Page 20 of Textbook Romance

‘Do me a favour, can you just reach into my bag and grab my phone?’

I am peri-peri free and retrieve her phone for her, placing it on the table.

‘My passcode is 8624,’ she tells me.

‘Zoe, we’ve literally just met,’ I say, in faux shock that she’d share something so private with me.

‘I trust you. I know where you work,’ she jokes.

I put the digits into the keypad and see a message notification from someone called WANKER. I hazard a guess at who that might be as every sinew in her body seems to stiffen. ‘Is that his middle name?’ I ask, trying to bring some levity to proceedings.

She takes a breath. ‘Yes. It has Germanic roots. Very common in the Bavarian region.’

I am not sure what the message says but there is a strong urge to protect her from it, from him. ‘Would you like me to read the message out? Let you know if it’s safe?’

She looks at me and then shrugs her shoulders. I open up the conversation, trying not to see the message before where Zoe has sent him a middle finger emoji.

‘Zo, Lottie has blocked me now. We need to come up with a way of sorting this. I am her father. I have rights. Please remind her of this. B. There’s also a kiss at the end.’

Zoe exhales a huge sigh.

‘Shall I reply?’

‘No. Leave him hanging on read. It’ll piss him off.’

Her eyes seem to change colour with anger, frustration, and I hate the way just a singular text is like a jab to the ribs and is so immediately affecting for her. There’s the immediate instinct to take that feeling away, to bring that other Zoe back in the room. ‘You OK?’

‘Who knows? I hate that he’s on my phone. The bloody gall of the man that he can end a text with a kiss, too. I’d rather kiss a wart-covered penis at this point.’

I put my piece of spicy chicken down. ‘Well… don’t do that. Shall I get rid of the message? Then the message isn’t there. Shall I block him?’

She slumps her shoulders. ‘No, I can’t be seen to be petty. Lawyer’s orders.’

‘Maybe you would feel better if I was on your phone?’ I ask her. I don’t know why I said that. It’s not like I’m going to go into her phone and beat the shit out of her husband, but it felt like the right thing to say.

‘You want to slide into my contacts?’ she enquires curiously.

‘For teaching emergencies. You know, just in case I ever run out of…’

‘Glue sticks?’

‘Well, there’s that, but it feels like you need to counteract the presence of the wanker with someone who…’

‘Isn’t a wanker?’

‘Who cares. Who you can chat to whenever you want. And who buys you chicken.’ She stops for a moment to look at me. I can’t tell if that’s confusion or amazement. ‘Can I be the anti-wanker?’

‘That sounds like something I’d use to clean my oven,’ she jokes.

‘I like you, Zoe, but I draw the line at doing your chores,’ I say, holding a hand to the air. She smiles. I carefully create my contact. THE ANTI-WANKER. She looks over while I do this, still unsure.

‘Can I also do something else?’ I ask her.

I pick up a napkin and wipe a smear of sauce that was on the underside of her chin. She blushes, realising it was there. But the contact unsteadies me, to feel her skin against my fingers, to focus on her eyes up close. Is this flirting? I don’t know, but there’s something about her that I like, that I can’t help but be drawn to, a light inside her that I want to get close to. Jack, I think you may have a crush.

FOUR

Zoe

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