AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I take a sip and pull the kind of face a toddler would make before they’ve learnt it’s polite to neutralise your expression sometimes. ‘Foul, as expected.’
I push it back across the table, making a trail through the spillage from me to him.
‘That’s perfectly fine, you’re entitled to your wrong opinion,’ he says breezily, noticing at the same moment I do that his phone has lit up with a call, before flipping it over on the table. He looks overmy shoulder at the sunset. ‘This is my favourite bar, I’ve decided.’
‘It might be mine too.’ I gulp my radioactive-looking drink and wash away the taste of the martini. A few drops slide down the outside of the glass and I lick them without thinking, catching Finn’s eye as I do. ‘What’s your favourite place you’ve lived?’
He leans back in his chair with a stretch. ‘It changes. But you know what? London’s making a case for itself right now.’
‘Because of this bar,’ I offer, meeting his gaze over my glass.
He nods slowly, eyes boring into me. ‘Sure. Because of this bar.’
His phone buzzes again, and the light peeks out even though it’s flipped over.
‘You should get that,’ I suggest.
‘It’s fine.’ His dark eyebrows furrow into a frown. It doesn’t look right on his face.
‘Could be important.’
‘It’s not.’
‘How do you know?’
He grimaces. ‘It’s my mum, who’s clearly up extremely early. Or late. She’s congratulating me on getting a job interview. I’ve been applying for a bunch of them recently and just heard back from one today.’
A smile hits my cheeks, though there’s something else under the surface. ‘Anything exciting?’
‘It could be.’ His voice is clipped and I get a glimpse into how people must feel when they ask me questions and my replies are cagey. But I always appreciate when people respect when I’m reluctant to give answers, so I try to do the same for him. He sighs and says, ‘I was waiting for my dad to get back to me before I told anyone else. I can see he’s read the message, he must’ve just forgotten to reply.’
‘Well, congratulations,’ I say, touching my glass to his. ‘To new opportunities.’
I can’t help it; the bitter lick of envy paints my insides. Because as much as I want to be fine doing what I’m doing, I wish more than anything that I had even an inkling of a plan, that I could find a way to move forward without disrupting the balance I’ve so carefully constructed.
‘Wait, that reminds me. I picked this up for you the other day.’ He reaches into his wallet and hands me a business card. I meet his eyes and he explains, ‘It’s for the design agency in my building. They’re taking interns. I remember you saying you did graphic design at uni and thought you might be interested.’
I stare at the card for a few moments, and then, under the fairy-light glow of the deck, a truth I’ve been avoiding is illuminated. At school, I chose design subjects because I was good at them, minimal effort required. Then at uni, I hoped skill could take the place of passion. Now, I draw on our menus at work to minimise boredom. There’s never been any passion.
I don’t want to be an intern, or take a course, or finish a degree. I don’t want to do this thing I’m vaguely good at. The realisation makes me feel like I’ve been dropped into a dunk tank, the cold water forcing the truth out of me, and I scramble to get out, to determine how to answer the deluge of questions crashing over me.
At my lack of response, Finn backtracks, words spilling over each other in his rush to get them out. ‘Seriously, no pressure, I just know you’re not a huge fan of your job and found out these guys were hiring and thought of you. I didn’t make them any promises or anything. Sorry if I overstepped.’
‘No, that was really nice of you. Thank you. I might look into it.’ Perhaps it's because I know he’s only a temporary feature in mylife that I don’t feel the same pressure as I would telling Josie or Max, but I grant him a fraction of the truth. ‘Actually, maybe I won’t. I don’t know if it’s for me, anymore. I’m not sure it ever was.’
Part of me wonders if it’s wrong to feel like I’m already too late. I know I’m young, I know I shouldn’t feel like this, but when everyone around me is taking every exciting step forward, it feels like this is the universe telling me that this is it for me. If the simpleideaof stepping towards something I’m good at, lack of passion aside, is making my blood freeze, this is proof that the best decision is to just stay back here where it’s safe and comfortable and easy.
Even so, I’m grateful he at least saw something in me, some version of me that doesn’t have coffee grounds under her nails or wear an apron every day.
He appraises me for a moment. ‘You know Belinda from the coffee shop? She started an English degree last year and she’s eighty-two. Take as long as you need to figure things out. You’re allowed to.’
It seems he’s developed an astounding talent for reading my mind.
His phone buzzes once more and he mutters, ‘Sorry, I’m gonna ask my mum to call me back tomorrow.’ Once he’s put his phone in his pocket, he visibly relaxes, and I do too. He leans forward, bracing his elbows against the table and resting his chin on one hand, his usual grin returning to his face.
‘What do you think she’s thinking about?’ he asks, nodding his head at a table to my left.
One of the women is practically inhaling her partner and I ignore the PDA to reply tonelessly, ‘The particle accelerator at CERN.’ I shift to the edge of my seat and look for someone else to analyse. ‘And that guy?’
