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‘Maybe the bugs don’t want to see you either,’ Josie argues.
‘That was mean.’
She shrugs. ‘You’re coming. And we can go to the printing shop on the way.’
23
and the Academy Award goes to... me
F I N N
When my eighth-grade crushHelena Karlsson wore a purple dress to our school dance I dribbled my drink all over my chin. Nowadays, I am metaphorically dribbling every time I see Ava. Frankly, it’s probably only a matter of time before I do it for real.
I can’t lie and say it was a perfect performance, but pretending like my heart wasn’t flip-flopping around my chest last night when she came through the door looking the way she did should be studied in drama schools. She doesn’t even have to try and all I want is to say something that’ll make her laugh, or think I’m smart, or just give me a millisecond of attention.
I groan into my pillow. For the first time in a long while, I get the urge to text the woman I was casually seeing during my first few months in London, in the vain hope it’ll solve my little problem. Fuck,no. I can’t contact this poor woman when my mind’s on someone else.
Someone who is committed to our original plan; be friends, hang out, complete the bucket list. I should be committed to the plan too, but it’s difficult when she occupies every square centimetre of headspace. I’m theone who’s leaving soon, I’m the one who suggested we be friends, yet I’m the one who can’t help wondering about all the maybes.
Maybe I’m a fool for letting myself get too close. Even more of a fool for refusing to step away until the last possible moment, knowing full well it’ll make it harder in the long run.
Maybe I’m imagining the moments where I swear she feels the magnetism too. Where, for a second, her lips part and her heartbeat thunders in the spot just below her jaw, and she’s so perfectly legible I want to tell her,we’re speaking the same language, Ava. Please let me in.
Or maybe I should get a grip, let her date random men whose entire personality is that they’re six foot four, and continue giving Oscar-worthy performances where I act like she doesn’t make me burn up with a single glance. I won’t be at the mercy of someone who’d probably get bored of me within weeks. I’ll get this new job and before we know it I’ll be gone before any trouble really starts. It’s not too late.
Someone yells on the street below and it’s loud enough to snap me out of my self-indulgent whining. It reminds me to let some fresh air in, and when I open the blinds I find the sky is an entirely cloudless blue. I need to spend some time outside, feel the sun on my face, get my heart pumping. I’ll ask Julien if he wants to go to the park and I can put Ava out of my mind until Monday.
I pick up my phone to text him, but, because the gods are laughing at me today, I receive a message from Ava the second I do. She’s sent a picture of herself next to her laptop and my heart flutters. She’s not exactly smiling, but I know her well enough to spot the slight lift of her cheeks that gives her good mood away.
With a sigh I fling myself back onto my bed and look at the photo. I zoom in and see my work on her laptop screen. I don’t know why, but some partof me didn’t expect her to actually look over it, and my little heart flutter turns into a whole flock of birds taking off.
How was my presentation?
I wanna tell you it was shit
but it was actually quite good
Not sure how to feel about the ‘actually’ you used there
I want to ask her how her date went. If she tells me she had a terrible time, I’ll feel bad for manifesting it. And if she tells me it was a success, I’ll feel even worse.
what are you doing right now?
I open up my camera without thinking and send her a selfie in return. It’s only after I’ve pressed send that uncharacteristic nerves fill my stomach. My hair’s a mess, I forgot to check for any post-sleep grossness in my eyes, and it’s just occurred to me that I haven’t shaved in days.
nice beard
Can we really call that a beard?
I feel like it’s heavy-duty stubble at best
whatever you say Santa
you should keep it
It’s honestly kind of itchy
the ladies love stubble
