It’s a wonderful thing to wake up without a hangover. It’s also quite fun to be having a pre-work rendezvous. I typically avoid The Pour House because of Elliot and that has meant I’ve been cruelly deprived of their Nutella bombolone. Now the prospect of that deep-fried crispiness and oozy filling has me singing in the shower. Of course, if I was having to confront Elliot by myself, I would be riddled with dread but I always feel pretty much invincible when May is by my side. Which is why it’s something of a blow to emerge from the tube station and find out she got a last-minute job shooting her first cover for a new magazine client.
I’m just weighing whether I could stop a total stranger heading into the cafe and ask them to get me a doughnut when Jay appears in his superhero cape. Literally.
‘Even on a Monday morning?’ I marvel at his get-up.
‘Especially on a Monday morning,’ he replies, standing proud in knee-high lace-up boots, hair styled to Dr Strange perfection.
I lean in for a hug. ‘Thank you for coming to my aid.’
‘You know I love a bit of drama.’
My face falls. ‘You don’t think this is a mistake, approaching him at work?’
Jay shrugs. ‘It’s not ideal but then you don’t want to make a date to see him after work, do you?’
‘I do not.’
‘And a phone call isn’t going to cut it because you really need to see his facial reaction.’
‘Agreed. Come on then, let’s do this.’
I see only female baristas when we enter. It never occurred to me that Monday could be his day off.
‘What now?’ I ask Jay.
‘We’re here, we might as well have a little treat.’
‘Okay, you grab that table in the far corner. I’ll get the goodies. What do you want?’
‘Surprise me with something pretty.’
I look up at the menu, considering the options. ‘Is the beetroot latte the pale pink one?’
‘Yes,’ the young server replies.
‘And does it come in a glass with foam art?’
She nods. And then she looks down at her buzzing phone. ‘Can you excuse me just a moment?’
‘No problem.’ I let my eyes rove the pastry and dessert bar. Isn’t it just like life that all the cutest items are the most calorific? I mean, look at that mini cheesecake with the orchid on top.
‘Have you decided?’ The young server returns to me.
‘Yes, I’ll have one beetroot latte, one matcha latte, one Nutella bombolone and three macarons – one lilac, one pale blue, one peach.’ Jay’s going to love arranging those around his pink drink.
‘Is that everything?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Okay, that’s £52.70, please.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Oh my god, I thought you said it was fifty quid.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What? How is that possible?’
‘Two lattes, one doughnut, three macarons and one replacement shirt.’
‘Shirt?’ It is at that moment I catch sight of Elliot, lurking in the back room.
And so it begins.
I heave a sigh. ‘Could you ask him to come out, please?’
‘Who?’ She blinks innocently.
I roll my eyes. ‘Elliot.’
She looks conflicted.
‘And cancel my order.’
‘Even the doughnut?’ she gasps.
I jut my chin in the air. ‘Even the doughnut.’
I walk over to the far end of the counter and drum my nails on the black laminate surface.
‘Really?’ I say when he finally appears.
‘That was my best shirt.’
‘That was a really good glass of wine.’
‘Then why did you throw it at me?’
‘Why do you think?’ I bluff.
He huffs. ‘I don’t see the big deal, everyone else was taking a pop at you, why is it suddenly a big no-no when it’s me?’
My jaw drops. I don’t quite know where to begin.
I take a breath. ‘So, what you’re saying is—’
‘I don’t think it’s fair!’ he pouts. ‘You know I like you, I’ve always liked you. And suddenly I’m seeing you getting off with this guy and that one, why wouldn’t I take a chance?’
I almost feel like he has a point.
‘When you say this guy and that one . . .’
‘You want me to name names?’
‘If you could . . .’
He makes a scoffing sound and turns away from me, reaching for a surface cleaner. ‘Unbelievable.’
‘Why do you like me anyway?’ I follow him along the counter. ‘It’s not like we’ve ever really got on. In all the years we’ve known each other we’ve barely exchanged two words.’
‘Only because you’ve never given me the time of day.’
I scratch the side of my face. ‘I’ve never felt comfortable around you. It’s just a feeling I had.’
‘I had a feeling too – that you were The One.’
My jaw drops again. I look him in the eyes, probably for the first time. They are small but with a shock of amber around the pupil and ringed with dark denim at the edge. I still get a resounding full-body no when I look at him, but now it comes with an element of sympathy.
He looks sheepish now. ‘I just wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you. I’ve thought about it for so long. I didn’t know when I’d get another chance.’
‘So, what happened exactly?’
‘You really don’t remember?’
‘Just flashes . . .’ I say.
He glances around the cafe. It’s still quiet. Jay has got his headphones on and is grooving away, oblivious. He lowers his voice. ‘I followed you into the main hall. I asked if you wanted to come to the bar for a drink with me, you said no. I tried to get you to change your mind.’ He looks uneasy.
‘Go on.’
‘You were going to walk away – to go back to that Tristan guy. How could I compete with him? So I grabbed you and I . . . well, I kissed you.’ He hangs his head. ‘In my mind I thought it would change everything – you see it in the movies, the girl resists and then goes all weak and compliant in the guy’s arms. But that didn’t happen.’
‘No.’
He sighs, fiddling with the cardboard cup holders. ‘It seemed like you were in shock for a minute. You had this weird look on your face and then the next thing I know you’re chucking wine on me.’
I bite my lip.
‘I left after that. How could I stay?’
For a moment I’m silent, and then I hear myself saying the last words I would ever have expected to spill from my lips. ‘I’m sorry. And not in a woman taking the blame kind of way. I’m just sorry. I know what it’s like to like someone who doesn’t like you back.’
‘It sucks.’
‘Yes, it does,’ I say.
‘At least you didn’t punch me – I heard what you did to Gareth.’
I wince. ‘It was quite a night.’
The bell rings as a bevy of girls come in, cooing over the decor and ordering beetroot lattes to match their all-pink outfits.
‘I should let you go.’
He shrugs, letting the young girl serve them.
‘It wouldn’t have worked out between us,’ I tell him.
‘Apparently not,’ he huffs. ‘But I’ll always have the stain on my shirt to remember you by.’
‘You know, you can just soak it in—’
He holds up his hand. ‘I’m kidding, I don’t care about the shirt.’
I don’t know what to say. This hasn’t gone quite how I expected. I turn and motion to Jay that it’s time for us to leave.
It’s hard to find the right parting words when none of the usual pleasantries apply. Instead, I try to offer some dating wisdom.
‘My only recommendation for future encounters would be to try and ease into making a move.’
‘Really?’ he snorts. ‘How’s that working for you?’
He has a point. I certainly didn’t take a gradual or subtle approach to Tristan and Ben. ‘Touché,’ I concede.
‘Sorry,’ the young server interrupts. ‘Elliot, how much do we charge for a beetroot latte with no beetroot?’
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ I step away.
Jay is already out the door and I’m just pushing it open to join him when Elliot reaches his arm across, blocking my path.
‘Here,’ he says, handing me a little box containing a Nutella bombolone. ‘On me.’
I’m more than a little taken aback. Now this is my kind of love token. ‘Thank you,’ I gush, adding with sincerity, ‘I hope you find your person.’
He gives a grudging shrug. ‘I hope you find yours too.’
