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‘I would never do that,’ he replies smoothly, winking at the women, who laugh and turn away. I don’t have the brain capacity to analyse that. He moves up, giving me space to sit next to him on the cracked leather sofa.
‘I don’t want to think about what has taken place on this couch,’ I say, lip curling in disgust.
‘Thanks for that image.’ And then, ‘Are you good?’
‘I’m dandy,’ I reply. For some reason.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He looks me up and down and, seemingly satisfied with my state, he asks, ‘Can I make a request that you check your phone every so often?’
‘Who are you, my mother?’
‘Forgive me for being concerned for your whereabouts when you drunkenly stumble away and disappear for almost half an hour.’ He’s trying to be flippant but it’s ruined somewhat by the slur to his words. At least we’re matching.
‘Almos— what?’ I look at my phone, taking a moment to focus my eyes, and check the times of all of Finn’s texts, which seem to be clustered to the final ten minutes of my bathroom visit and prove hispoint. ‘What if I was taking a particularly hearty shit and didn’t want to be disturbed?’
‘Wait, women shit?’
‘Absolutely not, don’t be vulgar.’
‘Ava.’ I look at him and his expression is earnest. ‘Sorry if that felt overbearing. I was just worried.’
I lean my head against the back of the sofa and avert my eyes, unwilling to look at him while I say what I’m about to say. ‘It’s fine. It wasn’t overbearing. It’s kind of nice knowing you care.’
‘I do care.’ He leans back too, arms folded behind his head as he stretches his legs out beneath the low table. ‘I thought you might’ve drowned in the toilet, and I still have a bucket list to complete, so that would’ve been a shame.’ He clears his throat. ‘And the other option was that you’d run away.’
‘If I’d wanted to run away, I probably would’ve taken my bag with me.’ Oh shit. Where is my bag? Before I get the chance to fully panic about its whereabouts, he wordlessly hands it to me. ‘Thanks,’ I say sheepishly.
I bite down a yawn and think I’ve done a great job of hiding it until Finn sends me a sideways glance and says, ‘Are you ready to go? I amfucked.’
16
thunderstorms and aeroplane wishes
A V A
Where the sunset earlierpainted the sky with vibrant streaks of pink and orange, now it’s the colour of the pot of water you use to rinse the paintbrushes.
‘London’s so radiant at night.’
‘I think that’s light pollution, Finn.’ We make our way along the river again, heading back the way we came towards Vauxhall station.
‘But knowing the stars are there. It’s comforting,’ Finn says distractedly, his face turned upwards in the direction of a twinkling light.
‘And that’s an aeroplane.’ A droplet of something that’s either rain oreau de cityhits my cheek, but there’s no more after that so I keep walking.
‘I’m trying to muse and you’re ruining it. If you’re not going to say anything profound, be quiet.’ His mouth twitches as I laugh, and he adds, ‘Where’s your imagination, Ava Monroe?’
‘Probably tucked away with my zest for life.’
‘You’re missing out. It’s fun to dream.’
‘Yeah, well, my dream right now is to get home. So I’m walking,’ I say in response, running across the road while the traffic light’s still green and bypassing the Tube station entirely, with the intention to walk all the way home. I’m granted a few moments ofquiet before Finn catches up.
‘And I’m accompanying you.’
‘This feels like stalking.’
‘I’m not letting you travel home alone. If you don’t want me to join you, that’s fine. Tell me to leave and I’ll call you an Uber instead.’ My face scrunches into a scowl and he shoots me a self-satisfied smirk when I don’t reply. I dart across another road and the smirk turns into a sigh. ‘Why do you have no regard for your life?’
