And just like I was fine two weeks later, when the company let me go and the girl from Nectar’s HR whispered, ‘you’ll land on your feet’ and handed me a card signed by people who’d never once asked me to lunch.
They didn’t let Gil go.
They let me go.
So, yeah, that was the last party I went to until now.
Since moving back to Edinburgh last spring, I haven’t been out. There’s no point. I don’t drink, and small talk with strangers drains me.
I have friends. Of course I do. A book club that turned into a WhatsApp group that turned into three of us sending each other cat memes. Occasional brunches and Pilates when I remember to go.
So yeah. Mostly I work. It’s my happy place and my safe space. And that’s the thing about control. You hold on to it with both hands. Because once you let it slip…
Finn comes out of the kitchen, heading back to me.
‘Hey.’ He curves his hand around my waist. Low, easy, boyfriend-casual.
His touch hits a switch that halts the rest of me. It’s the familiarity that gets me, the way his fingers rest like they know where they belong.
They categorically don’t.
‘Want a drink, babe?’ he asks with a wink.
His hand stays on my waist, and I don’t move. ‘Sure.’
A massive man with red hair in a Celtic shirt lumbers toward us, a sentient brick wall. ‘Mate! Thought you’d ghosted us.’
‘Was thinking about it.’ Finn clasps his hand. ‘Scottie, meet Theo. Theo, this is my flatmate and teammate and general pain in everyone’s arse.’
Scottie’s eyebrows climb. ‘The girlfriend? So you’re real.’
‘Last I checked,’ I say, too brightly.
‘Right!’ Finn grins. ‘Drink for Theo, coming right up.’
And he disappears again, leaving me with my coat and Scottie plus a sudden urge to disappear.
‘So,’ Scottie sizes me up. ‘What’s your angle?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘With Finn. See, he doesn’t do relationships.’
‘People can change.’
‘Sure, in general. But not so sure about him.’ Scottie takes a swig of beer. ‘He’s my best mate, but he’s a knobhead and a notorious flight risk. Always has been, as far as I can tell.’
‘Maybe he needed the right reason to stay.’ The words taste false on my tongue.
This is all pretend. But the edge in Scottie’s scepticism makes me want to prove him wrong, even if I’m lying through my teeth.
Finn returns with a glass of Fanta, grinning as if he’s performed a magic trick.
Scottie mutters something about pool, and slinks off like a sulking bear.
‘See? I remembered,’ Finn says proudly and hands me the glass.
Our fingers graze and there’s a tiny, involuntary tug low in my stomach.
