Page 93 of Shout Out To My Ex

He visibly flinches. Clearly, he expected me to be grateful. And part of me is, I suppose, but I’m also tired of this constant turmoil. Ever since Leo Jones came back into my life: turmoil, confusion,havoc… My mind is ready with a plethora of adjectives to describe how it feels being with him – ornotbeing with him – tossing up words like a thesaurus on a trampoline.

Because other than when we’re working and I can focus on our designs, I’m wildly lurching between attraction, anger, and confusion. I look past him to find my team watching us from the other end of the workroom. Cassie’s still at the production meeting offsite, so the office is empty, and I stride towards the door, waving for him to follow. He does.

When he closes the door behind him, we end up staring at each other, him looking confused and me unsure where to start.

‘You can begin with why you’re pissed at me,’ he says, somehow reading my mind. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘I am.’

‘Right, of course, so you’repleasedbut you’re also pissed at me. I can’t win with you, Ellie.’

‘It’sElle, and what do you mean, you can’t win with me? What are you trying to win exactly?’

‘I just want?—’

‘What?What do you want?’

‘Oh my god, will you let me speak?’

So, it’s not just me who’s cross then.

‘Go on,’ I say.

‘I just want us to be able to work together in peace – I mean, we’re really good together.’

And there’s the (flipping bastard bugger arsehole) rub! Well, since he brought it up!

‘I have a question for you,’ I say.

He squares his shoulders, as if steeling himself.

‘Yesterday, at the museum… Whatwasthat?’

Now he’s obviously even more confused. ‘You mean, why did I take you there? Because I?—’

‘No, not that. That was… that was very thoughtful, taking me there,’ I concede. ‘That exhibit wasinspiringand it ties in nicely with our— Never mind. I’m not asking about that. I’m asking about themoment– you know, when you and I— Gah! Why is this so hard to say, and why are you looking at me like I’ve gone mad and you have no idea what I’m talking about?’

‘Because I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he replies steadily.

I regard him closely for any signs he’s being duplicitous and decide he’s not lying, he’s just obtuse. And then his entire countenance shifts.

‘Oh, right,’ he says, his voice low. ‘I think I know what this is.’

‘Youthink?’

He locks eyes with mine and we’re still for so long, this could be a showdown in an old Western – apt, I suppose, for a stand-off with a bloke from Texas.

‘Okay, I felt it too,’ he whispers hoarsely.

I step back involuntarily, as if this revelation has invaded my space. It’s certainly sucked all the oxygen from the air – or it feels like it has, as I’m having trouble breathing.

‘What?’ I say – an inane question but my mind, so quick to prove my vast vocabulary just moments ago, has gone numb.

‘You heard me. I felt it – of course I did.’

‘What do you mean, “of course”?’

‘Come on, Ellie.’ He drops his head and shakes it. I don’t even mind that he called me Ellie again. In fact, I kind of like it. But I would like this conversation a lot more if we could get to the crux of what’s going on between us.

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