I take a sip from one of my smoothies, then the other, and finally a third sip from the first.
Tony watches me the whole time and squints at me. “Are you… nervous or something?”
“Nervous? No. Why?”
“I don’t know,” he says still looking at me with a thin stare. “I see you in the gym all focused and in the zone. I’ve been flirting with you for the best part of four months and you have batted away all my approaches until this last week and now you just seem… very distracted or, yeah, nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I clarify and I know I probably owe him more than that but I close my lips.
“So you’re distracted then?” One of Tony’s eyebrows arches. “Is it another man?”
I choke on air. “No, of course not. I’m not going to ask you out for a drink and then spend the whole time thinking about someone else.”
Except that’s exactly what I’ve done.
Suddenly, I’m flooded with guilt. Tony may not be the kindest man in the universe but he doesn’t deserve being treated this way.
If I can just focus on him. If I can maybe find out more about him. If I can just remember that this is what needs to happen for me to put an end to the torment that is having Marcello and yet not having him at all.
I take three more sips from my drinks, starting with the one I drank in the middle again. Once more, Tony studies me with a glare that is more concerned than curious.
“I promise I’m not distracted,” I say and I shift forward in my chair to try and prove it. “Tell me about yourself, Tony. What’s it like being cabin crew these days?”
“Same as it always is,” he says with a close-lipped smile that I choose to interpret as proud rather than arrogant. “Love the job and the benefits, hate the schedule and the customers. Although I’m probably not supposed to say that.
I know I’m supposed to laugh or at least smile with him, but it’s too much effort. “Do you do short-haul or long-haul?
“Long-haul, of course.”
“That’s… awesome,” I try. I honestly couldn’t imagine doing that job. The shift work. The jet-lag. The lack of regular routine and absence of control over my food. But I can’t say that. “So you’ve seen a lot of the world then?”
“Yeah, most of South America and Asia, half of Africa, and more North American cities than I can count,” he says it like it’s both a boring fact and also his whole personality.
“Where… What’s your favourite place?” It’s a terrible question and by the look on Tony’s face, he knows it. I take another three sips of my drinks.
“If I say the Maldives, does that make me a cliché?” he finally replies after watching me carefully again. I start counting in threes to try and not worry what he’s thinking about me.
“I don’t think so. It’s one of the most unique places in the world. I’d love to go one day.”
With Marcello. I’d love to go with Marcello.
“Play your cards right today and maybe I’ll take you with me.” He winks and it prompts another physical reaction, this time making the air I breathe in thin and sparse. My chest tightens and I resist the urge to rub at my sternum to loosen things up. I have to get over this. I’m stronger than this, aren’t I?
“Well, I did buy you a smoothie,” I say and I swear in my head it sounded like flirting but Tony’s slightly wrinkled upper lip tells me it didn’t land. At all.
I take three more sips and continue counting in my head.
“So, I have to ask.” Tony pushes his smoothie out of his way, as if it’s a barrier between him and me. “What’s with the three thing? The three drinks and three sips thing?”
I don’t even try to breathe. I’m not entirely sure my lungs can still work like they’re supposed to. Nobody’s ever noticed my ‘three thing’ before, or if they have, they’ve never challenged me on it.
Except that’s a lie. Marcello noticed and Marcello asked me about it. But while it wasn’t comfortable, it was nothing like this. When Marcello talked about it, it was like he held a mirror up to my face and held my hand while I glanced in it. And then when that got too much for me, he let me look away and he still kept my hand in his. But Tony’s crafty smile and accusing glare feels like it’s completely void of gentleness or even care. And by the way his foot swings as he waits for my reply, he’s not going to let me avoid answering.
“I mean, it’s clearly a thing.” Tony is talking again and I grip the sides of my chair to try and squeeze out some of the tension in my body. “All these threes. Is it like some neurotic OCD habit or something?”
I open my mouth to say something, although I have no clue what, but words from somewhere behind me stop me.
“What if it is?” A baritone of a voice pulls Tony’s gaze above my head.
