Page 21 of Wish You Weren't Here
‘Erm, I think so,’ I reply, my mind still half in the meeting room.
‘Getting in late is a killer on the old memory,’ Steve says with a chuckle. ‘I’m making a shepherd’s pie for dinner tonight.’
‘Lovely,’ I reply. Well, there’s not much else you can say to that, is there?
‘I was thinking shepherd’s pie, a movie, a bottle of wine…’
‘God, you two are like an old married couple,’ Molly quips as she breezes past us.
‘I’m going out tonight, actually,’ I tell him, hoping to nip any ideas he has in the bud.
Steve’s expression changes, narrowing.
‘You’re seeing him, aren’t you?’
‘Steve…’
‘You are, I can tell,’ he says, his annoyance clear. ‘Why, Lana, why?’
I sigh, because this has come up before. Honestly, you’d think I was cheating on him. ‘Steve, we’ve talked about this,’ I remind him.
In hindsight, I should have known it was too good to be true when Steve, my ex, offered to let me move in with him. My old flatmate moved away, and I couldn’t afford to live there on my own, so it seemed like a lifeline at the time. We weren’t together that long, and it was last year when we were a thing, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. He was very clear when he said hewas helping me as a friend, with no strings attached. But now, it’s painfully obvious that he thought this would be the thing to get us back together.
It was subtle at first but now he just can’t hide it. Like, it was weird when he showed me to my room and it had a single bed in a spot that definitely looked like it had a double there until recently, but now he doesn’t even try to hide his jealousy. The sooner I can get enough money together to get my own place, the better. I need to get out as soon as possible.
‘I’m just seeing a friend tonight,’ I lie, hoping to defuse the situation.
He looks visibly relieved which makes me feel so awkward.
‘I’ll save you some dinner then, yeah?’ he says, his tone softening.
‘You don’t have to,’ I reply, trying to keep things light. ‘I’ll probably eat while I’m out.’
‘It’s all good, I’ll save you some,’ he reassures me. ‘And I’ll wait up for you.’
And this is why I can’t tell him that I have a date, because he’s intense and he’s weird, and if I ever felt inclined to use the Redflags app he would be the first person I added – or maybe the second.
Ah well, enough about exes, enough about the past, I need to focus on the future. Here’s hoping tonight goes well – and if he turns out to be a property developer with houses to spare then even better. But I’m not usually that lucky.
10
I’m sitting in a bar that’s trying very hard to be trendy, sipping on a cocktail, doing my best to enjoy my date – and not think about my ex waiting at home for me with a shepherd’s pie. I can just imagine him there, sitting by the door, fish slice in hand as the food goes cold, staring into space, waiting for me…
The man sitting across from me is Oliver, who has explained – twice now – that he’s a quantity surveyor (so sadly not a property magnate who is going to put me up in a penthouse) and no, I still don’t really understand what that is, but he didn’t explain it in an especially exciting way, so I figured we could just leave it at that.
I take a sip of my cocktail, which is as silly-looking as they come, but I’m into it. It’s bright pink, with an old-school umbrella, a slice of pineapple, and a cherry that’s impaled on a tiny plastic sword. It’s called a Big Retro and it’s certainly living up to its name – it’s delicious too.
Oliver, on the other hand, is sipping on a tonic water. When he first told me he didn’t drink, I’d assumed – because I’m a ridiculous person who maybe drinks too much – that it was because he’d had a problem in the past. But nope, he’s just not afan of drinking. There’s obviously nothing wrong with that, but I’m starting to realise that I might be a bit too fond of hanging out in bars and being silly for the two of us to hit it off.
Oliver has just been telling me about his hobbies and the top of the list appears to be playingFinal Fantasyvideo games, because he’s been telling me about them for, oh, I don’t know, (what feels like) six hours now.
‘…that’s why I thought I’d replay them all, in order,’ he continues. ‘Original consoles, obviously, unless there’s been a remake or a remaster, in which case I play it on the more current gen.’
‘Yeah, absolutely,’ I say, unsure what exactly I’m agreeing to.
‘The early games, especially, have this raw quality to them,’ he continues. ‘You can’t really replicate that feeling with modern technology. However, the remasters – well, some of them are good, but they lose the charm of the originals, even if the revamped textures and mechanics are far superior. It’s all too polished now. Except forFinal Fantasy VII, of course. But even then, I still like to go back to the original.’
‘Yeah, totally,’ I reply, still none the wiser, still no idea what a chocobo is – but he really seems to like them, so…
