‘Are you asking me out?’ I say, grinning, knowing he wasn’t.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I shouldn’t have asked that; you’ll think it’s a trick. But it’s an idea, an experiment. Let’s go out – as friends. Then everyone will leave me alone about not having a girlfriend.’
My superpower is still working and he’s not tricking me but still...
‘Tell your friends to leave you alone. I don’t do male friends unless I work with them.’ He seemed like a decent guy. In another universe, we could have dated – but not in this one. ‘Sorry,’ I add, ‘no dice. Not my thing.’ I pick up the tray of coffees and goodies that has handily just materialised in front of me and head back to my crew.
‘OK, then. Very nice to meet you.’ He smiles at me.
Back at the table, Vilma gives me thelaser-eye look. ‘So, that dude you were talking to. He was into you, wasn’t he?’
‘He wasn’t,’ I say. ‘We were discussing how dating isover-rated and humanity should get used to living life alone.’
‘Ugh,’ says Rilla, without looking up from her phone. ‘What about sex?’
I feel Vilma’s hand on my thigh and realise she’s glaring at me. ‘You have no friends, Sid: none, except the people you work with. And us, although I practically had to kidnap you to get you out. You need some life. For fuck’s sake, go out with this guy – as a friend. You’ve got plenty ofhome-made pepper spray in case he’s stalker material, but he looks OK.’
I’m shocked into silence.
Vilma has looked up to me her whole life and now she’s staring at me as if I am the weirdest person she’s ever met: her crazy sister, the recluse, who never goes out.
I am not going to cry. I never cry. I am going to get angry. Anger works better.
‘Fine,’ I say furiously, as if I’m raising the stakes on a poker game, ‘fine. Let me out, Karla.’
I wriggle out and march up to the table where Finn is now sitting with his two nephews, who are wolfing down cake as if they’ve been on a keto diet for a month.
They all stare at me.
‘Just friends,’ I say, ignoring the two younger men. ‘No funny business. First sign of it and I’m off.’
‘Me too,’ he says, looking only a hint startled. ‘Film? I have to tell you that I cannot watch – er,’ he considers his words, ‘sad movies where people cry.’
‘Me neither. I like ones where women get to avenge themselves on men. With guns. Flamethrowers, castration, that sort of thing.’
One of the nephews winces.
Finn considers this and nods approval. ‘Good plan.’
He extracts himself from theopen-mouthed nephews and we move away.
‘My name is Sid, short for Sidonie. Never call me Sidonie.’ I am aware that I am talking very fast but I think that I may run if I consider how unlike me this is.
‘OK, Sid, to keep the ball entirely in your court, I will give you my phone number and if you really want to do this you can ring me, and maybe you should give me your card in case you think I’m being, er, big headed by expecting you to ring me. Because the man rings the woman?’
‘That worked in the nineteenth century, but not anymore,’ I say gravely.‘Besides, we’re in the Friend Zone, which has different rules.’
He grins and it turns out that he really has the most amazing smile. I shuffle around in my purse and take out a card. We manage to swap with only the faintest touch of fingers. But that still feels pleasurable.
‘Tomorrow, when we are in our right minds and we have had some sleep, we will phone each other. And whoever phones first gets to pick the film,’ I barter.
‘Deal.’
We shake hands and then with one last, bursting grin, he salutes me.
‘Comrade friend,’ he says.
‘Smartass,’ I mutter, pretty sure he can hear me.
