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Lloyd looks – for once – guilty. ‘You’re not here this late just because of me, are you? I didn’t think my notes werethatdrastic.’
‘It’s not all about you,’ I say, surprised when it comes out more like a joke, and even more surprised when he smiles in a soft, unguarded way that makes me smile back. ‘It turns out I’m too much of a people-pleaser and can’t manage my workload as efficiently as I thought I could.AndI’m too proud to tell my manager I’ve taken too much on.’
‘Ah,’ he says gently. ‘That checks.’
‘What about you? I didn’t realize you had to work overtime to terrorize staff with feedback nobody asked you for. I thought that was just a natural talent.’
Lloyd gives me a withering look, but he’s still smiling. ‘I had some things to catch up on. Lost track of time.’
‘Wow.Wow. You realize how super vague that sounds, right?’
‘You don’t say?’ Lloyd chuckles as he collects the milk for me. He stays crouched in front of the fridge before pulling out a plate with a quarter of a chocolate cake on. The letters ‘Ha’ and ‘Bir’ are written on it in pale cream icing. My stomach growls at the sight of it.‘Think anybody’s going to miss this come Monday morning?’
‘I hope not.’
As I make the tea, Lloyd unwraps the clingfilm covering the plate of cake and finds two forks. I expect us to go back to his sofa, but he heads for one of the tall tables in the kitchen instead. I take a fork and dig in unceremoniously, scoffing down mouthfuls of slightly dry fudge cake like it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever tasted. And after a self-imposed sixteen-hour work day, it kind of is.
‘Big plans for the weekend?’ I ask him, defaulting to the usual ‘Friday’ office small talk.
He shrugs, humming noncommittally. ‘How about you? Hopefully you’re not going to be chained to your desk all weekend.’
‘No. A bunch of us were going to order some pizzas and watch a movie tomorrow night. Burnley and Izzy organized it. I’ll have plenty of time to catch up on the sleep I’m missing tonight,’ I joke, but even I can hear how exhausted I sound. I try – and fail – to stifle a yawn.
‘You know, you can just tell your boss you need extra time to work on things. Or say “no” when they ask you to do something,’ Lloyd says. There’s more gravity to the conversation now; it prickles along my skin and sits leaden in my stomach.
‘Yes,thank you, I am aware.’
‘Oh, so you’re just incapable of doing so.’
I want to bite back, but he’s not wrong. I shrug instead, conceding the point.
‘Can I ask you something?’
The cute guy sat across from me, wearing glasses and rumpled clothes, carefully picking up a large scoop of buttercream icing on his fork, meets my eyes for a moment. The harsh lights of the office are softened somehow by the darkness that pours in from the large window behind him. And just like that, in five words, I’m back to having a strange and unexpected and beautiful night cloaked in the midnight magic of the city with a boy who asks me,Tell me something true.
I’m still not sure which version of Lloyd Fletcher is true.
I tell him, ‘I get the feeling you will anyway, so sure. Go ahead.’
‘It’s just … The way you talked about this internship … And now, overworking yourself like this … I’ve just gotta wonder – why?’
‘Why? What do you mean,why?’
‘You know. Why it’s so important to you. Why you act like it’s the be-all, end-all. Like everything is hingeing on this and if you don’t kill yourself for it now, it’s not going to be worth it. I know you’re thekind of person to “work hard, play later”, but … I mean, you don’t think it’s a little extreme, burning yourself out for a job you’ll be leaving behind in another two months?’
‘Okay well,one, I’m not burning myself out.’ Yet. Not quite. Please ask again later. ‘Andtwo, you know what a big deal this is. If it goes well … An internship like this could change my whole future. It could guarantee me a job when I graduate, or at least improve my chances of getting a really good one somewhere else.’
‘What does that even mean, “a good job”?’
‘Well. It’s … You know.’
Lloyd fixes me with a look as if to say no, he doesn’t know – but really it says that hedoesknow, he just wants to make me say it. There’s an edge to it, and no hint of a smile on his face anymore. The light tone of conversation as we considered if the leftover birthday cake would be missed is suddenly long gone.
A good job ismoney, but not the kind that buys nice handbags or shoes with red soles like Mum would wear. The kind that sits there for a rainy day, just in case, that means not having to worry. The kind that means I don’t have to worry if buying that hideously over-priced textbook means I’ll be living on baked potatoes and toast for the next month. The kind thatmeans opportunities, being able to choose my future. Possibilities.
It’s security, the kind I have to work towards now so that later, when I have my own family, I won’t feel the need to walk out on them in search of somethingbetter, the way Mum did.
Instead of giving Lloyd the answer he thinks he already knows, I say, ‘Maybe to you, it’s only three months, so that means it’s not worth the effort. But to me, this isonlythree months – and if I use that time right, it might change the next thirty years of my life. I don’t want to waste it.’
