by Kyra Lennon
“Three things. I meant we like the same music.”
“Four. We also have good taste in hotels.”
When he smiled, he looked a lot less melancholy, and again, I found myself wondering why he’d been out on the bridge alone.
“So, why didn’t you go back in?” I asked.
There was a long silence, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to tell me. And he had no reason to at all since he didn’t even know me. “Can I pass on that one?”
I nodded. “Sure. Do you want a drink?” I gestured to my glass. “Seems rude to sit here with a glass of wine and not offer to get you something.” His eyes narrowed with what looked like suspicion, and I laughed again. “I’m not planning to slip you a roofie. I’m not in the habit of luring men into my room.”
I watched as his shoulders loosened again. “Sorry. I’ll go and get a beer or something. Do you need a refill?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay, thanks. One more and I’ll be unable to walk.”
He gave me a nod before standing to go to the bar.
I wasn’t sure what the chances were of me bumping into Evangeline… did she say she preferred Evie…? but it had to be pretty slim. I almost didn’t recognise her, and it wasn’t as if I was looking out for her. Why would I? I’d assumed she lived locally and had gone home. But there she was, in the corner of the bar. I hadn’t intended to approach her. The fact that I had made me question my own sanity.
If she finds out…
I blew out a breath as I reached the bar. One night off. That was all I wanted. One night’s break.
You’re miles from home. She won’t find out.
I still couldn’t believe I’d spoken to this woman outside the club, or even noticed her. I’d been lost in my own world, but her heavy breathing and desperate-sounding footsteps were hard to ignore.
I glanced at her across the room. She looked more comfortable than she had when I first met her. Relaxed, and in clothes that seemed more suited to her. She’d used the long sleeve of her jumper to cover one of her hands, the other one free to reach for her drink or phone.
When I’d told her she looked fine earlier, it was a sort of lie. She looked good, but she really did seem out of place there. Not that I’d stereotype—all kinds of people go to rock shows. I knew because I worked in a music venue myself. But she just seemed… too graceful? She had quite delicate features, and she was small, like a ballerina or something. Not super skinny, but… yeah. Graceful.
I ordered a half pint of lager. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but I didn’t want Evie to drink alone. When the barman handed it to me, I suddenly second guessed myself, knowing I was expected home before midday, which meant my train was just after seven a.m. This would have to be my only one because if I overslept and missed my train, my life would be made a misery.
As I walked back to where Evie sat, she looked up and smiled as I approached. When I sat down, she said, “So, what do you do in Manchester, Ash?”
I took a sip of my drink, wishing I could dive in and drown myself inside it. I wasn’t trying to impress her or anything, I just hated telling people my job. Because that was all it was. A job. Any chance of a career had disappeared because rent was expensive so I couldn’t afford to take an entry level job doing what I wanted to do. Plus, my girlfriend had a pretty serious addiction to nights out and heavy drinking. Those things did not allow for anything other than a weekly wage in a steady job.
“I work in a bar in the city. A bit like the one you ran out of tonight. Late nights, loud noise, bright lights.”
Evie winced. “Wow, you must be pretty hardcore. I found it hard just for a couple of hours.”
“You get used to it. It’s not where I want to be but it’s work.”
She nodded as if she understood. I doubted she did though. Most people wouldn’t.
“How about you?” I asked. “What do you do?”
“I work in graphic design. I have my own small business, and I work from home which suits me.”
“What kind of stuff do you do?”
“I design websites, logos, and I do branding for different companies. I do some writing occasionally too. It depends on what the client wants. Mostly design though.”
“That’s cool. It must be good to work for yourself.”
She was living the dream. Anxiety aside, she seemed to have her shit together. A job she enjoyed and no boss to deal with. No annoying workmates. I bet she had some kind of well-off boyfriend who spoiled her with expensive gifts too. That was what all women seemed to want. Also, the way she was dressed, with very little make-up aside from a bit of pink lipstick and some mascara, she didn’t seem like she was too high maintenance. I guessed since she already had everything she wanted, she didn’t need to impress anyone.
I wonder how long it takes to reach that level of peace in life.
“It’s good and bad,” she said. “I can wear my PJs to work if I want to, but also, it kills my social skills because I don’t see that many people face to face on a daily basis. Much of my work is done via email or over the phone.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Not a fan of people, huh?”
“Not many,” I said, more honestly than I’d intended. There was something freeing about sitting with a stranger I’d never see again that allowed me to be more open.
“My patience level is lower than it used to be too.”
I looked over at her, quickly assessing whether I was invading her space. Heat burned my cheeks, which only made me feel more of a dick. I was a twenty-three-year-old man and I was blushing like a teenage girl.
“You’re fine,” she said, as if she could sense my worries. “You don’t strike me as an idiot.”
“I think my girlfriend would disagree.” I said the words with a smile, as if I was joking, and Evie smiled back at me.
“I doubt that. She’s probably just screwing with you. I’m sure she loves you really.”
That’s what she tells me…
I smiled again to cover how uncomfortable I suddenly was. “What about your boyfriend? I bet he does something cool.”
She laughed. “Why do you think I have a boyfriend?”
“Why wouldn’t you? You seem nice.”
As she laughed harder, I wondered if she was laughing at me. I was probably quite naïve compared to her, but I wasn’t sure what I’d said was that funny.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m divorced, actually.”
“Divorced?” I blurted out. “You’re not old enough to be married and divorced.”
“I like you,” she said, tipping her glass towards me slightly. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a small groan before taking a much larger gulp of her drink. “Oh, Jesus. You look older. You’re a baby. I miss my youth.”
Evie quickly diverted the conversation from age and we started talking about music and the bands we liked. We had so much in common, I was surprised we hadn’t met somewhere before.
We sat in the bar talking for an hour before Evie said it was probably time to go to bed. She was right, especially as I had to get an early train. If I hadn’t, I might have thought about asking if she wanted another drink. She was easy to talk to. I was surprised I’d kept up with her. I wasn’t very good at small talk. It was probably the topic of conversation. Music was one thing I could discuss with confidence.
We were staying on different floors, and hers was lower than mine. Before she got out of the lift, she said, “Come with me a sec.”
I hesitated and she chuckled. Putting her hand out to stop the doors before they closed, she said, “I’m not propositioning you. I just wanted to give you my card. This might sound a little strange but if you go to gigs alone and so do I, and we like the same music, maybe we could meet sometime. As long as you don’t mind me being a nervous wreck.”
There was s
omething kind in her eyes. She was really pretty, but not like most girls. She wasn’t caked in make-up she’d learned how to do by watching YouTube videos. She was natural.
Yeah. This will go down well with Natalie.
“Okay,” was all I said, and she smiled at me and we walked down the corridor to her room.
As she unlocked the door to room 330, I stood in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot like a twat. I couldn’t go in there; she hadn’t invited me. She was gone for less than a minute, and when she came back, she handed me a card. Her fingers gripped it for a moment, as if unsure before letting go.
“Is this weird?” she asked. “Giving you my card? I’m so much older than you, and…”
“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. She clearly had some weird hang-up about her age, and I didn’t get it. “I know it’s wrong to ask, but how much older than me can you possibly be?”
Her eyebrows lowered. “I might regret this but, how old do you think I am?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Twenty-five?”
“Oh!” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly. It was only brief but my whole body stiffened at the contact. She winced when she noticed. “I’m so sorry, that was inappropriate. But I really needed to hear that. I’m twenty-nine. Quickly approaching thirty.”
No wonder she’d called me a baby earlier. Probably, to her, I was. Thirty wasn’t old, but maybe it felt old compared to twenty-three.
“It’s okay,” I said, instantly relaxing when she stepped back. I thought for a second I saw tears in her eyes, but they were gone before I could tell for sure. “Do you… are you okay?” I hesitated mid-sentence because what the hell did I know about the kind of problems a twenty-nine-year-old woman had? As if I could even do anything to help. But she looked sad and I knew what it was like to feel alone. Something about her, even though she seemed like she had her life together, told me she was lonely.
“Oh, you don’t need to hear about that. You’d definitely re-think the idea of us going to another gig, and I’m pretty sure I’ve freaked you out enough for tonight.”
Her words made me laugh. “Why would you think you’ve freaked me out?”
“I don’t know. You just… you seem a little uncertain of me. Not that I blame you. I ruined your moment of calm reflection on the bridge and then invited you to my room. I’m probably not coming across well.”
I laughed again, probably the most real and relaxed laugh I’d let out in a long time. Her cheeks flushed and I felt my own doing the same. “You’re coming across fine. I ruined your moment of calm too. You were happily reading until I came along.”
“Actually, it was nice to have the company. So, thank you.”
“It was no problem.” I looked down at her card. It read: Evangeline West, and had her email address, phone number, Twitter handle, and Facebook page URL on it.
She smiled again. “That’s my phone number, or you can email or message through social media. I wrote my personal Twitter handle on the back of the card too. If you want to reach me. No pressure.”
She suddenly seemed more awkward than me and I nodded. “I’ll message you. Are you going to see Chaos In The Courtyard next month?”
“I don’t have tickets but I’d like to.”
“Okay. If you do get a ticket, we can meet there.”
Was that really wise?
I lay in bed in the dark, phone in hand, trying to read some more of my book before I fell asleep, but I couldn’t focus. I felt weird about giving Ash my details. Did he think I was flirting with him? I didn’t think I’d done anything to give that impression, but maybe he thought…
I growled into the empty room. This was why I was single. Because I couldn’t do anything without overthinking it. Without worrying over every word or action. Not that I’d tried that hard to date since my divorce, but every time I got near a man who might have been my type, I stressed myself over every little thing. My best friend, Keely, wisely pointed out a year ago that maybe I just wasn’t ready to move on yet. Could that still be true?
Maybe, since my ex and I had been together since we were teenagers, it might.
The truth was, Jay had been everything to me. I didn’t love him anymore though. I mean, I loved him with the kind of fondness most people hold for their first love. But knowing he was with someone new now didn’t hurt anymore. I was glad he’d moved away because I might have felt differently if I’d been forced to see them together, because when we first split, the thought of him with someone else had crippled me.
I blinked a few times and tried to put my focus back on my book, but after a couple of minutes, a Twitter notification came up on my screen.
ASH MCKAY is now following you
I guessed he didn’t think I was hitting on him then. He had a girlfriend, so he wouldn’t have followed me if he’d thought that.
Unless he was a cheat and thought I was up for it.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
I said the words out loud because it was the only way to silence my racing thoughts. I tapped into Twitter to follow him back, and within a few minutes, he messaged me.
It was nice to meet you. I hope you’re feeling better now.
Oh, he doesn’t use text speak. Good lad.
I typed back: Thanks for checking on me. It’s not every day you make a new friend on a bridge in the freezing cold!
Ash: Lol, that’s true. Goodnight, Evie. (I have no idea how to spell your full name lol)
I chuckled.
It’s on the card :p It’s Evangeline. But Evie is good too lol. Sleep well
Ash: You too.
I put my phone down on the table beside the bed and smiled to myself. I had made a new friend. A new friend who would be able to make going to gigs a lot less scary. Maybe travelling down to Devon wasn’t such a mistake after all.
The drive back to Stockport was long and dull. The only thing that got me through was listening to music and singing along like I was the star of my own personal rock show. I’d purposely cleared the next day off so I could have a lazy couple of days at home. I usually only took Sundays off, unless I had something super important to do. Going to a rock show didn’t count as ‘super important’ in the grand scheme of things, but in many ways, it was a massive deal. It meant I had to take control of my anxiety, and while driving calmed me, being alone in a strange place was my idea of a clothes off, people staring at me nightmare.
When I got into my cosy two-bedroom house, I threw my bags down in the hallway, extracted my phone from my handbag then went into the living room, flipping on the light on my way to the sofa. Home sweet home. It was just after five p.m. I was pretty sure Keely would be doing something with the kids, but she’d asked me to call her when I got home so I dropped her a quick text to let her know I’d made it back in one piece then went to put the kettle on. Within sixty seconds, I heard my phone ringing so I ran back to the living room to pick it up.
“Hey, Keels.” In the background, I heard the baby crying, and her three-year-old making some kind of high-pitched shrieking noise. I could also hear her husband, Nick, yelling, “Come here, Oscar! It’s bath time!” I smiled, but it was a little wistful. Keely’s kids were a huge part of my world, but between work and Keely’s hectic schedule, it had been more than a week since I’d seen any of them. I missed them all. Their happy family vibe was one of the few things that made me feel truly peaceful.
“How’d it go?” she asked as the background noises slowly faded out.
“Erm, are you sure you can talk now? It sounds manic.”
“It’s fine. I shut myself in the playroom. Nick can handle it.”
I chuckled. He was a great dad. He was out at work all day then, when he got home, Keely always clocked out of mum duties for an hour to have some time to herself.
“So, tell all,” Keely said. “Did you do it?”
“I did. Sort of.” I sighed and sat back down on the sofa. “I went to the gig. It was loud and uncomfortable the w
hole night, and then, when Youth Authority came on, it got louder and wilder. I left after one song because I had a panic attack.”
“Oh, Evie.” Keely’s voice was full of sympathy, but she didn’t sound as disappointed as I felt. “You still took a huge step. It’s not as if this is the last time they’ll ever play so you can always go again.”
“I guess so.” But maybe not alone. I thought about the guy I’d met the night before. He’d seemed a little uncomfortable in his own skin, yet he’d been kind enough to check if I was okay. A large part of me hoped I never heard from him again because he was so young. What the hell would people think if I started hanging around with a guy who was seven years younger than me? Was that all that was left for me now in the way of new friends? People who were actually still growing up, as opposed to me who had already grown up but were trying to recapture the youth they’d skipped by getting married and divorced so young?
I was getting more pathetic with every day.
When I got home, right on time, the flat was empty. I had no idea where Natalie was, but I knew what would happen if I didn’t let her know I was back. I dumped my bag in the bedroom then went through to the kitchen. I took a photo of the kitchen clock on the wall; it was pretty distinctive with a normal round face, but the numbers were around the literal outside of the clock. I then inserted the photo into a text message and wrote, ‘I’m home,’ then hit send.
With that done, I put my phone on the kitchen counter and put the kettle on to make a coffee. I hadn’t slept much the night before, and I didn’t want to sleep on the train, just in case I missed my stop and ended up in Scotland.
I leaned back against the work surface, thinking about what was to come over the next few hours. At least with Natalie out of the flat, I could relax for a while. Kind of. I was never fully relaxed, but at least it was quiet. I had seven hours before I had to be at work, so I could have slept for a bit, but I didn’t want to. I had to unpack, and shower, and I wanted to look at some music recommendations I’d had on Spotify. There were also some new bands playing at the bar soon, and I liked to check them out beforehand. I was pretty good at spotting which would go far and which would fade away—a skill I’d learned when I was a kid and my mother forced me to watch X Factor with her. The commercial stuff on that show never appealed to me; I’d always liked rock and metal above everything else. The only good thing about working in the bar was hearing music and getting paid for it. The job itself was crap. I spent a lot of time alerting the security guards to fights, cleaning up spilled drinks, and carrying stuff around from the basement up to the bar. It was dull and I was sure my ears would be permanently damaged from working there, but I didn’t have a lot of choice.
