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Something must have shone from my tone, because his voice softens. ‘You’re not the only one who felt like that, Farah. I’m sure the rest of The Tragedies did too.’
He’s not wrong. While no one’s said anything in The Tragedies’ group chat yet, other than bashing the LSDCATS, I wonder if they’re as worried as I am. They’re angry, they want to fight back, but are they afraid and anxious? If they aren’t, I don’t want them to know I am. I don’t want them to feel burdened by my reaction.
And I suppose, in a way, I inherently knew Zayan wouldn’t share this worry. I was banking on his confidence, unshakeable as always.
‘Tell me what you need from me, Farah. You want my advice, it’s yours. You want me to cajole you with my own confidence, I’ll do it. But I can only guess what you’re feeling; you’ve got to tell me what you want.’
Maybe it’s because it’s 3 a.m., or because Zayan’s voice is so smooth, like crushed velvet or chocolate ganache, that I feel like I’m making a deal with a jinni.
‘I want your help. I’ve been struggling with the cast.’ My thoughts flit to Gibitah, and the memory strengthens my resolve to fix this. ‘I want to help build some chemistry between all of us. I don’t want to give the LSDCATS any advantages over us. Their cast will be airtight, no cracks, no conflicts. We need ours to be as good. If not better. I was thinking we could have a more public group date.’
‘Two birds, one stone; I think it’s a good plan. It’ll amp up the speculation about us as well,’ Zayan says, instantly catching my drift. A sense of warmth pulses through me. I like that we’re on the same wavelength about things now.
‘Perfect. The only problem is I have no idea about what we should do. I mean, there are so many things to consider. Everyone has different budgets, drinking habits, sleeping habits, schedules.’
He pauses, and I listen to his breathing on the other end. It’s an oddly comforting soundtrack. Outside my window, I can hear the faint sounds of London, the city that rarely sleeps, and it harmonizes with the steadiness of his breathing. In and out. I feel my eyes getting heavy with the urge to fall asleep, with the comfort that Zayan is at the other end of the phone.
‘I’ve got it.’
My eyelids snap open, instantly alert. ‘What?’
‘How do you feel about confined spaces?’
‘I personally don’t think MI5 is going to be hiring any of us,’ David says, blowing out a breath of frustration as he stares at the quote on the wall.
It’s a scramble of letters that we’ve been collectively staring at for the last ten minutes. Other members of the cast are stationed across the room deciphering clues, trying to open the door that leads into another room. Apparently, there are four in total that we need to pass through to finish this escape-room quest.
‘Maybe not you,’ Anushka replies testily. ‘Try not lumping us all in the same category.’
David shoots her a sharp glare. ‘All right then, Einstein, what’s the quote?’
I share a look with Nur, and we both grimace at the same time. Ben takes a step away from David and Anushka, likely trying to stay out of the blast zone.
‘I take it they haven’t made up yet,’ Zayan says, leaning into my space to whisper. I give him a side glance, only to see him watching the duo with a look of pure amusement rather than worry as their fighting begins to escalate.
‘Astute observation, Holmes,’ I reply sarcastically.
Zayan’s smile broadens, and it’s looking just a little less fake than usual. I’m becoming attuned to when his mask slips on. It’s always when we’re in a group setting, when we’re on the streets, when we’re in front of anyone we don’t know. Really, it’s most of the time. But there are moments, glimpses, of when something heart-joltingly real peeks out. That’s when I have to remind myself that this is all pretend. That I shouldn’t waste my time looking for rare flashes of the real Zayan underneath his veneer, because it would go nowhere. This boy is not for the long haul.
I turn my attention away from Zayan’s smiles to Anushka and David once again. They’re in each other’s faces now, and their insults are becoming more personal, more barbed. I can see other cast members watching them, unease spreading like a virus.
When I proposed an escape-room team-building exercise, I tried to manage my expectations. But once we started our quest, everyone truly got into it. At one end, I can see some people theorizing heavily about the clues. And, sure, there are still some outliers – uncomfortable individuals who haven’t quite delved into this new group dynamic. But it’s a start.
Unless Anushka and David’s fighting ruins it all.
‘Guys,’ I try to intervene quietly, ‘come on. It’s just a quote, we can move –’
‘It’s not just a quote.’ Anushka’s angry gaze slashes into me, and I take a whole step back, colliding with Zayan’s shoulder. ‘It’s a matter of principle.’
‘Don’t bite Farah’s head off because you two can’t have a mature conversation.’ Zayan’s voice reverberates down my spine, just as shock at his defending me floods my system. I imagine he’s showing this solidarity because some cast member must be watching us, but I can’t help but like the slightly protective edge to his tone.
David flushes a deep red and steps back from Anushka. A flash of hurt flits over her face and she stalks away from him – and the group – to get a moment alone. I’m about to walk over to her when Nur places a hand on my shoulder.
I take her lead, and we all go in different directions. I move to the other end of the room, near a soft brown-leather lounge chair. The room has been set up to look like a bunker, with grey walls and realistic-looking furniture from the 1960s. I flop on to the seat gracelessly, surveying the room.
I see Gibitah laughing in the corner with other cast members. Our eyes meet, and her smile dims.
Great.
