I hear them walk down the hallway, open the door, and I hear Oliver shout, ‘LENNY!’
With a groan, I rise from my chair. As I race towards the hallway, I pray they haven’t let him escape. To my relief, Jamie is holding Lenny. He strides up the hallway towards me, carrying my cat. As he approaches, I remember my theory. This will be my first experiment. I make sure our fingers touch. There’s a flash of white light, and I can see Jamie standing, talking to a young woman with long brown hair. She’s telling him that she wasn’t playing chess the other evening; she was in bed with her ex-boyfriend, who also happens to be her paddleboard instructor. Poor Jamie. I can now say my curse works on him.
Jamie laughs as he hands over my cat. ‘Lenny is a menace.’
‘I’ve forgotten my phone,’ says Oliver, still by the front door. He races up the hallway, smiles, and as he passes, I make sure our hands touch. ‘See you tonight, bed partner.’ He chuckles.
I wait for the white light. There’s nothing but silence: no white light and no vision. I gulp. My curse doesn’t work on Oliver.
This is odd. My head is bubbling with thoughts. I can’t just do one experiment on each of them. I need more validation.
‘Jamie,’ I say, thinking of an excuse to touch him. Spotting my loose lace, I ask, ‘Will you hold Lenny while I tie my shoelace?’
He comes over, grabs Lenny and in doing so, our hands touch. There’s a flash of white light, and the same vision I saw earlier. This validates my thinking. My curse works on Jamie.
After tying my shoelace, I take Lenny back, who is now casting me one of his evil feline stares. If there is one thing Lenny hates, it is being passed around like a hot potato.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
As Oliver walks back down the hallway with his phone, I smile and once again make sure our arms brush. Nothing happens. No flash of light. No vision showing how love ends for him. My theory is confirmed.
Why is my curse not working when I touch Oliver?
The sound of my flat door closing behind them triggers an avalanche of thoughts inside my head. I put Lenny down, and he scowls at me before hurrying away.
What is going on with my curse? Why does it stop working with Oliver?
I go to my chair and take out my pencil and notebook. On my page I mark down Jamie’s name and put a line through it. I then circle Oliver’s name. Chewing on the end of my pencil, I decide that I need to undertake more experiments with different people. The thought makes me gulp. I am going to have to touch people intentionally.
On a separate page, I brainstorm some reasons why I can’t see anything when I touch Oliver:
He’s magically protected against curses.
He can’t experience love any more due to heartbreak.
He has written so many happy endings that he’s developed curse immunity.
I sit and stare at my ideas. None of them stand out. I’ll keep this list in case any more ideas come to me.
The kitchen is messy. He didn’t get a chance to tidy up before he went out. I decide to sort it out and restore my high standards of kitchen cleanliness.
To my surprise, an hour later, I hear the door to my flat open and close. I gasp as Oliver walks up the hallway and strides into the living room. He smiles. ‘I’m back. It’s our second night in the bed share. I wouldn’t miss it.’
He sounds like he’s trying to make a go of our new agreement, which is nice. I watch him closely as he removes his jacket and runs a hand through his hair. He pops his head into the kitchen. ‘You cleaned up. Nelly, I was going to do it.’
‘I like cleaning.’
‘If I make a mess, you need to leave it as I will sort it. I feel bad when I see you’ve tidied up for me. Will do that for me?’
‘I promise.’
He watches a film on his iPad while I read more of Margo Lane’s book. The urge to ask where he went is strong, but I refrain and see whether he gives me any clues. He’s wearing his fitted white T-shirt, and I find myself sneaking a glance at how it skims his broad shoulders and clings to every hint of muscle. Oliver has turned something ordinary, like a plain T-shirt, into something dangerously distracting. He catches me staring at him and heat rushes to my cheeks. I remind myself that Oliver is a walking red flag for several reasons: I can’t see anything when we touch, he’s hurting, and he’s a romance author.
Eva sends me a WhatsApp to say hello, and we engage in a bit of friendly banter about the books she’s been reviewing, the trials and tribulations of living with her mum, and how I am getting on with Oliver. While he sits opposite me on the sofa, engrossed in a film, I explain to her how my curse doesn’t seem to work on him. I also screenshot my reasons why it’s not working and send them to her. Her response is interesting. She thinks the idea of Oliver developing immunity through his romance books is funny. She makes me smile by saying that every kiss scene he writes adds an extra layer of curse protection, and that he probably finishes his manuscripts during a full moon. Out of all my ideas, she thinks the heartbreak one is perhaps the most likely and reminds me how much Molly hurt him. I notice that she’s not told me to stay away from him like she did outside my flat door.
It feels nice to be chatting to Eva again, and we both agree to meet up for a cocktail soon. I go to bed early as I am tired. However, annoyingly, I lay awake waiting for him.
27
