Because of course he is.
Of course Tyler fucking Adams is my sister’s girlfriend’s brother.
‘Just don’t mention that the others couldn’t make it; it’s a touchy subject,’ Cesca hisses in my ear.
‘Others?’
She gives me a funny look and I realize I’m probably meant to know exactly who she’s talking about.
Tyler scooches along the sofa to give me enough room to sit down.
‘Wasn’t expecting to see you here,’ he says with a grin that seems genuine but I can see the smug edge like he’s still laughing at me for making a fool of myself in the biscuit aisle of Tesco.
‘Likewise,’ I say curtly.
We make small talk. And I mean the smallest of the small. If I thought the first part of this evening was excruciating, this is far, far worse.
I feel fingers spider into mine and I look down to see that Cesca has taken my hand under the table. I squeeze gently and she responds in kind. Perhaps there is still some affection here, perhaps this Cesca and her Bethany aren’t so far apart they can’t find each other again.
She leans in as if to whisper in my ear and I close the rest of the space between us. ‘He’s single, you know,’ she says, a hint of the salacious in her tone.
‘And?’ I whisper back, my eyes trained on Tyler to check he isn’t listening, but he’s too engrossed in telling Helen some boring story about his alma mater.
‘You like him. It’s pretty clear.’
‘I do not like him.’
‘The lady doth protest too much,’ she says.
Later that night I find myself at the bar getting more wine for me and yet another water for Cesca. ‘Are you sure you didn’t want like an Appletiser or something?’ I’d asked her. Cesca always loved Appletiser; Dad used to serve it to us in champagne flutes at Christmas and on special occasions and we thought we were ever so sophisticated. She’d glanced at Helen for a split second, just long enough for me to see that it wasn’t just her alcohol level Helen was interested in.
‘Err … no. Just water, thank you.’ She’d given me a smile, one that broke my heart but also filled me with hope that perhaps she realized this wasn’t right, perhaps she was already thinking of the ways she could escape from whatever the fuck their relationship really was.
I order the drinks, pulling out my phone to pay. But when I tap the phone against the back of the payment unit the woman behind the bar looks at me quizzically. ‘The contactless limit is twenty-five pounds,’ she tells me like I’m a five-year-old who doesn’t understand basic facts that even babies know.
Since when was the limit only twenty-five pounds? It was one of my colleagues who wrote a groundbreaking paper about the economics of removing contactless limits; I remember we all went to the pub to celebrate after it was published. I stare at the bartender for a moment.
‘Can you pay by card, please.’ She’s clearly bored and wanting to move on to the next person.
I sense him behind me. ‘I take it back in your world things work differently.’ There is a hint of sarcasm I don’t appreciate.
I slide my card into the machine. The action allows me to count to ten in my head, helping control my anger just enough that I don’t make some super snarky remark I’ll probably only regret later.
Instead I turn to him, his pint in my hand. ‘Here’s your drink,’ I say, ever so sweetly.
He has the grace to blush; it’s basic courtesy not to takethe piss too much out of someone who just bought you a drink. ‘Thanks.’ His fingers graze mine as he takes it. ‘I was just kidding,’ he adds.
‘Yeah.’ I’m dismissive, like I genuinely don’t care what he says. I mean, obviously I do care, but I really don’t want him to know that.
‘I mean, it would be kind of cool if you were from another universe.’ There’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
‘It’s not cool,’ I say, my tone heavy. ‘I’m tired and confused and I just want to go home.’
‘Do you need me to help you get home?’ he asks, tilting his head to one side as if he’s appraising me. Appraising me and finding me rather unappealing if he’s honest with himself.
‘Ha!’ I take a large gulp of my wine.
‘Look, are you sure you’re all right?’ This time the concern is real. He steps towards me and I sway a little. Too much wine? Too much stress? Too much of everything all crowding in at once and leaving me shattered into a thousand pieces?
