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‘Sorry about this, by the way,’ he says, looking across the counter at me. A bigger smile pulls all the way up to brown eyes that are unexpectedly warm as they catch mine. ‘You’ve probably already cleaned everything, but the coffee machine in our office broke and we’re working late, and Julien is a diva who categorically refuses to resort to instant coffee.’
The first man lifts his tiny mug in the air with a nod as if in a toast andsays, ‘Worth it, though.’
Ambiguously-accented Finn taps Julien’s mug with his own and they sip their espressos, sensibly much slower than Rory, who’s hovering impatiently by the door like a spaniel knowing it’s about to go on a walk.
Finn makes a guttural noise not entirely appropriate for a public setting. ‘Shit, I’ve missed good coffee.’
I’m emptying the coffee grounds for what I hope is the last time today when Rory starts talking. ‘Are you two done? I would absolutely love it if we could finish work at a decent hour. I’m desperate to be home in time to watch The Chase.’
‘Uh, I think it’s a bit late for that,’ Julien says, as he and Finn catch each other’s eye and try not to laugh.
‘Even on plus-one?’ Rory asks, shoulders slumped, before forcefully pushing against the door once (it’s a pull door), twice (still a pull door), then realising his mistake and yanking it open (there you go) and stepping outside.
‘Sorry,’ Finn says again, arranging the mugs into a triangle and pushing them towards me on the counter while Julien walks towards the door. Rory’s already crossing the street, his posture still despondent even from a distance. Finn rubs a hand along his lower face, drawing my attention to the dark stubble covering what I can tell is a particularly defined jawline. ‘Someone’s coming to fix our machine on Monday, so if you spot us in here at closing time again you are more than welcome to bar us.’ I raise my eyebrows. I can only hope. His mouth twitches like he can read my mind, and his tone is somewhere between amused and apologetic when he says, ‘Although, honestly, I can’t promise I won’t be back during actual sociable hours, because that was the best coffee I’ve had in a long, long while. I’m not just saying that because I feel bad about stopping you from leaving on time.’
This man has been in the shop for mere minutes and I canalready tell he talks too much.
‘Finlay O’Callaghan,’ Julien calls out from the door he’s now propping open with his foot, ‘please stop flirting with this poor woman and let’s go.’
A sheepish grin spreads across Finn’s features and he mumbles, ‘I was just being friendly,’ before striding over to meet his colleague. Both men call out a loud goodbye before the slam of the door closes off the sounds of the street.
3
notable skills: people pleasing and dog whispering
F I N N
In a moment ofimpossible luck, I wake up ten seconds before my alarm. Five-fifty in the morning is marked by weak sunlight filtering through the gap in my blinds, accompanied by the rumbling of Brixton’s near-constant traffic.
I find myself humming as I head into the kitchen, keeping an eye on my phone while I prepare a protein shake and resist my daily urge to reorganise my landlord’s cupboards into a more logical layout. Because even though it absolutely would make more sense to have the mugs by the kettle and the knives by the chopping boards, I’ve been given strict instructions to keep things precisely as my landlord left them while I live here. Such is the price I’m willing to pay for a fully furnished apartment.
Six o’clock comes and goes and I get ready for the day, still listening out for my phone. I raise the blinds and open a few windows, breathing in the fresh South London air, which arguably isn’tsuperfresh, but it does the job.
By the time it gets to six-fifteen, I type out a text. It takes me another few minutes to press send.
Hey Dad, no worries if you’re busy, but are you still free for a call?
A reply comes through quicker than I expect.
Something came up at work, we’ll try again another time.
He doesn’t suggest an alternative day, so I make a mental note to contact his assistant to organise it. Protein shake in hand, I shake off the quiet pangs of disappointment and head out the door, aiming to get a quick swim in before work.
I was under the assumption that no one talks to each other in London. But on my walk, I say hi to the postman, promise the guy at the fruit and veg stand that I’ll be back soon—their mangoes are infinitely better than anything you could get from Tesco—and have ayou-go-no-you-gomoment with a sweaty middle-aged man in the doorway of the leisure centre’s changing room.
By the time I’ve dived into the water, my mind is settled. For years now, I’ve used swimming as a constant. Everywhere I’ve lived, the water wraps itself around me in a hug, the smell of chlorine so familiar it feels like a friend. There’s something to be said about the sameness of moving myself through the water; arms, legs, breathe, arms, legs, breathe.
I let my brain make a tentative wander as I swim. I’ve only got a few more months left of my contract before I start preparing for my next move, and I fully intend to make the most of London while I’m here. I’ve left enough places half finished that I’m determined to change things this time around and do this city right. Or better than Paris, at least. Though I guess the bar’s pretty low with that.
When my muscles start to protest, I push through a few morelaps and then call it a day. I’m slapping wet footprints across the floor when someone calls my name.
Mia’s another regular in the pool—and the weights, and the treadmill and the boxing ring, come to think of it. We’ve been out a few times to the pub as friends, and a little while ago I got a hunch she might want something more than I could give. There’s not much I enjoy more than an easy flirt, but the guilt started to pull at me for inadvertently stringing her along, so I took matters into my own hands.
‘I just wanted to say thank you,’ she says, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. ‘For setting Jack and me up the other week.’
Pink rises to her cheeks and I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘It’s going well?’
She drops her voice, excitement coating every word, and I lean in closer for the gossip. ‘We’ve trained together for the pentathlon a few times, and we’re going out for dinner this evening. You’re basically Cupid.’
