Page 15 of Last Night

‘You wanted to know the deal in advance. What if I recoiled?’

‘You coulda asked. I’ve never known a girl ask for nut fuzz though, hahaha.’

‘I bet you’ve never known a girl ask for anything in terms of personal grooming, maybe think on that.’

‘Shhhhh!’ Zack’s eyes fly wide open. He puts a finger to his lips and jabs an index finger at the ceiling above. ‘Linda,’ he mouths.

I strain to listen … I can hear a soft tapping noise.

I need a decisive exit.

‘Alexa, play “Looking for Linda” by Hue and Cry, VERY LOUD,’ I say, before slamming out.

5

Being in love with someone you can’t have is misery.

Please note: this is not the same as ‘being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back’ because 1) Ed does love me back, or he did, I will show receipts, and 2) while that would sting hard, I am guessing, when it’s unrequited, sooner or later an emotional survival mechanism kicks in and you stop howling at the moon.

Nature wants you to pull through, and procreate. It dials down the heartsick hormones. When feelings are flying in both directions, you’re sunk. Or, I am.

I’m not unique, but it’s not something people talk about, not ending up with the one you wanted. Once you’re settled down, it’s unsayable. It’s expressed in our music, books and films instead.

What’s that quote?Ninety-nine per cent of the world’s lovers are not with their first choice. That’s what makes the jukebox play.

There’s a nice lie that the world likes to tell us all, which is:it’s never too late. It’s too late, all the time, for loads of things. We should all be hurrying like the rabbit with the pocket watch inAlice In Wonderland.

I think the truth is: opportunities in life are like doors flashing open and slamming closed, for good. You won’t necessarily notice when they’re open, or get any warning they’re going to close. If you don’t bolt through them when you can, then that is that.

But no one wants to hear that your chance at happiness is time-sensitive. There’s very little interest in handling the truth that, sometimes, the diem is no longer the right one to be carped. There’s no inspo meme value to that, nobody’s going to put it in a curly font next to a soaring eagle.

The story of myself and Ed Cooper is a door opening and closing.

Susie and I were newly minted sixth formers, loafing in the common room. He and Justin wandered in during a free period, one sunny afternoon. I’d only been ever vaguely aware of them as presentable members of the male species, in our large comprehensive.

I was curled up with my Doc Martens carefully dangling off the upholstery, trying to concentrate onTuesdays With Morrie. Susie was lying with her back against me, reading her horoscope out fromHeatmagazine. It was an auspicious day for Aries.

‘Hi. We don’t know you, but you both seem significantly less noisy than everyone else here. Mind if we sit with you?’ Justin said. ‘I’m gay so I’m no threat. He’s not gay,’ he gestured at Ed, ‘but let’s face it, he’s no sexual threat either.’

Susie and I guffawed, and space was made. We didn’t know it yet, but in a single moment, our two double acts had merged forever.

Justin and Ed were good together, Ed as straight man, but both of them very droll in that way boys are when they’ve spent a lot of time practising.

Ed said, pointing at my book: ‘Are you enjoying that?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well, it’s sad, but it’s interesting.’

Susie rolled her eyes and said: ‘Eve has a morbid nature. She likes songs without choruses, all hole-dwelling, vole-like creatures, Mafia-widow fashion, wet weather and books about people dying of rare illnesses.’

‘It’s not depressing, it’s full of uplifting wisdom about making the most of your time!’ I say.

‘I said I felt depressed once and you said I wasn’t a deep enough person to be depressed,’ Susie said, and everyone howled. I said: ‘Oh God, sorry.’ (This was a good explainer of why Susie and I work: pithy in our different ways, but we never took the other one’s mockery seriously.)

We had a conversation about middle names and Ed’s was ‘Randall’. I said: ‘Edward Randall Cooper. You sound like a 1930s newsreader.’

I mimicked a stiff, buttoned-up posh male voice:‘Hello we are in crisis, the King has abdicated, long live the King I am Edward Randall Coopergood night, God bless you all.’

‘Didn’t I say the one who looks like a cross between Little My fromThe Moominsand Winona inHeatherswould be sassy?’ Justin said to Ed, and Ed grinned at me.

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