hands. ‘Alright, chill out. It was just a joke. It’s not just me, you know – the rest of the team said she’s tough. Ruthless. Apparently, she made some intern last yearcry. Can you believe it?’
‘Better make sure you bring your Kleenex, then,’ I say. Monty’s cheeks colour, but Burley snort-laughs so hard he chokes, coughing, which sends me into a peal of giggles too.
‘Ah, chill out, Monty,’ Burnley tells him once he’s caught his breath. He reaches up to clasp Monty’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shake. ‘It was just a joke.’
Somewhere to my left, Dylan shouts, ‘Hey! You made it! Guys – guys,’ he says, grabbing for us. His other hand is on someone’s arm, pulling them through the cluster of people queuing behind us for drinks.
