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‘You should let yourself be embarrassed every so often. It’s not the worst thing in the world.’ I roll my eyes and he’s pensive for a while before saying, ‘I don’t even know if I could get embarrassed anymore. I’ve fucked up in almost every possible way, I really don’t think there’s much that could do it.’
‘I’m sure we’ll find something one day,’ I say. ‘But not for me. Thanks, though.’
He scrutinises me with laser focus and I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he mulls this over. It’s off-putting enough that my skin prickles. Out of nowhere, he asks, ‘What’s your middlename?’
I’m thrown by the randomness of the question. ‘Noelle. Why?’
He pauses and launches a dangerous half smile in my direction. I don’t even have the chance to decipher it before he drops down on one knee in the middle of Trafalgar Square, his entire face straining as he fights a laugh.
‘Ava Noelle Monroe, will you—’
‘No!’ My hands fly to my face and I spit out, ‘Get the fuck up.Right now.’I receive a glare from a father walking past with his child and growl, ‘Get up or I will never give you a free coffee ever again. Ever.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ He’s still looking up at me from the floor, a stupid smile pushing out of every crease of his face, and I’m well aware that people in the vicinity have stopped what they’re doing to watch.
‘Try me.’ I force myself to lock eyes, my face a stony mask in comparison to his unadulterated joy.
He sighs and pretends to tie his shoelaces, effectively dispersing the bubble of nosy people waiting for me to respond. ‘Does this mean I’m gonna have to cancel the blimp?’
I deserve a medal for resisting the urge to push him in the fountain, I really do. I don’t know whether to be infuriated or impressed he’s figured out so quickly exactly how to press my buttons.
We climb up the main staircase and his voice is chipper when he asks, ‘Was thatembarrassingfor you?’
‘Obviously.’ I draw out every syllable, each one more venomous than the last.
‘And did you survive the ordeal?’
‘Finn, our “friendship” is hanging on by a hair’s breadth of a thread right now, please don’t push it. I amthisclose to breakingour agreement and telling Josie all about this stupid mess I’ve found myself in. At this stage, I will take barrels of her pity and figure out how to deal with it.’
‘But you won’t tell her, because you know she’s right. That you do need, and, dare I say,wantto get out more, and I come as a convenient, pre-packaged, limited-time-only summer activity provider.’
I stomp the next few stairs and pretend I haven’t heard him. As we hit the top of the staircase we’re greeted by various performers and artists; a man painted silver pretending to be a statue, another drawing a portrait in chalk on the paving slabs, and one of those levitating Yodas that always give me the creeps.
‘Those are my least favourite things about London,’ Finn says abruptly, glancing back at the floating Yoda, whose eyes have been following us as we pass.
‘Don’t get used to me telling you this,’ I grumble, ‘but you’re actually so right.’
The way his mouth drops open in shock forces a laugh to tumble out of me before I can remember to keep it contained, which in turn generates yet another smile on his face that psychiatrists could probably bottle up as a cure for SAD. I clamp my mouth shut and walk in front of him so I don’t have to look at it.
Past the main crowd at the foot of the National Gallery it eases up a bit, and we join a semicircle of people watching a young busker play a cover ofI Wanna Dance with Somebody. Finn positions us right at the front and I stand slightly behind him, scared the singer’s going to call upon volunteers. She’s talented, so I feel kind of bad, because who carries cash anymore? Just as the thought enters my mind, Finn darts forward to drop a note into her open guitar case, and it makes me want to laugh again.
The French family from earlier is on the other side of thesemicircle, and because the crowd is almost entirely made up of tourists, everyone’s really into it.Toointo it. One of the French kids steps forward to dance, and that’s all it takes. Finn shoots me another grin over his shoulder and in a moment of what I can only describe as abject terror, he moves into the open space in the middle of the circle too.
And right there, at the foot of the National Gallery, Finn dances.
He’s not good by any means, and I hope he’s self-aware enough to know it, but his unbridled enthusiasm is infectious enough to convince a few more people to join—all tourists, I assume. All the while, I’m rooted to the spot, morbidly fascinated by the way this alternate London is unravelling in front of my eyes. I didn’t even know this kind of thing was legal.
Finn cheers for the kids, belts out the words with far too much gusto, and dances with an old man hovering at the edge of the crowd, and everything inside me wants to sink into the ground. But the moment my horror-struck eyes lock with his, he winks, and I feel a smile threaten to unfurl. I still have a shred of dignity, so instead of allowing that to happen, I mouth,I hate this.
He gives a one-shouldered shrug as if to say,I know.
The flash-mob gods must be sprinkling some of their coercive magic on me, because for the briefest moment, I consider stepping forward to join him. Would it be so bad?
In the distance I spot Big Ben, and that’s when reality hits. The clock face is too far away for me to read so I pull out my phone to check the time. Shit. I peel myself away from the crowd and fire off two texts.
omg I’m actually the worst I’m so sorry
I’ll be there in 10 mins
