Page 40 of The Love Hack

So I moved away from the bar, carefully clasping the three glasses in my two hands, and delivered their drinks to Simon and Neil, who were discussing the garden shed Neil was planning on building that weekend.

By the time I’d finished my drink, I’d decided it was time to leave, so I put my glass down on the bar and returned to the table where we’d left our bags. Ross was there, slinging his black nylon messenger bag over his shoulder. I could see the worn place on his T-shirt where the fabric had rubbed away after years of the same treatment.

‘You calling it a night?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I think so. Two large wines is one thing, but three equals a sore head tomorrow.’

‘Wise words. Want to walk with me?’

I wasn’t sure that was a smart idea, but since we were going in exactly the same direction, there was no getting out of it.

‘Sure,’ I said.

We left the pub, stepping out into the balmy evening, and headed north, threading our way through the throng of Friday-afternoon drinkers and commuters.

‘Looked like that was quite the heart-to-heart you and Chiraag were having back there.’

‘Not really.’ I had no way of knowing how much of Chiraag’s life story Ross was party to, and I wasn’t going to betray his confidence. 'He was just taking about cycling.’

Ross rolled his eyes, grinning affectionately. ‘As he does, as often and for as long as anyone’ll let him. Just as well he’s such a good-looking guy, otherwise you’d have been headed for the hills, with or without a bike.’

I half-turned to him, startled. Was it possible he could be a bit… jealous?

‘He was talking about his family as well,’ I said, surprised at the urge I felt to defend him. ‘He’s an only child, you know.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’

‘I can’t imagine what that must be like. Me and my sister have always been so close.’ Were we, though? Were we still? ‘Do your mum and dad live in London?’

He shook his head. ‘Mum does. Dad’s – not on the scene.’

Which could mean anything – or nothing. Emboldened by the wine and Chiraag’s praise of my new-found listening-to-men skills, I pressed on.

‘And you said – I think you mentioned you spent time in America when you were growing up?’

‘I was born in New York City,’ he said, adding with a hint of self-mockery, ‘The Big Apple.’

‘That’s so cool! I’ve never been, but I’d love to. Do you go back often?’

‘Used to. Now, not so much. Once a year.’

Once a year sounded pretty often to me. ‘Planning to go this year?’

‘I guess. Around the fall.’

Talking about his birth city had brought the hint of a trans-Atlantic twang accent into his voice, which I’d never noticed before. The fall – how could he make one word sound so exotic – almost romantic?

Then I remembered that I was forbidden to think of anything Ross said or did as romantic. Ross, who had a date for cocktails with my sister’s closest friends just the next day. But what was it Ross had said about Bryony? ‘She’s more into me than I’m into her.’ What did that mean? It wasn’t like he was saying he wasn’t into her, just that she was more into him. And surely these things could never be exactly equal? I remembered Amelie saying once that she’d read a French saying somewhere about there always being someone in a relationship who did the kissing, and someone who presented their cheek to receive the kiss.

Her implication had clearly been that she expected to be the kissee rather than the kisser, always, but then that was Amelie for you.

‘Lucy?’ Ross’s voice startled me – we’d been walking in silence for a few minutes, and now we’d reached the main road where Astro’s favourite fish and chip was, next to the supermarket.

‘Oh, God, sorry. I was thinking.’

He frowned, almost disapprovingly, and I felt a flash of panic as if I’d been thinking out load and he knew I’d overheard his conversation with Marco.

‘I’m going to duck in here and get something for dinner,’ he said. ‘So I’ll say goodbye.’

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