Page 43 of The Friend Zone Experiment

But it was nice—looking at art and gossiping discreetly with Nathalie about the other museumgoers. Renee felt herself relaxing, her shoulders coming down from around her ears.

It sucked about her brother and Jason, but they didn’t matter. She had friends, people she could trust and be herself with.

In time, she cast up before a painting of a man and a woman, executed with extraordinary tenderness and delicacy. Renee had been drawn to the picture for the richness of their dress—the colours leapt off the canvas—but she lingered, struck by the couple’s expressions. The man had a hand on the woman’s bodice; her hand rested lightly on his, her rings gleaming.

She’d lost track of the others in the crowd, but Ket Siong joined her now. Renee didn’t speak straight away. Ket Siong liked having time to process things.

“It’s the hands I love,” she said, after a while. “They’re so beautiful.”

But when she glanced away from the painting, Ket Siong was gazing at her.

There was that look in his eyes again—the same look as when Renee had first showed up. Except she was beginning to suspect the meaning of his expression wasn’t that hard to decipher.

Flustered, she ducked her head.

“I wonder where Nathalie’s got to,” she said. Her voice sounded hurried and artificial. She turned to scan the crowd, and looked right in the face of international pop idol Jason Tsai.

Jason was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a face mask, but she’d seen him in this getup enough times that it only made him more recognisable. She did not recognise the younger woman hanging off his arm.

He hadn’t spotted Renee yet. She had the advantage. And Renee wouldn’t have got where she was today if she’d ever wasted an advantage.

She marched over to Jason, grabbed his free arm, and said pleasantly:

“We can talk, or I can make a scene. I’ve got a friend standing by with her phone and you know I’ve got a Weibo account. You decide, Jason.”

Jason managed to suppress his yelp, but the girl didn’t. Nathalie magically emerged from the crowd, took in the scene in a glance, and—bless her—whipped out her phone. It looked like she was recording.

Renee said dramatically, raising her voice and taking care to enunciate, “You were cheating on me all along?” She added in Mandarin, for good measure, “I trusted you!”

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk,” said Jason. “Just, not here.” He looked at his horrified companion. “Cherry, babe, give me a moment, OK? I can explain everything, I promise.”

Renee was already turning away.

“Come on,” she said.

On a Saturday morning there was not, in fact, anywhere in the National Gallery quiet enough for the kind of conversation Renee was planning to have with Jason.

Renee’s mistake was turning her back on Jason as she confirmed this. She heard Nathalie shout, “Hey!” And then Jason shot past them, legging it for the exit.

His girl’s expression as she watched her date leave her in the dust was a picture. It would have been funny if Renee wasn’t so busy kicking herself. Stupid,stupid—

“Jason!” she shouted.

Jason didn’t look back. They were on level two, a grand flight of stairs away from the ground floor entrance. He was heading down the stairs when Ket Siong barrelled past Renee, slid down the railing, and flung himself on Jason, knocking him off his feet.

Jason went down with a screech. The two men rolled down the stairs, catching up on a landing, Jason swearing all the way.

By the time Renee got to them, Ket Siong had Jason’s arms pinned and a knee on Jason’s back, holding him down.

“Oh my God, are you OK?” said Renee.

People were hurrying past them, giving them alarmed glances. Nathalie tripped down the stairs with her phone held aloft.

“Perfect!” she said brightly. “I think I caught all of that.” She smiled at a disapproving middle-aged white couple passing by. “We’re making a film. Amazing what you can do with phones nowadays.”

“No, I am not OK!” said Jason, his voice strained. “Who the hell is this guy? Get him off me!”

He bucked. Ket Siong shoved him down again.

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