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More silence, then something that sounds strangely like a suppressed snort. “I know who you are, Hawthorne. Why are you calling me on a Saturday? Is the building on fire?”
Now that…thatwould be an emergency worthy of calling my designer at 4 p.m. on a Saturday. Locking myself out? Not so much.
“I’ve locked myself out,” I tell her, wincing slightly. The words sound so ridiculous now that I’ve said them out loud. “And I really need to get my laptop. I can’t wait until Monday. Is there any chance you’re in the area and have your key? I’ll come to you.”
Another round of silence.
“Amber?”
“I heard you.”
And yeah. I don’t think I’m imagining the blatant annoyance in her tone. I can’t blame her, though.
“Sorry—” I begin, ready to take it all back and tell her to go and enjoy her weekend.
“I’m about a 20-minute tube ride from the club,” she says, cutting me off. “Meet me here and I’ll give you my key.”
She relays her address, confirms I know how to get there without getting lost, and then hangs up without saying goodbye.
10
AMBER
In this moment,there’s nobody in the world I love more than Finn Hawthorne. Because it turns out that Mark from the event last weekisyounger than me. Quite a bit younger.
He’s 21.
As in, still at university, currently prepping for his final year exams,21. A baby really. So I’ve decided that I can’t really blame him when it turns out that his idea of a date isNando’s, “chilling” at his place, and then heading to a student bar later tonight for cheap drinks. I’m dressed like he’s about to take me out for a five-star meal — I’m even wearingheels— butno. We’re in aNando’sand he made me order water so we wouldn’t have to pay for the refillable sodas.
What the fuck is my life right now?
So when my phone lights up and it’s Hawthorne on the other end sheepishly telling me he’s locked himself out of the club and needs my key, I don’t feel any anger or irritation toward him for daring to interrupt my weekend.
I only feelgratitude.
“Sorry, Mark,” I say, hoping I’ve injected enough faux sympathy into my tone that he won’t realise how secretly relieved I feel right now. “I’ve got an urgent work thing.”
He frowns. “But it’s Saturday.”
Poor kid. He genuinely looks crushed. “I know, but it can’t be helped. Demanding bosses and all that. I’m sure you know how it is.” Or maybe he doesn’t? Has he ever even had a job?
“I can come with you and hang around,” he says, andgoddamnit, he is quite literally pulling puppy dog eyes on me right now. “And then we can head to the bar after. It’s two for one on cocktails tonight.”
I fight the urge to wince. “No, no. You go and enjoy the rest of your evening. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but maybe he can finally tell that I’m just not into this — convenient getaway excuse or not — because he gives me a sad nod. “I’ll message you?”
“Sure.”
He gives me a stiff hug that I return with just one arm and then walks out. As soon as I can’t see him anymore, I exhale a deep breath and lean against the wall, rocking onto my heels to give my toes some reprieve.
I can’t believe I wore heels toNando’s.
This is all Bailey’s fault. She’s the one who convinced me to give Mark a go.
AMBER
He is 21. I repeat. Baby Face is 21.
