Page 20 of The Life Experiment
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you,’ he rushed. ‘Sorry, forget I said anything.’
Angus backed away, so focused on his humiliation that he didn’t take in his surroundings. Knocking into the table behind him, he sent a jar of cutlery tumbling to the floor where it inevitably smashed.
The sound alerted people to Angus’s epic failure. He felt their eyes on him, cold and calculating as they assessed the situation.Who is that man? Is he harassing that woman?
‘I’m so sorry,’ Angus said, flustered, as the barista approached with a brush. She batted his apology away, but her kindness only made the moment cut deeper. As hot, sticky shame prickled Angus’s skin, his body twisted to flee, but then he heard a voice.
‘Wait!’
Turning, Angus’s gaze met hers. The woman’s brows were still furrowed, but she nodded to the chair opposite. ‘You can sit.’
Angus moved quickly, sinking into the seat in one fluid movement. Finally, he allowed himself to breathe. ‘Thank you.’
‘Well, I couldn’t have you knocking into more tables, could I?’
Angus couldn’t tell if the woman was joking or not. Her face remained serious. He was about to ask if she was okay when a waitress set down his cappuccino. ‘Thank you,’ he said. By the time he managed to get the words out, she was gone.
Picking up his drink, Angus forced himself to take a sip. The cappuccino scorched his tongue. Fighting a grimace, he placed it back down. That’s when he noticed the mug encased in the woman’s delicate hands. Its contents were barely touched.
‘Did you not like it?’ he asked.
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘Your drink,’ he said, nodding at the mug. ‘Did you not like it?’
‘Oh. Something like that.’
Angus studied the woman. Up close, he could see the finer details of her face. Her lips were full, but the bottom one was bigger than the top, making the balance of her mouth ever so slightly off. There was a small scar beside her right eyebrow. Angus wondered how she came to have it. He hoped one day he might find out.
Suddenly, the woman pinned Angus to his chair with her gaze until his stammering broke the silence.
‘I’m Angus, by the way.’
Her lips flicked into a wry smile. ‘That’s a posh name. Are you posh?’
‘No,’ Angus replied. One simple word, one enormous lie.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure? You seem like the men I work with.’
‘Are they posh?’
‘Oh, the poshest. But none of them have hair as posh as yours.’
It took everything in Angus not to touch his hair. ‘What kind of hair is that?’
‘Hair like a blond Hugh Grant. The poshest hair of all.’
As the woman giggled, Angus lit up. ‘As flattered as I am by that comparison, I’m afraid there’s nothing Hugh Grant about me. I’m just… well, I’m just me.’
‘You’re just you. Well, I guess that makes me just me. Whoever that is, anyway.’ At that, the woman laughed again, but this time it wasn’t a happy sound. ‘So, Mr Not-Posh-But-Looks-It. Humour me. Do you think people are happier if they’re rich?’
The question floored Angus, partly because it was unexpected, but mostly because it was one he searched for an answer to most days. ‘You ask deep questions, don’t you?’
The woman shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m tired of wasting time with nonsense.’
‘I know what that’s like.’
The corner of the woman’s mouth dragged into a smile. ‘In that case, I can’t wait to hear your answer.’
