‘Hey’ she answers on the second ring.
‘I need a hobby,’ I announce between crunches of cucumber.
There’s a pause.‘How’s the chocolate tasting going?’
‘Turns out that’s not a real hobby.’
‘Go figure,’ she says.‘So, I’m guessing no progress?’
I chew, then swallow before replying.‘Unless you count aimless scrolling on Facebook Marketplace for weird antique lamps, then no.’
‘You going to Brookie’s tonight?’
‘Yes.I have a date.His name’s Andrew – don’t ask.If you don’t hear from me by ten tomorrow, assume he’s turned me into a skin suit and call the cops.’
Abbey sighs.‘Jamie, this is not healthy.’
‘It’s Friday.Besides, I haven’t had sex in weeks,’ I argue, eager to jump back into my routine and remove all traces of calloused hands and red dust from memory.
‘You say that as if it’s a personal failing.’
‘It is!My mum crashed here for two weeks and called it bonding.And the week before that I got food poisoning from that suspicious Thai joint down the road.’
‘A sabbatical then,’ Abbey deadpans.
‘Exactly,’ I grin.
‘Hmm.Okay, you’re coming for a fun run tomorrow.Eight a.m.Wear runners.’
‘There’s nothing fun about running.’
‘It’ll be good for you.’
‘Doubt it.’I head back to the bathroom, half-eaten cucumber in hand.
‘I mean it,’ Abbey says.‘You need some healthy habits in your life.’
‘Unlikely,’ I mutter, pushing the bathroom door open.‘I’d rather peel the skin from my—’
I freeze.There it is.Sitting on the counter like a cosmic prank from the universe.
Two lines.
Two.Blue.Lines.
‘Jamie?’Abbey says over the phone.‘Hello?’
My eyes widen.My jaw unhinges.I choke down the last bite of cucumber.‘I’ll call you back.’
When I hear the name Andrew, I think receding hairline, high school maths teacher, tucks his shirt into his jeans.Probably owns a cat named Whiskers and uses ‘Cheers’ in every text message.
I do not think shaved blond hair, arms that look like they’ve lifted a house, and a voice so sincere it makes you feel like a fraud sitting across from him.
And yet – here we are.At Brookie’s.Round sixty-seven.
‘So where do you climb?’he asks, eyes bright with innocent curiosity.
I choke on the focaccia.Oh.Right.Climbing.That detail I wedged into my Tinder bio after reading his and thinking,Yep, I can work with that.
