Page 47 of The Fall-Out

‘Good thinking. There’s going to be a lot of salt involved here, I reckon.’

‘There’d better be. Double cheeseburger with extra bacon?’

‘Fries, obviously. Plain or dirty?’

‘Dirty for sure. And onion rings?’

‘Be rude not to.’

Grinning at each other, like we were complicit in some kind of secret ritual, we ordered our food and drinks. Damn, he had a great smile, I thought. I couldn’t help noticing a girl at the table next to us nudge her friend and whisper something, and them both surreptitiously have a good old stare at Patch.

This must be what it was like for Zara every time she went out with him, I thought. Except Patch probably got the exact same with men checking out Zara.

Then Patch asked, ‘So what did you think of the film?’

I took a gulp of my negroni, the giant ice cube pressing cold against my nose. ‘It was – complex.’

‘Why do you say that? It was a great thriller for sure.’

‘Yeah, I could have done with a bit less violence if I’m honest.’

‘You were watching through your fingers at one point, I noticed.’

‘Was I?’ So he’d been looking at me in the darkness.

‘I wondered if I needed to hold your hand.’

I laughed awkwardly. ‘I could’ve done with a hand-hold.’

‘Damn.’ He took a swallow of beer. ‘A missed opportunity.’

Stop flirting with me, I thought. But his words gave me a small glow of pleasure I couldn’t quite suppress.

I was saved from having to respond by our food turning up, and we dived into it as if we hadn’t eaten in days. I was too hungry to care if I got ketchup on my chin and had to blow on my onion rings because they were too hot to eat.

See, I told myself. You don’t fancy him. If you did, you’d be licking your fingers seductively instead of scattering paper napkins everywhere.

‘Anyway,’ he said, adding salt to the already salty chips, ‘What did you mean by complex?’

‘The film? Like you said, it was a thriller – and a good one. But there was a message there, too, I thought.’

I paused, thinking, and took another bite of my burger.

‘About how women could be driven to violence, because society is so full of violence towards them?’

Surprised, I swallowed. ‘Yeah. That. All that suppressed trauma needing some kind of an outlet.’

He nodded. ‘That was hard to watch. I couldn’t help thinking – if it had been my sister, or Zee, or you…’

His words touched me. I was reminded of Zara’s dismissal of her boyfriend – a loveable hunk of meat. But it felt unfair – just because he wanted to protect the women he cared about didn’t make him some knuckle-dragging chauvinist. And to have been included in the list of women worthy of his protection made me feel absurdly pleased.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked. ‘You’ve gone all serious all of a sudden.’

‘I’m just thinking – I like seeing you. I’m glad we’re friends.’

‘I’m glad we’re friends too.’ He smiled, took another swallow of his cocktail, then added, ‘Except when I’m not.’

I felt a tingle of anticipation – part excitement, part apprehension. ‘What do you mean?’

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