Page 33 of Little Miss Fortune

‘What?’

‘You are. You are too skilled for this entry-level job, intelligent, pre— pretty good taste in films. But you don’t do anything risky. You sent me a message last week that someone was sitting in your spot. We have no assigned seats. The whole office is hot-desking. When was the last time you did anything actively fun or embarrassing?’

‘Fainting and having a nut allergy was pretty embarrassing,’ I announce proudly, proving a point.

‘Yeah, but they are things that happen to you. You are not an active doer in your own life. Your fate is slipping away. Do something fun. You are not putting yourself out there.’

I can’t even respond, because I have no retort. I’m racking my brain for the last time I did anything that wasn’t applying for jobs or getting on the Tube. Clubbing was something different, but I didn’t even want to go.

‘Thanks for your advice.’ I log back into my laptop.

‘Sorry, was that too harsh?’

‘No,’ I say quietly.

He looks around, opens his mouth to say something, reaches his hand in the air to me, but then pulls back like a turtle hides its head.

‘I need to go to the ho— home, will you be okay if I leave early?’

‘Yeah. Go whenever.’

It was hurtful to hear that I am boring. That I don’t live my life. But Hanako always says the same thing to me, and so does Leon. Why does it matter now?

We continue filling out the HR application for the advertising request. It’s probably the quietest the two of us have been with each other. There is a light blush on Toby’s cheeks, and I see him throw some sad, shameful glances at me, but I ignore them and type away.

‘What a prick!’ Leon pours me another cup of his homemade kombucha.

He and Sashka go shopping together; Sashka and I watch mind-numbing reality shows on her couch every Saturday; and Leon and I enjoy going to the cinema or watching films in his apartment. Before my internship, I used to bring some Chinese from the takeaway, but since I don’t work there anymore, we decided to order from the takeaway next door to him. It’s not great, but it will get tastier over the sound of my complaining about my supervisor.

‘Like, why is he saying anything to you? You met like, what? Three weeks ago?’ Leon passes the sweet and sour chicken balls with his perfectly tanned hand. He just came back from Tunisia after winning a free holiday.

‘Exactly! Why is he coming at me like he knows anything about me?’

‘Have you told Sashka?’

‘No. I don’t want her to be influenced by my opinion. He’s a bit of an arse. Stop dating him. I am not 12.’

‘No, but he acts like it.’

Leon is always on our side. He is the ultimate yes-man. He knows virtually nothing about Toby but is refusing to play the devil’s advocate.

‘And there is nothing wrong with being boring.’ I stuff my prawn cracker with the house special fried rice and beef in black bean sauce into my mouth.

‘And you are not boring. You are just sensible. We need more sensible people in the world. Why are you so bothered by that cis-white man, anyway?’

‘Ugh, he got on my nerves.’

I continue eating, but Leon doesn’t move a muscle. He stares at me with the passion of a seasoned escape room–goer, as if solving the mystery of an oddly placed portrait.

‘What?’

He shakes his head, shooing away the previous thought and replacing it with, ‘I think these shenanigans have a horrible potential to go tits up.’

‘Not yours.’ I regurgitate his own joke to him.

Leon pauses, assessing whether he is happy with that comment or whether it toes the line of being offensive. Then, deciding to give me grace, he lifts his hand up for a high five. ‘Beautifully said. And speaking of, there was a scandal in the art world the other week.’

‘Do tell.’