Page 88 of Midnight in Paris

Sophie’s hands felt hot. ‘Not really. We’re just friends!’ She thought about the kiss. About how, when she was with Will, she felt different; lighter.

‘Sure about that?’ Libby’s eyebrow rose in a teasing challenge.

‘Seriously,’ she said, her voice coming out more sharply than she expected it to. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Sorry,’ Libby said, chastened.

‘No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just everyone seems to be sure we’re getting together. And I like Will, I do. A lot. It’s just… it doesn’t seem right somehow.’

‘In what way?’

‘Come on, Libby. Tom’s… well, it’s only been two years. And they used to be best friends.’

‘OK,’ Libby said. Then, nodding at the barman, ‘Plenty of options if you’d rather someone brand new,’ she quipped. ‘Do you want me to get his number for you?!’

‘Libby!’ she said, half infuriated, half laughing. ‘No, thank you.’

Libby shrugged.

‘Anyway, what about you?’

Libby put a hand on her chest, dramatically. She was wearing electric blue nail polish, Sophie noticed, set with little silver gems. ‘Me?’ she said.

‘Yeah. Anyone on the horizon?’

A little shake of the head. ‘Nobody worth talking about.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sophie wheedled.

Libby looked uncharacteristically serious. ‘OK. Maybe,’ she said. ‘There’s been someone. Recently.’

‘Ooh!’ Sophie leant forward, interested. ‘Tell me everything!’

‘Well, he’s nice. It’s just…’ She picked up a beer mat and started to tear off the corner.

‘What, skeletons in the closet? Weird job? Funny looking?’ Sophie teased.

Libby shook her head. ‘No, it’s me.’

‘Oh. Just not sure?’

Another shake. ‘Fuck it. OK. Well, if you must know, I’m nervous. You know about… getting too serious.’

‘Nervous? You?’

Libby’s eyes were shining. ‘Oh, I know. I put on a veneer. Loud Libby, jokey Libby. And I am, I guess. But… I do worry sometimes.’

‘About getting hurt?’

‘One way or another. I mean you had Tom. And…’ she trailed off. ‘Stupid of me.’

Sophie grabbed her hand. ‘No! Not stupid. It’s… it’s normal to be a bit scared.’

‘You think?’

‘It means that you actually care about something, if you’re frightened to lose it.’

Libby nodded. ‘Maybe.’

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