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‘No, I’m taste-shaming you, there’s a difference.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my taste,’ I bite back, offended. Well, fine, not really offended, but I pretend to be for the sake of my own dignity.
‘There’severythingwrong with your taste. Look, you asked for my opinion—’
‘I didn’t, actually, you just gave it.’
‘Oh. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.’ She shrugs. ‘Regardless, I’m giving it. You have terrible taste.’
‘Well, my terrible taste has already found a new target, seeing as the last one was unsuccessful. And the one before. He’s tall and he plays rugby and he works in military events planning or something.’
‘He sounds like a Tory.’
‘That’s a stereotype. Anyway, it’s fine, all I need from him is,’ I lower my voice, ‘moderately decent sex. Like, average is fine. I’m not expecting fireworks. So he’s just a means to an end.’
She laughs at my ridiculous logic, ‘You act like you’re ordering something from Deliveroo.’
‘What’s the difference? My cards are on the table. I’m not gonna hook up with someone Ilike.That’s dangerously close to a relationship.’
‘A lot more goes into a relationship than sleeping with them and not completely hating their company,’ she specifies. ‘And I appreciate that you are a woman standing firm in her choice to have casual sex. But ugh, I want you to meet a nice boy. That’s my dream.’
It’s almost laughable to imagine. Me, in all my closed-off, snippy glory, with anice boy. One who smiles at strangers and talks to his mum regularly, and not because he still lives with her.
‘You know, it’s actually all your fault,’ I say, watching a waiter pass by with a tray of sizzling pizza and wishing I hadn’t demolished my own in about twelve seconds flat. ‘I’d never consider going home with strangers if I couldn’t make my great escape straight after, and when there’s no Night Tube running, I can only do that by getting an Uber, which I’d never be able to afford if you and your parents didn’t charge me an obscenely low rent.’
Josie takes a few moments to decipher this. ‘So the solution is to increase your rent?’
‘Absolutely not. While both parties are agreeing to engage in a one-time thing, the solution is for me to continue what I’m doing. Besides,’ I grab another dough ball, ‘I have a 4.96 rating on Uber now. Every cloud.’
‘Okay. How’s it going on your non-romantic quest to findpeople who’ll care about you for more than one night?’
Our conversations keep coming back to this, so I attempt to brush it off. ‘Bold of you to think those men care about me for even one night.’
‘Ava.’ She glares at me, her voice a growl. ‘You promised.’
I’ve spent so long locked into a routine of work-hookup-home and I can’t envision being able to break out of it. But I don’t know how to get her off my back about the whole thing, because I feel like I owe her.
‘I’m considering my options. And I will hang out with someoneplatonicallysoon,’ I say. I’m sure I could find an acquaintance to go for a drink with. Probably.
Josie’s appeased, at least for now. ‘I’ll still be your best friend, right? You won’t get closer to them than me?’
‘Depends what they can offer me. If their parents have a flat in Zone 1 that they’d let me live in for free, I may have to reconsider.’
‘Shut up,’ she says through a bite of her last slice of pizza. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with work. I wish we could hang out more.’
‘I’ve told you, I’m fine by myself.’ I say with a flippant wave of my hand, happy to change the subject to more exciting things and ignore the weird feeling in my stomach. ‘How’s the planning going?’
Josie’s been tied up for the past few months helping curate a new interactive art exhibition for a gallery set to open at the end of the year.
‘It’s going,’ she says with a coy smile. I know the hours tire her out, but any time she talks about her work, her whole face lights up. I can’t help but compare how my own work makes me feel. ‘We think we’ve sorted most of the individual artists and their exhibits, but we’re missing a large-scale centrepiece. There’s an idea floating around for an exhibit where you experience all four seasons in one place, but there’s a lot to do to make it happen.’
‘Wait, that sounds so cool.’ I try to imagine it. ‘How involved are you?’
‘Extremely. It’s going to be a huge collaborative effort, but seeing as it was my idea, it’s on my shoulders to get it right.’
I’ve never met someone so good at curating a style, whether that’s her wardrobe or the decor in our flat. Shebreathesart. ‘And you say you’re not an artist.’
She shrugs, uncharacteristically modest. ‘This is why I’ve been working such long hours. It’s going to be expensive too, so I’ve been working on a pitch for a grant. But we’ll manage. I know we will.’
