Page 45 of You Belong With Me

Edie shrieked.

Elliot shook his head. ‘I hate him.’

‘You can’t negotiate with terrorists,’ Edie said, putting her coat on a chair.

She’d worked out the turnaround time between arrival and needing to be presentable was non-existent – though not as non-existent as Elliot would’ve made it – and had travelled party-ready.

‘Do I look good enough for this place?’ Edie said nervously, smoothing her dress and putting her hands on her waist.

(She was doing thewhat,this old thing?routine, although her low-cut velvet maxi dress with flutter sleeves, tight on the hips, had been selected only after three hefty online deliveries and a front room fashion show for her disapproving sister, who’d have attended in dunga shorts. Meg had declared: ‘Andrea Dworkin said women’s fashion is a euphemism for men’s fashion created for women. You are trussing yourself, in discomfort, for their gaze. Your power is illusory and heavily boundaried, like an Imperial concubine.’

‘And if I was oppressing myself for the benefit of their patriarchal gaze, which one would do the job best?’

‘The long midnight-blue one.’

‘Thank you.’)

Elliot looked her up and down now and said: ‘I don’t think this place looks good enough for you. You have no idea how much I’m regretting saying yes to my brother’s plans right now.’

Edie smiled and stepped towards him to kiss him on the cheek.

Elliot jumped away. ‘Don’tor I’ll choose the threesome with Ed Sheeran.’

Oddly enough, having threatened aural contraceptive guerrilla attacks, Fraser and Molly were nowhere to be seen when Elliot and Edie made it to the rooftop, the nocturnal London vista stretching out beyond its glass walls.

Elliot waved at familiar faces, but instead of approaching, he parked them at a cabana at the opposite end of the pool, away from the throng. They were unable to be overheard and could see anyone approaching, thus could have an express form of date before the rowdiness across the water enveloped them. Naturally, a waiter appeared immediately; it was that kind of place.

‘What was the Lillian call about? Seeing Jesus in the tea leaves?’ Edie asked, as she decorously moved the glacé cherry stalk to sip a Manhattan.

‘Oh no, was that super indiscreet of me? It actually wasn’t a conversation to be having in public, but I couldn’t wait to see you,’ Elliot said.

‘No, not at all, stayed very one-sided and gnomic. Hence you’ve intrigued me.’

‘You know I hatedThe Void, right?’

Edie nodded. One of their catch ups after their hiatus had been about how much Elliot loathed being the lead in a superhero big budget ‘tent-pole’ movie. He’d found it both stultifying in process and overwhelming in terms of responsibility.

(‘I thought of what George Clooney said: everyone told him he had to doBatmanbecause it was such a smart career choice – it bombed, and he found out everyone’s making it up as they go along. I’ve decided to do what appeals and sod what I’m being told to do for “profile”.’

‘Imagine Clooney being your careers adviser,’ Edie had said. ‘Mine was Mr Rumble, who told me to get shorthand and a shorter skirt.’)

‘OK, well,’ Elliot said now, ‘the plan for the publicity campaign, given I won’t sign for another, is to vague it out. Not commit to a sequel but kind of bland-positive “never say never”.’ Elliot paused, beer bottle to lips. ‘You know, that thing you say when it’s a no but you want to provide fake hope, instead of hard honesty and closure.’

It took a second for Edie to realise she’d been the victim of a British stabbing.

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Elliot smiled a small smile, but the resentment wasn’t feigned. Edie had still not grasped the extent of the hurt she’d caused him. She asked herself: if he’d said the same when detaching from her, would she have tried again? Hard no. But he was who he was. He was the chooser.

‘Wow,’ Edie said. ‘Fake hope. Yeah, no hope at all, none.’ She gestured at herself, the surroundings. ‘Welcome to Dumpsville. Population, not you.’

‘Only because I begged you.Twice,’ Elliot said.

‘Is it possible you’re not used to doing the running?’

‘Ah, there it is. If in doubt, call Elliot a conceited, prima donna wankboy.’

He grinned as his eyes slid towards her, and Edie tried to get a measure of this. It was definitely flirty play-fighting, but that didn’t mean he was using dummy bullets as ammunition.

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