Page 100 of Boyfriend Material
There was a little pause. Then Bridge asked, “How do you mean?”
“Like I’ve left the gas on.”
“Um. I’m sort of glad you can’t see my face now. Because I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I did that thing where you pull your knees and elbows in, and try to get so small you disappear. “Oh, you know. Like I’m going to come home one day and my whole world will have burned down.”
“Well”—she made a pained sound—“I don’t really know what to say to that.”
“That’s because there’s nothing you can say. It’s just the way it is.”
“Okay,” she announced, with the unwarranted confidence of a World War I general sending his men over the top, “I’ve got things to say.”
“Bridge…”
“No, listen. There is actually a choice here. And the choice is, either you never trust anybody ever again, and pretend that stops people hurting you when clearly it doesn’t. Or, um, don’t do that. And maybe your house will burn down. But, at least you’ll be warm. And probably the next place will be better. And come with an induction hob.”
I couldn’t tell whether Bridget’s strategy of distracting me from my problems by being odd was deliberate or not. “I think you’ve drifted from ‘giving me a pep talk’ into ‘advocating arson.’”
“I’m advocating taking a chance on a nice man who you’re clearly into and who’ll treat you well. And if you think that’s arson, then yay, arson.”
“But I’ve already dumped him.”
“Then undump him.”
“It’s not that—”
“If you say ‘It’s not that simple’ one more time, I’m going to get in an Uber, come over there, and poke you sharply in the ribs.”
I gave another weird weepy laugh. “Don’t call an Uber. Their business practices are unethical.”
“The point is, this is all fixable. If you want to be with Oliver, you can be with Oliver.”
“But should he be with me, though? I mean, he drove me all the way to Lancashire to see my dad, stood up to my dad for me, drove me all the way home again, and then I broke up with him through a bathroom door.”
“I agree,” conceded Bridget, “that wasn’t ideal. And you probably hurt his feelings quite badly. But, ultimately, whether he wants to be with you is his decision.”
“And you don’t think maybe he’ll decidenotto go out with the crying man in the toilet?”
“I think people surprise you and, really, what do you have to lose?”
“Pride? Dignity? Self-respect?”
“Luc, you and I both know you have none of those things.”
She’d made me laugh again—I was pretty sure it was her superpower. “That doesn’t mean I want to give Oliver Blackwood a chance to kick me hard in the feels.”
“I know you don’t. But from what you’ve said, he sort of deserves one. And, anyway, it might go well.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “that’s what they said about the invasion of Iraq.”
“We’re talking about asking a cute boy to give you a second chance. Not starting a war.”
“You have no idea how many second chances he’s already had to give me.”
“Which means he clearly likes you. Now go and tell him you’re sorry, and that you like him back, because you obviously are and you obviously do.”
“But I’ll fuck it up or he’ll not want to see me or—”
