‘I’m– It’s not a secret!’ I protest. ‘The very opposite, actually.’
LUC
Can we agree you’re always the one who tells me our plans and not Mimi?
Not that I don’t like talking to her!
But it’s making me feel like an escort
SIENNA
Fine – from now on, Rule Number Four decrees I will always be the one to invite you places
LUC
I reserve the right to ask you on a date!
We need to stop calling our outings dates. It’s doing funny things to my brain, making me want to put on my running trainers and escape in the opposite direction. But something about the idea of Luc actively wanting to invite me to spend time with him, rather than it all being on my terms, sends my insides to liquid.
Our first ever proper date was in a restaurant not too far from my house. A tiny independent Italian, so small there are only six tables. They’d had a cancellation, so we got lucky. It was so small that Luc’s legs kept brushing against my own under the table, sending my heart into the pit of my stomach. Our plates were crashing together. It was boiling in there, and Luc had to peel my clothes off me when we got back home.
LUC
And weren’t there already four rules?
SIENNA
Maybe, can’t remember
LUC
Maybe we should write them down
Is that how you make something legally binding?
My fingers hover over my phone screen. I reach out to sip my wine, trying to think of something funny I can retort.
SIENNA
You really want this arrangement to be business don’t you
If you want it to be legally binding, I can get my lawyer to draw up a proper contract
All he replies is a laughing emoji, and I’m not sure whether it means he’s actually laughing or whether he wants to end the conversation. I nibble on the inside of my cheek periodically, the edge of my molar cutting down on the pink flesh. I’m gnawing so aimlessly, so consciously-but-subconsciously that I’m almost certain there will be a tiny welt there later.
Is this agonising worry what I’ve been missing out on all these years? Because if so, I’m not sure I’ve been missing much. Why does Luc want everything to be so official? And yet he doesn’t want everything to go through Mimi?
‘What are you thinking about?’
I don’t realise Jess is watching me until her voice breaks me out of my trance, my own violent thought pattern. She is frowning, the smile from earlier melting off her face by the heat of the worry emanating from me. Her hand finds my knee under the blanket, and she pats reassuringly. The way she gets me to confess my thoughts when my walls fly up, mymouth locks shut. A subtle coaxing ofI’m here, I hear you. Nothingyou say is going to make me run.
‘Nothing, really.’ The lie slips off my tongue like soap on a wet floor. ‘You know what I get like when I’m writing.’
The sparkle returns and Jess’s hand returns to her own lap. ‘It’s all you think about.’
I bow my head, forcing a smile. ‘Always planning the next song.’ It isn’t a complete lie. I could technically make a song out of anything that goes on in my head.
I would be glad to continue missing out on the anxiety of being on the brink of letting someone in, the anxiety of vulnerability, and the constant fear they’ll leave. It’s not for me.
