Inod.
Henods.
‘Okay.Well…’
‘Do you want to come and see the show on Sunday night?’ he blurts out. ‘It would be cool to have you there on my first night as a castmember.’
‘Yeah,’ I say immediately. ‘Yes. I’dloveto.’
‘Great!’
‘Great!’ I parrotagain.
Wrapping the blanket around me, I wander out into the hallway to retrieve myclothes.
Once dressed and at the front door, I open my mouth to ask Seth if he wants to hang out tonight again. To do more ‘flinging’. But before I do, Seth leans in to give me a kiss on thecheek.
‘Hey, um, listen… I’m gonna be pretty busy at work so… I probably won’t see you until Sunday. I’ll email you thetickets,um…’
He trails off, his cheeks turning alittlered.
Awkward.
‘Yeah. Yeah, no probs,’ I reply, my voice a tad too high. ‘Okay. Bye! Seeyouthen!’
‘Goodbye,Olive.’
* * *
As I walk backfrom the subway station to Anders’ house, the sun shines brightly, illuminating the buildings prettily. I try my best to not feel gutted about the fact that Seth seemingly couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I have no right to feel gutted. I told him it was just a one-time thing. Itwasjust a one-time thing. I should enjoy it for what it was: a toe well and truly dipped in. I stride purposefully through Gramercy Park, feeling proud of myself as I navigate most of the journey without myCitymapperapp.
Before I turn onto Anders’ street I hold up my phone and take a picture of myself squinting in the sun. Then I send it to Birdie, along with a textthatsays:
Sex is nice,isn’t it? Why didn’t youtellme;)
Ichuckleto myself as the text wings its way to her, but my laugh is cut short when I realise that there’s a crowd of around thirty people outside of Anders’ house. They’re all jostling to get the front, elbowing each other out oftheway.
What the heck isgoingon?
I push my way through the throng to Anders’frontdoor.
I knock on, but there’s no answer. I knock again as hard asIcan.
‘Isaidto form an orderly queue!’ Anders yells from inside. ‘No knocking. We will see to you all in good time!Dearme!’
I open the letter box and push my face up against it. ‘It’s Olive! Anders! Let me in! What the bloody hell is going on here? Letmein!’
After a few seconds the door swings open and Anders stands there dressed in shades of cream and grey. His usually pale face isglowingred.
A young man walks past him and out of the house, disappearing into the crowdoutside.
‘Goodbye,’ Anders yells after him. ‘We’ll be intouch!’
‘Who was that? Who are these strangers outside your house?’ I ask, closing the door behind me. ‘Why are you so pink ofcheek?’
‘Come through, come through,’ Anders says, taking my hand and dragging me into his kitchen. ‘It is all happening at Chez von PreenthisAM.’
What isgoingon?
