Page 77 of When The Night Falls

I stayed in my room, checking my social media accounts. When I opened Instagram, I froze with surprise. I had received a message request from none other than William Night. It contained a meme of Leonardo DiCaprio biting on his fist from the filmTheWolf of Wall Street,with the text: ‘When you see her loading up the barbell with forty-fives’.

I had to laugh. Of course he would opt for nothing less than a grand entrance. But, despite his impeccable humour, I didn’t immediately accept. My first instinct was to decline, because I wanted to avoid interacting with him as much as possible. Still, I couldn’t deny that I was curious.

I clicked on his profile, but it was private; stalking it brought me no satisfaction. All I could see was his default picture, and it looked like it had been taken during some holiday. He was wearing a white linen shirt, smiling at the camera with sunglasses on, his hands tucked in the pockets of his light-blue shorts. Behind him was a picturesque village that looked like it could be somewhere along the coast of the Mediterranean.

Probably France, I thought. Daphné, his mother, was a child of French immigrants, though she was born and bred in England. I knew Jason and William frequently went to France because of that, since their maternal grandparents now lived there.

My body grew hotter when I thought back to the dinner with Jason’s family last weekend. I had heard William and Daphné speak French to one another then, and William’s pronunciation had sounded fluent to my ears, even though I didn’t speak a word of French myself. One way or another, hearing it had set my libido on fire, and I had despaired; whenever I thought William couldn’t possibly get any more tempting, he proved me wrong.

I stared at his locked profile, wishing I could see his grid so I could learn more about him. What kind of stuff did he post? Did he update it frequently? For some reason I doubted it, but I would have to follow him to know the answer. My pride wouldn’t let me, though, so I returned to his message request with some disappointment.

I had already acknowledged that I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, so accepting his request would mean speeding toward my doom. Had I learned nothing from the mistakes of Icarus? Was I really going to fly too close to the sun?

As I reclined onto my bed, I wondered why he had reached out. A demon whispered in my mind that I ought to accept, if only to uncover his motive. Besides, if he proved troublesome, I could always block him.

I responded with a meme of a girl squatting, with the text:‘When I hear, “No man wants a girl that’s stronger than him”, and I’m like, “Ain’t nobody looking for a weak ass man either” ’.

I waited one minute for him to see it, but since he didn’t, I locked my phone and went back to the others. I had only just sat down when a notification lit up my screen. I hurried to check it.

Haha that’s the spirit

How’s revising going? Getting frustrated yet?

His brilliant pun made me double-tap his last message, adding a heart to it. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he had referred to the doctrine of frustration, which was a common law doctrine relevant to Contract Law. After last Friday, he was well aware that I was currently revising for precisely that module.

Frustrated indeed. Nice pun

I think having lunch with me today might help you out of said frustration

I rolled my eyes. So that was his motive, was it? I had to give it to him: the man had remarkable perseverance. How many rejections would it take for him to understand that it wasn’t going to happen?

Do you? I am shocked

That would probably frustrate me more than revising ever could tbf

After I had pressed Send, I paused to reflect on what I had just done. Rejecting him was actually becoming a habit. I had hardly given a thought to it, and I found it fascinating. This was quite the contrast to the first time he had asked to meet me again. I vividly remembered how difficult it had been for me to reject him back then. I hadn’t been entirely sure that it was the right course of action. Now, on the other hand, I took his offer for granted. I was expecting him to ask again, and again, and again, until I perhaps one day changed my mind. I couldn’t be at all certain that his interest would be perpetual, and yet I conceitedly acted as though it would be. Maybe this had been the last time he would ask, and I had wasted my chance without a second thought.

You are ever pessimistic

I could take a look at your notes, for example. Help you get a first

All I’m suggesting is a normal lunch between two friends – nothing more, I promise

Friends. I stared at the word for a while. My heart took a deep dive in my chest, the beats growing stronger but slower. I read ‘friends’ as a rejection in disguise. The fall from my high horse was certainly a painful one. Was he seriously friend-zoning me?

We could never be friends, I thought bitterly, and we couldn’t for the simple reason that I didn’t lust after my friends the way I lusted after William. I would never be able to view him in a platonic light, and I was offended by the idea that it wasn’t mutual.

Or was it? Maybe he was just being devious. I had already noted his sly tendencies.

What was his scheme? I couldn’t read him. Was he writing to me in a genuine effort to befriend me, or was he looking to capture me once and for all? I really couldn’t tell. It was plausible he sought to be my friend because of our relationships with Jason. In the end, it was inevitable that our paths would cross for the rest of our lives, so perhaps he was simply trying to make the best of it, and he thought pursuing a friendship with me would be the way to achieve it.

Since I didn’t know what to think, I opted for an ambiguous, albeit humorous, answer inspired by one of my favourite comedies,The Inbetweeners. It was an image of the character Simon from the show, and he was holding his thumbs up while saying, ‘Oh, friend.’

Haha Simon. What a legend

Not sure I can be friends with a briefcase wanker

Bus wankers only?

---