‘And you were jobless.’
I fiddle with one of my rings. ‘I’m not sure that’s relevant.’
She gives a short and hard sigh of exasperation.
‘My point is that you didn’t even open yourself up to the idea that a random guy on the street might deem you dateable.’ She looms over me, her dark eyes wide. ‘Which you are, by the way. If I haven’t made that abundantly clear.’
‘You know I love you for saying this,’ I say softly. ‘But the truth is that nothing is going to happen there, especially not with someone like Elliot. He looks like a fucking oil painting or something.’
‘That’s going a bit far–’ she says with a frown, before swiftly cutting herself off. ‘So you do like him… a little bit?’
I sit up slightly, feeling my chest pang with the familiar sensation of anticipatory rejection. I find it very hard to lie to Hennie, so I decide to sidestep the question.
‘He’s obviously good looking. And he’s…’ I pause, fighting for the right word. ‘He’s altogether a really kind and sort of… brilliant person. But I know better than to put any of my eggs into that basket.’
‘But maybe you can Nor – perhaps even justoneof your eggs. A tiny egg. The tiniest of eggs. You never know what will happen with the egg. You know?’ She leans towards me, looking entirely too eager.
I tilt my head with slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Why bother? I’d rather look after my eggs.’
‘You can’t keep your eggs locked up forever,’ she says teasingly.
I decide it’s time to kill the egg analogy. ‘He doesn’t fancy me, Hen; I’mnotgoing near the territory of letting myself like him.’
She grasps my hand.
‘Okay, stay with me as I say this,’ she says, shuffling closer. I brace myself. ‘One day, someone is going to fall hopelessly in love with you. And if you don’t believe that right now, then that’s okay. But please do something for me: do yourself the honour of really believing that someone like Elliot could like you.Loveyou, one day.’
My eyes linger on her black boots in the corner, decorated with striped shoelaces. I follow the pattern of the black and white stripes around the loop of the bow tied at the top.
‘You’re worthy of that. More than worthy,’ she says fiercely. ‘You arecompletelyfall-in-loveable.’
I make a noncommittal noise and nod.
Her fingers gently pull my chin up so my eyes are forced to meet hers. They’re alight with such indignation that the sight summons a tender smile from somewhere within me.
‘Can you do that? For me, please?
I don’t believe it. But I do love her for believing it.
‘I would do anything for you,’ I relent. ‘You know that.’
Her face breaks into a dazzling grin as she wraps her arms around my shoulders.
‘Good.’
I brush a bundle of her hair away from my nose and whisper, ‘This is where you say you would also do anything for me.’
I feel her shake with laughter. ‘There are some things I wouldn’t do for you, I’m afraid. I would never kiss Nigel Farage on the mouth for you.’
I beam at her. ‘Can’t argue with that.’
‘Quite.’ She pats my hair with a sense of finality.
Her words echo dimly in my mind:Do yourself the honour of really believing that someone like Elliot could like you.
But that’s impossible. I know it’s impossible.
I wonder if Hennie just wants it to be true for my own sake, or if she’s making a genuine observation. A warm sensation pools within me when I recall her words – something about the way he looks at me?
