‘Not sure about staying till the sun rises, but I’m loving the glowsticks, aren’t you, Al? Ace!’ Jamie breaks eye contact before I do, messing around picking up an imaginary screw off the floor. Soph bashes on, not noticing the hitch. ‘Right, see you Sunday then, Alice will text you the time and address. She owes you for doing this anyway, I reckon a burger and a beer is a good trade-off!’
‘Can’t say no to an offer like that,’ Jamie says. I must have imagined that brief look; he could have been talking about any gig where the girls had purple hair and we all drank beer. I’m being daft. This isn’t about Reading. He doesn’t remember. Or he doesn’t remember the bit that features me. ‘But Alice hasn’t got my number.’
‘Well here you go.’ Sophie chants out my phone number. ‘You can message her, then she will!’ And high-fives him.
‘Do I need to bring anything?’
‘Just your gorgeous self,’ says Sophie.
‘Sorry,’ I mouth at him.
He’s not even out of the front door when my phone pings.
See you Sunday, look forward to it! J x
‘Oh my God, this is so exciting!’ Soph reads it over my shoulder. ‘I knew that sticky note that fell out of your pocket was important!’
‘Shush!’ I shove my mobile out of sight. ‘That’s rubbish.’ She doesn’t know how forgettable he finds me. How he forgot a kiss, how he didn’t even remember me when we were crushed together in a corridor. ‘You can’t just go inviting random people to our barbecue though, it’s weird. What will Mum say?’
She shrugs. ‘It’s cool, and he’s not random, and it’s not weird, you owed him for doing this.’ She points to the lock.
She does have a point. But I still feel uneasy, so I cover it up by changing tack. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you worked on a Monday evening?’
‘They let me go.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Apparently,’ this is said in a very sarcastic tone which tells me it actually hurts more than she wants to let on, ‘it’s not company policy to invite people in off the street and give them the mis-shapes for free.’
I sit down next to her and give her a quick hug. This is what she’s come for, even though she’s not into lengthy signs of affection. ‘Is there such a thing as mis-shaped burgers?’
‘Well no, not unless somebody has accidentally squished them as they put them on the tray.’ She grins. ‘The manager was a tosser, what can I say? He’s got nasal hair and said I shouldn’t let dogs in!’ I’m not sure about the connection here. ‘Eurghh. Anyway, the pizza place said I can do some deliveries for them.’
‘You? Deliver? You’ve not got a car.’
She chuckles. ‘They’ve got a scooter! It’s ace, I bet I can make it do wheelies!’
I shake my head. They’re definitely going to have mis-shapen pizzas if they let Sophie deliver them.
‘Anyway, stop changing the subject.’ She lies back on the bed, propped up on one elbow as though she’s settled in for a while. ‘Give me the goss! Are you going to shag him?’
I don’t answer.
She sits bolt upright. ‘Have you already shagged him?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ I say it firmly, but the regret claws at my stomach.
‘I would!’
Yeah, so would I, Soph. So would I, if he had the slightest interest in me. Instead, the bloody man has fallen for my Blue-Footed Booby bird.
I wait until she has gone, then message Jamie back. Thanks for doing the lock, I owe you one. Don’t feel you have to come to the BBQ. I know Soph put you on the spot a bit. A x
Don’t you want me to? J x
Do I? Of course I do. I think. Isn’t it a bit odd inviting a guy I hardly know to a family BBQ? Well, to be fair, I didn’t invite him. Soph took that decision out of my hands, and she was honestly a bit out of order.
But now she’s asked him, and he said yes, un-asking him would seem mean, wouldn’t it?
And, well, I want him to come, but how will I handle it? Soph is being bad enough, but can I cope, can I not give away the fact that I’m lusting after him? My humiliation will be massive if the whole family knows I’ve got a crush, and Jamie is totally oblivious, or, oh my God, what if he realizes and doesn’t know how to politely tell me to sod off? Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. We’ve only sat desk-width apart and traded insults, or shared messages when the other person hasn’t been there. This evening was the first time we’d been together for any length of time, and in my personal space. And Soph was here being a pain, so it wasn’t awkward. But I can’t tell him he is uninvited. And I do want to see him. Gah. My yes/no switch has gone into overdrive. My hand is shaking as I type. Of course, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured into saying yes, if you didn’t want to. A x There, I’ve done it.
Should I ask him why he mentioned purple hair though?
No pressure. Have a good day at the office tomorrow. J x
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday
I notice it before I’ve even sat down. Mabel has a necklace made out of paperclips. I grin and shuffle around in my chair, then lean forward and pick her up.
How on earth did he find time to do that? We were both in the office yesterday, and I was sitting at our desk. He must have waited until I’d gone.
There is a note at her feet. You don’t show her she is special often enough! Endangered species deserve extra love and attention. J x PS These blue feet worry me, I think you’re kidding me when you say it’s natural, does she need slippers? Can birds get chilblains?
I chuckle then duck down behind the monitor as Sal glances up.
The now-familiar flutter of need fills my stomach as I touch the paperclip chain. It’s not fair, the effect Jamie has on me. But I don’t want him to stop. Coming into the office is the best part of my day.
It’s funny. When it was the old-normal, all of us working here five days a week, he was a pain. I guess his teasing, and total lack of any sign that he actually liked me (or, let’s face it, fancied me) got to me more than it should have. It was all magnified because the more I tried to not like him, the more I ended up wishing we’d be thrown together in a small space again. I know. Ridiculous.
But it has happened twice, so how can I really in my heart (however much my head tells me I was being daft) believe it couldn’t happen again? That one day we will be thrown together – and this time there will be no crowd to drag us apart. This time we’ll kiss, and this time he’ll look into my eyes properly and he will remember. And even if he doesn’t, it won’t matter, because this time he will enjoy it as much as me.
Since we’ve moved over to the new-normal though, it just feels different. He’s not teasing me like he’d tease a sister, he’s not taking the mickey. It feels like we’re working together. Like we’re supporting each other. Like we’ve got our own private jokes. And it makes me feel like I’m being hugged inside.
It’s weird as well that I’m sharing more with him than I am with anybody else in my life, but it feels fine. I don’t feel threatened. I trust him. I like sharing a desk. Biscuits. Notes.
And, however much I try and tell myself, that this note-leaving, gently funny stuff is enough, I know I’m kidding myself. I do want more. A tiny part of my heart still believes that this was meant to be. And so does most of my body. Let’s face it, whatever happens, I fancy the pants off him.
It’s going to take bloody ages to undo all these paperclips though and put them back in their pot. I shake my head and place Mabel back in her spot, then power up the computer.
After Jamie went yesterday, it was a bit weird, Soph and I had the best chat we’ve had for ages. I didn’t want her to feel I was locking her out of my life as well as my room, but she seemed totally chilled.
Even when I pointed out that the lock was to stop everybody getting in.
This morning I woke up feeling lighter. Splitting up with Dave in the first place had been sad, but finally burning my bridges and being totally certain about this has taken me far too lo
ng.
A clean break, even if it meant mess and confrontation along the way. I had to do it. He wasn’t going to throw disfiguring acid at me, it might just be unpleasant. Fine.
I’m sure that other people have told me that my boyfriend was over-bearing, bossy and running my life – but Jamie turning round and asking if that was why I had turned the office into my home had made me realize how bad I’d let things get.
I’d let things drift on because it was the easy thing to do. I’d compromised and let him boss me around because I don’t like confronting people in my personal life. I’d let him mess with my stuff because I’d been able to create another safe space for it somewhere else. I’d carried on because I thought I needed him, I thought he was supporting me, I thought it meant I had somebody to turn to when I had a problem.
I hadn’t realized how desperate I’d been for a place of my own, how much I’d retreated into my tiny space at work. My desk. Until it had been taken away from me.
All the compromise has always been on my side. I had lost all my independence and was turning into a faithful collie that buried its bones in the back garden so that they couldn’t be thrown away. But now I have dug them up. Metaphorically speaking, of course. And I have rediscovered some of my bounce.
It’s like clearing all the two years past its use-by date stuff out of the cupboards, or painting over the mould in the corner of the room. Okay, maybe not quite that. Mould comes back if you cover it up, and I don’t want Dave back. I’ve put bleach on that spot. But you get what I mean, right? I’ve discovered that feeling of freedom from a problem that’s been nagging at me, depressing me, at the back of my mind, for ages. Part of me has been freed, emptied.
And now Jamie has made me a necklace out of stationery items.
Result.
Who knew my mind would ever think that?
I grab my Post-it notes and tap the end of the pen against my chin as I think.
Loving Mabel’s necklace, it’s nearly as rare and precious as she is. Loving my lock as well – thank you! Alice xx PS Blue feet aren’t always cold feet. Sometimes blue things are just blue.
Just like sometimes nice people are just nice.
I half stand to stick the note under Elvis so it isn’t too obvious.
‘Some people have got plenty of time on their hands.’
The dry tone makes me jump guiltily and screw the note up in my hand out of sight.
The dragon gives me her look of intense disapproval as I sink back onto the chair. She looks disapproving around 99 per cent of the time, but it varies in intensity. There’s the resting-face version (mild) all the way up to the killer-look (shut up and say yes to everything she says).
How does she know I’ve been swapping notes with Jamie? Shit!
I suddenly realize she is not looking me in the eye, she is staring at Mabel. The necklace! I cackle – relieved and embarrassed at the same time.
‘I, er, it helped me think. I was thinking, I was planning…’
‘Of course you were.’ She shakes her head slowly. ‘Well think about this.’ She sticks a note firmly in the middle of my monitor. ‘Get a feel for their business, I’d like us to win this contract.’ This time she does look at me directly. She gives me a piercing look. ‘Okay?’ I think this means that if we don’t, I am to blame.
‘Sure. I’ll make it priority, er, this can wait.’ I sweep my notepad to one side and pick up the note. But she’s already gone, off to terrorize somebody else.
Phew.
I slowly uncrumple the note I’d written to Jamie, and smooth it out with my hand. I hadn’t thought about it before, but what if anybody else does read our notes?
What if the office cleaner does and wonders what the hell we’re up to? Sugar. My heart beats a bit faster, but it’s a kind of excited panic, not an ‘oh shit something terrible is about to happen’ panic.
Oh my God, we could be misinterpreted (well he could) and she could decide to write a book. Memoirs of Mrs Mop the Charlady – Love, Lust and Office Supplies.
But she can’t know about the love and lust, can she? Can she? I close my eyes (it helps) and try to remember exactly what we’ve written. And how many kisses there have been. There has definitely been an escalation – from zero, to one, to two. Oh bugger, what if she’s reading things into these notes.
Maybe in future I should hide them out of view. Today was a close call. The dragon does not approve of flirting in work time – even via scraps of paper.
I mean I know Elvis is half-covering this note, but if I was an office cleaner, I’d be tempted to have a quick peep and check out what it says.
Chapter Twenty
Friday
I feel all fidgety. Wednesday at home was non-eventful. As in totally.
I had some very boring changes to put into one website, some weird bugs to sort out in another, and research on the possible new client to do for the dragon lady (a company so boring I will lose the will to live if I have to work for them). Three biscuits and a handful of dry granola for lunch because I need to go shopping, and a cheese toastie for tea because I still needed to go shopping.
Dave has not been seen since he invaded my room, I am hopeful that this will be the end of it. It feels like a victory.
Yesterday, Thursday, Jamie had not responded to my note about Mabel’s jewellery, or the last-minute one I’d written about the Mrs Mop memoirs. I’m not sure if he thinks I’m being serious (or don’t want him to write notes), or he’s worried I’m actually expecting lust and love off him, or he’s just got fed up of leaving notes.
It left me a bit antsy. And worried. I want us to be friends.
I’m scared I’ve over-stepped some mark and messed this up. I still seem to be pretty rubbish at making it clear who I want to share what with.
Worrying about him completely shot my concentration. I nearly messaged Lou or Soph to ask what they thought. But that would have been ridiculous – ‘the guy I share a desk with didn’t respond to my jokey message’. ‘So what?’ would be anybody else’s response. It would have been mine as well before now. In the past, if Dave hadn’t replied to me, I’d have just presumed he was busy. I wouldn’t have worried I’d upset him. Although, with Dave he’d have soon let me know if I had. He made it easy to know when I’d overstepped the mark.
I’m overreacting. Jamie was probably busy, or just didn’t know what to say.
Anyway, I was packing up on Thursday afternoon, ready for home, when I realized he had left a note – under my biscuits, where no Dragon Lady or office cleaner would ever notice it.
I grabbed it, all excited and relieved, then was stopped short by what it said.
Can we have coffee Friday lunch before you start work? If you’ve got time. I need to clear the air before the BBQ. J
No kiss. Short and terse, not funny at all. I have upset him. I must have.
Oh God.
He needs to clear the air by spelling out that he has not been flirting, there will be no memoirs, he’s worried I’ve taken him the wrong way.
He wants to share a desk with somebody else.
I feel queasy, my stomach is all hollow.
So, it’s Friday. Luckily I had a shitload of work to do this morning so I couldn’t sit there wondering what Jamie meant by ‘clear the air’ – though I did have the eight hours from 11pm last night when I got in bed, until 7am when I got up this morning.
I have arrived at the cafe thirty-five minutes early, and Jamie is already there. He looks on edge. This is not good.
Be normal, Alice. ‘Hi! Another coffee?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ He glances up. ‘Thanks,’ he adds as an afterthought, and smiles. It’s a bit strained, he’s trying to soften the blow.
‘I’ll just go and get…’ I croak out.
My throat is dry, and it feels blocked, like it does when I’m trying not to cry.
Okay, I think I’m trying not to cry.
I’m standing stiffly, all awkward.
It’s fine,
I’m going to be fine. This is not even an office romance, it’s a swapping of a few bits of meaningless paper. As long as he is not going to insist that we wipe our desk clean, as well as the slate, it will be fine.
Fine.
Don’t you hate the word fine?
My hand is trembling as I pick my coffee up and slowly walk back over to him. Delaying the inevitable. Working up courage to face this.
‘Look I hope you didn’t think—’ Rashly, on my long walk over I have decided that the best way to deal with this is head on. Deny everything.
But he stops me with a raised hand.
‘Please.’ There’s a look bordering on pleading in his eye. He’s not telling me, like Dave would have done, he’s asking me. ‘Can I say my piece first? If I don’t get it out of my system quick, I might chicken out.’ He looks apologetic.
‘Sure.’ I sit down, shuffle about. Move the little menu to one side, then back again.
I really, really want to tell him I haven’t read anything daft into his intentions, I don’t fancy him, the Mrs Mop was a joke. I’m cool, we’re cool. Instead I do my best to zip it. It is difficult, the words are bubbling up inside me, trying to break out of my mouth.
I don’t want to lose what we’ve got.
We look at each other.
Oh my God, Jamie. Speak, quickly, say something. Tell me, put me out of my misery.
He’s playing around with the teaspoon in his saucer, which isn’t like him at all. ‘Okay, here we go. I’ve got a confession.’ He takes a deep breath. Stops fidgeting and puts the spoon down carefully so that it doesn’t even make the tiniest of clinks. He looks directly at me. ‘I’ve felt guilty about this for ages but didn’t know what to say. I kind of missed the first chance, then I couldn’t find the right time to say something, and I felt like a git for pretending, but I couldn’t exactly turn the clock back so,’ he takes a deep breath, ‘I just thought I’d leave it.’
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