No pressure. Noperformance.
Just conversation.
I exhale.
Alright then.
Let’s see what happens when I don’t try to skip to the end.
There’s a knock at the door.
I frown at the ceiling, then at the door, then at the phone still warm in my hand. I’m not expecting anyone. I consider ignoring it for a second, but the knock comes again, sharper this time. Purposeful.
I swing my legs off the sofa and open the door.
Christa stands there, coat half undone, bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly windblown like she’s walked fast and argued with herself the whole way. She looks… focused. Dangerous.
“Hi,” she says. “I’ve had an idea.”
I blink. “Okay.”
“And it might be a stupid idea,” she continues, already stepping past me and into the flat, “but it’s also quite a logical one, so I thought I’d better say it out loud before I either talk myself out of it or fully commit and buy colour-coded folders.”
I close the door slowly behind her. “Do I need to sit down?”
“Probably,” she says, already scanning the room before pointing at the kitchen island. “Why is your post pile there instead of by the door?”
I stare at her. “Christa.”
“Yes, sorry.” She stops mid-step and turns to face me. “Focus.”
She takes a breath. Then another. Then gives up on the idea of calm entirely.
“I might need to move,” she says. “Not might. I definitely need to move. And I’ve done the numbers and the timings and spoken to Ivy, who should not be allowed opinions, and this is where it gets weird.”
My brain scrambles to keep up. “That is a lot of information for thirty seconds.”
“I know,” she says. “I didn’t want to lose momentum.”
She drops her bag onto the chair, pulls out a notebook, then freezes. “Right. Before I say this, I want to be clear that I am not suggesting anything romantic. At all. In any way.”
I nod slowly. “Good start.”
“And I know we said friends. Just friends. Very sensible friends.”
“Yes.”
“And that we’re being grown-ups about this.”
“Christa.”
She points at me. “Let me finish.”
I raise my hands. “Finishing encouraged.”
She takes another breath, clearly trying to rein herself in. “Ivy thinks I should move in with you.”
The words land and sit there.
