Three Way (8 page)

‘And I need to be able to trust you.’

‘You can trust me,’ I say. She stares at me, searching my face for untruth.

‘Hmm,’ she says, smiling, ‘we shall see.’

The evening moves onwards and before I know it, it’s chucking out time. Everyone stands outside, saying goodbye to one another and working out who can share cabs with who. Mark and one of the other girls climb into a cab together. James has already left with two other guys. I’d tell you their names but I can’t remember.

‘Lauren, you coming with us?’ Mark asks, one leg inside the cab, the other outside.

‘Yep, hang on two secs,’ Lauren says, before turning to me. ‘Well, that was nice.’

‘Yeah. Thanks for inviting me along.’

‘Anytime. We should do it again sometime,’ I say. She smiles.

‘We should.’

‘So, yeah. Bye.’

‘Bye,’ she replies. We stand awkwardly. Am I supposed to make a move? In front of Mark and everyone? I’m unsure, and in that moment of indecision she turns and walks over to the cab. She gets inside and slams the door. They drive off, I wave as they go. Damn.

On the way up to the flat, I spot Tristan’s hall light on. A familiar and banned smell wafts from his apartment. I turn the key in the lock slowly. I’m aware it’s past one in the morning and I’m keen not to wake anyone up. I open the door to a dark hallway. Carefully, I close the door and peek inside the living room. Ashley is lying on the sofa, asleep. Her light is still on, her God book draped across her chest. I go to leave.

‘How was your date?’ she asks, her eyes still closed.

‘Good,’ I whisper, ‘get some sleep.’

‘Did you have a nice time?’ she asks. It sounds like a loaded question.

‘Yes, thanks. I’ll see you in the morning,’ I reply.

‘You don’t have to tiptoe around me.’ She opens her eyes and looks at me.

‘I had a nice time,’ I say.

‘I’m glad,’ Ashley says.

‘Nothing happened,’ I start to say, then stop myself, suddenly realising I don’t need to justify myself.

‘Then, when you see her again, make sure it does,’ she says with a cheeky smile. I don’t know why she says it like that but somewhere inside it feels uncomfortable. I chuckle, covering as best I can. I try to form a sentence in my mind. ‘Night,’ she says. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

‘Night,’ I reply and walk out. I get to my bedroom and close the door, throwing my coat on the bed. I try to make sense of the evening. Lauren is definitely interested. She made all the moves which is strange because I’m normally on my knees when a girl finally gives me the green light. I don’t think I’ve ever had it the other way round, apart from Ashley, of course. But then she’s not like other girls. Even if she is wounded at the moment, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before she gets her mojo back. I hope so anyway.

As I replay the evening in my head, the fear begins. I start to wonder what a girl like Lauren could possibly see in me? Gorgeous, successful, on top of her game, what is it that I bring to the table? Then it hits me, my job. She’s a high flying trader type and it doesn’t do her any harm to be on the arm of someone that could potentially further her career/beef up her profile. She did ask me a lot about my job. But I guess they all did, and what better way is there to break the ice? Mark seems like a cool bloke and although he’s a little arrogant, I could see us being friends. I guess if I do end up going out with Lauren, that might be a possibility. James is still a twat, hope I don’t see too much of him. I undress and get into bed, turning out the light. Memories whip around my head, my mind focusing on the smallest of details. Lauren’s blonde hair. Mark’s cool clothes. Ashley.

‘The next station is Waterloo,’ the computer voice on the Northern Line says. I only hear this in a very distant way. The message swims around my head. I’m asleep. I had so little sleep last night, I nodded off almost as soon as I got on at Clapham Common. Now, as consciousness returns, my neck feels a little stiff. I open my eyes and quickly realise that my head is resting on the shoulder of the person sitting next to me. Ah. Problem. I carefully try to raise my head but it’s then I note that said person has their head rested on top of mine, effectively trapping me in place. Awkward. How exactly to play this? As I ponder on how to extricate myself the stations zip past and before I know it, we’re approaching Goodge Street. Nothing for it but to move my head more forcibly. The person next to me, realising what’s happening, is off me in a flash. I sit up and rub my neck. I see who’s shoulder I’ve been resting on. It’s a man of around sixty and I’m unsure if he has a permanent residence. The clues are:

1) He smells.

2) He needs a shave.

3) His fly zip is undone or jammed. I can’t say which and I’m not going to study it further.

4) Between his legs he has a ‘Bag for Life,’ which does indeed look like he’s had since he was born.

I smile, embarrassed.

‘Sorry,’ I start to say, immediately regretting engaging in conversation.

‘What yer sorry for?’ he replies.

‘Just…you know, leaning on your shoulder.’

‘Hmm. Give me money and I’ll forget it ever happened,’ he says, hand outstretched. The doors open, the computerised voice stating,

‘This is Goodge Street.’ I jump up, fumbling in my pockets. I pull out the first thing that comes out, which happens to be a ten pound note. Damnit. He stares at it. I have no time. I shove it into his hand and bolt for the doors as they ring. I make it just in time. The train pulls away, I spot the man staring at the ten pound note then over to me. He gives me a smile, followed by a thumbs up as the train disappears into the tunnel. Shit. That was my lunch money. How the hell did that happen? Who falls asleep on the nearest hobo? Don’t answer that.

By the time I get to work, I’ve tried and failed to forget my monetary loss. How could I be so…? Calm Ollie, just let it go. I swipe my ID card and wander into the newsroom. Paul sits on the newsdesk, feet up on the table, Daily Telegraph in his hands. Julie is staring intensely at her computer, a frown on her face.

‘Ah morning Ollie. There’s nothing for you at the mo, so if you want to get some breakfast-,’ he says.

‘What happened to you?’ Julie asks. I walk around to her side of the desk and pull up a chair next to her.

‘Late night,’ I reply.

‘Oh yeah, with a girl?’ she asks, smiling.

‘Well, yeah I guess it was,’ I reply.

‘Ooo, tell me. Was it that girl you interviewed?’ she asks. I glance at Paul, who’s not listening. I lower my voice, just in case.

‘Yeah.’

‘How’d it go?’

‘Good, I think. I mean, they’re bankers so…spawn of the devil and all that but, she’s great. I still can’t get my head round the fact she called me.’

‘Why? Girls ask boys out sometimes.’

‘Do they?’

‘Well sometimes they do. So what’s she like? Did you…?’

‘I’m not going to tell you anything but no we didn’t. It was quite difficult to talk with everyone else there. She’s a bit older than me-’

‘How old, forty?’

‘No, maybe thirty?’

‘That’s not old.’

‘I didn’t say it was, I said she was older than me.’

‘Yeah by like a couple of years, that’s nothing. I went out with a guy once who was forty-five.’

‘Well, that’s not that old.’

‘It is when you’re nineteen.’

‘Ah yes, okay.’

‘Cool, so you seeing her again?’

‘I dunno. I guess.’

‘Ollie, you can’t trundle through life hoping good things will just happen. You have to take the initiative and make them happen.’

‘I only went out with her yesterday.’

‘She’ll expect to hear from you today. Maybe send her an email.’

‘You think? Doesn’t that look needy and desperate?’

‘Sure it does but you are needy and desperate, no point trying to hide it,’ she says, chuckling. I nod and flick my eyebrows.

‘Thanks for the advice.’

‘No worries. You’re not doing anything now, why don’t you log in and send her something?’

‘Okay but if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.’

‘Why would it go wrong? It’s an email.’ Hmm, I guess it couldn’t hurt.

‘How’s Josh?’ I ask.

‘You don’t care about Josh.’

‘Yes I do, come on.’

‘I think he’s going to ask me to marry him but keep it to yourself, okay?’

‘Wow, that’s amazing.’

‘Amazing someone would want to marry me?’ she asks, blinking in that slightly strange way she does.

‘No, amazing you’re going to get married. I mean, you’re still quite young.’

‘Shh,’ she says, looking around. ‘I don’t know anything for sure, just feels like he might.’

‘I’ll tell no one,’ I say.

‘Go write your email.’

I do as I’m told and try to compose something that doesn’t make me sound like a bellend, dick, prick, schmuck, retard or slimeball. I admit, it’s harder than it sounds. After forty-five minutes of fannying around, this is what I come up with:

‘Hi Lauren, it’s Ollie.

Just a quick email to say how much I enjoyed last night. Hope you got home okay and if you’re up for it, maybe we could meet up again sometime soon. I’m around on Friday if that works, or I guess Saturday or Sunday if that’s better. Seem to remember you said you might be busy but basically if you’re around anytime in the next month then I’m sure I can work around it. Hopefully see you soon,

Love always, Ollie.’

There, I think that should do it. Okay, it’s not perfect but hey, it’s a first draft. My mind suddenly flashes an image of Svetla and my gut drops to the floor. I close my eyes. Come on Ollie. First stage of moving on. What harm can it do? Just an email, right? Julie has been glancing at me as I write and edit. Her face conveys a certain degree of concern but I’m sure her mind will be put at ease when she reads this. I send the draft to her.

‘I’ve sent you something, let me know what you think,’ I say, looking over to Julie.

‘Haven’t got anything,’ she says. I stand and walk around the desk, looking over her shoulder to Outlook. She’s telling the truth, no email has appeared. Hmm.

‘Patience. Probably just TBN’s shit servers,’ I say, concern apparent in my voice.

‘Still nothing,’ she says. ‘You sure you sent it to my work email?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ I reply. That’s a lie. A worried feeling is now permeating through me. I go back to my computer and click ‘Sent Items.’ The email at the top has the correct Heading but my heart skips a beat when I realise I’ve sent it straight to Lauren. How? Oh God no.

‘Oh God no,’ I say out loud. Julie is standing behind me in a second.

‘What? You didn’t send it to her, did you?’

‘I might have,’ I reply. Julie bursts out laughing.

‘What did you write?’ she asks. I double click the email and she reads it. I hear a giggle, then a snort. ‘Oh Ollie.’

‘What? Is it bad?’

‘No, it’s not bad. It’s probably the most terrifying email I’ve ever read.’

‘No. Stop fucking with me.’

‘I’m serious. If a boy sent me that, I’d be on to technical support to retain it for evidence.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘…basically if you’re around any time this month. And you’ve even signed off with ‘love always’…Ollie,’ she can’t stop laughing.

‘This is not making me feel better.’

‘What are you two doing?’ Paul asks from behind his paper.

‘Ollie’s just sent a girl a stalker email,’ Julie says.

‘Great, let’s have a read,’ Paul says, standing up and walking around. I click back to the news program to cover it up.

‘No. Come on,’ I say.

‘Seriously, I want to read it,’ Paul says.

‘No,’ I reply, frowning. Paul stares at me and somehow I find myself saying, ‘alright fine.’ I click back to the email. Paul reads, then ever so slowly, a smile forms on his face.