The lift is one of those old cage ones with steel bars and mirrors scratched at the corners. We step in without speaking. Theo hits the button, then wraps her arms around the folder. She stands beside me but feels miles away. The doors clank shut, and the sound echoes up my spine.
France.
What does that even mean?
New kit, new flat, new language I don’t speak. A new team that doesn’t know me, doesn’t owe me anything. Starting over. Again.
Maybe I should be buzzing, posting a smug wee statement online. But all I can think is: it’s not here.
It’s not her.
Theo’s reflection is a blur in the mirror. Straight shoulders, lips drawn tight and her chin slightly up. I don’t know if she’s furious or somewhere I can’t reach. Probably both.
I hear her breathing, though. Short, even inhales, like she’s counting them. I want to say something to fill the silence, or maybe just to hear my own voice, make sure I still have one. But I don’t trust my mouth. It’s full of gravel. My back’s against the bars. I shift, and the lift groans like it doesn’t want to move.
Theo doesn’t look at me.
If I reach for her now, and she pulls away, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I scan the floor. There’s a bit of grit in the corner, a greasy thumbprint on the button panel. Her perfume’s faint but there. It winds itself into my centre, tighter with every breath, until I feel it in my teeth.
‘That was a surprise if ever there was one.’ It comes out a lot lighter than I feel.
‘You should do it.’ She sounds soft and nearly sincere. But it cleaves right through me.
‘What?’ My throat clamps down, throttling the syllables. ‘Marseille?’
She nods once, without turning her face my way. ‘Yes. Charlie’s right. This is a huge deal. For you, obviously. But also for Elite Edge.’
Ah. There it is.
‘So that’s what this is about.’ I try for a dismissive laugh, but my throat is too dry. ‘The agency.’
Of course. The agency comes first. Her job always does. And I get it, she’s brilliant. She deserves a full partnership and all the success she can get. More than a fuck-up with pink hair and a questionable past.
She fidgets beside me but still doesn’t look at me. That hurts more than it should. My body’s gone hypersensitive, everything’s turned up too high. The stale lift air, the hum of the lights, the hiss of the track as we sink lower.
‘I’m not saying it’s not personal,’ she murmurs. ‘But that’s… It’s a fantastic opportunity.’ Her mouth opens like she might say something real – then shuts with a breath through her nose.
I glance sideways. Whatever she’s holding in, it’s tearing through her. Pale cheeks, lips pinched, a sheen on her brow like she’s burning up from the inside.
‘Is that the PR line or yours, Theo?’
The pause is a brick to the sternum. Her knuckles tighten on the folder, and the silence rings like a fire alarm, loud enough to rattle my skull. I press the back of my head to the steel.
She still doesn’t answer.
‘What about…us?’ I ask.
Now her gaze shoots my way. Brief, sharp, and agonised. For a second, her throat works like she might speak, but nothing comes. Her whole body’s tense, a breath held too long.
I shift towards her – just enough for my arm to brush hers. ‘Theo, if I… Maybe I could…or you…’ I don’t finish it. My tongue’s too thick.
I can fucking see her pushing it all down.
Breaks my heart.
‘Don’t make this harder than it has to be.’ She sounds as if she’s angry at herself for almost hoping. ‘I will not stand in the way of your success. And I don’t think you’d want to stand in mine. This was only ever temporary, Finn. Until May.’
