Page 73 of We Used To Be Magic

‘What was his name?’ I ask. ‘I mean – it wasn’t Julian, was it?’

Demi looks up at me then, eyes intent.

‘Jonah,’ she says after a beat. ‘But someone told me a while back that he changed it to Julian. Julian Mars.’

Something inside of me goes cold, my skin prickling. Demi is still staring at me, and I hastily drop my gaze, dimly awarethat my hand is shaking as I take a final drag of my cigarette. I’m trying really hard not to jump to any stupid conclusions but lodged in my head is the memory of Audrey sobbing uncontrollably in the stairwell outside Julian’s apartment.

‘Was he—’ Demi begins, but I shake my head, dropping my cigarette.

‘I should go,’ I say, suddenly needing to be as far away from here as possible. ‘Have a good night – it was nice to meet you.’

‘I’m not so sure it was,’ she says quietly, and I don’t attempt to contradict her before I walk away.

AUDREY

EZRA WASOUTSIDE ONTHE PHONEFOR WHATFELT AVERY LONGtime last night. I paced circles around the gallery while I waited, trying and failing to plan my next move. If I just came right out and asked him who Edie was, would he realise that I’d sneaked a peek at his phone? And even if he did, wasn’t that better than not knowing? Or more specifically, not knowing who she was tohim? But I never got to find out – when he did eventually return he looked almost shockingly pale, and before I had a chance to say anything he announced he had a headache and asked if I’d mind us leaving early.

We didn’t talk about the kiss – we didn’t really talk at all in the taxi back to my apartment. He genuinely did look so unwell that I started to worry, tentatively touching his forehead with the back of my hand. He smiled and reached up to clasp it in his, but that was it – once we were out of the cab, he walked me to my door, told me to ‘sleep well’ and walked away. And I slept horribly, of course, but I’ve managed to disguise that with copious amounts of concealer. I wanted to look nice, today, whether this is a date or not.

‘One salted popcorn,’ Ezra says, sliding it towards me across the refreshments counter. ‘Do you want butter?’

‘… On the popcorn?’ I blink.

‘Yeah. It’s an American thing, I guess.’

‘Like … melted butter? Doesn’t that make it all greasy?’

‘Yeah. It’s gross, but I used to smother it in the stuff when I was a kid.’

‘Um …’

‘That’s a no if I ever heard one.’

‘That’s a no,’ I confirm, and he laughs. I feel myself relax at the sound of it – as relieved as I am that Ezra wanted to see me again so soon, the weirdness of how we left things yesterday is gnawing at me.

The girl behind the counter hands Ezra our bucket-sized Coke, and he grabs two straws before we head off in search of our screen. I crane my head as we walk, marvelling at what a time-warp this place is. The walls are red and lit with neon, the carpet luridly patterned and the ceiling inexplicably mirrored. It looks like it hasn’t been touched since the 1990s, and though I’m pretty sure it’s not the place that Ezra used to go to with his mum, I like it a lot.

We take seats towards the back of the auditorium. The theatre’s almost empty – unsurprising, seeing as it’s mid-afternoon on a weekday andThe Apartmenthas been out for about sixty years already. Ezra wedges the giant cup in the holder between us, forcing two straws through the lid. I take a piece of popcorn, chewing slowly as I watch him. He’s pale, still, eyes slightly bloodshot.

‘So – how are you feeling today?’ I venture.

Ezra frowns, shifting in his seat. ‘Um – remorseful, mostly. I’m very aware I owe you an apology.’

‘For what?’ I ask, hoping beyond hope that he’s not about to try and walk back the kiss. I think I’d cry, honestly. Or throw up. Or both.

‘The Maggie thing, for starters.’ He sighs, angling his body towards mine. ‘Genuinely, I was excited for you to meet her. But then I went and made things weird.’

‘Oh,’ I manage. ‘When her fiancé called me Edie, you mean.’

‘Yeah,’ he says after a beat. ‘Uh – I guess that when she said I could have a plus one, I didn’t tell her I was bringingyouspecifically. I mean – she’d never met you and I didn’t know if you were going to be free, so – that. But she assumed I was bringing someone else, so …’

‘Someone else being Edie,’ I clarify.

He nods. ‘She’s my ex-girlfriend. We went to school together and she moved to New York recently. Maggie knew that, so …’

‘So … you guys hang out?’

Ezra’s expression flickers, and I immediately regret asking.

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