Page 58 of Still Me
I started to laugh. “No. Not that. You’re great company.” I looked down at my feet. “I’m... not who I told you I was. I’m not Agnes’s friend from England. I just said that because she needed an ally at the Yellow Ball. I’m, well, I’m her assistant. I’m just an assistant.”
When I looked up he was gazing at me.
“And?”
I stared at him. His eyes had tiny flecks of gold in them.
“Louisa. This is New York. Everyone talks themselves up. Every bank teller is a junior vice president. Every bartender has a production company. I guessed you had to work for Agnes because of the way you were running around after her. No friend would do that. Unless they were, like, really stupid. Which you plainly are not.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“Hey. I’m just glad you’re not married. Unless youaremarried. That bit wasn’t a lie too, was it?”
He had taken hold of one of my hands. I felt my breath give slightly in my chest, and I had to swallow before I spoke. “No. But I do have a boyfriend.”
He kept his eyes on mine, perhaps searching to see whether there was some punch line coming, then released my hand reluctantly. “Ah.Well, that’s a pity.” He leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of his drink. “So how come he isn’t here?”
“Because he’s in England.”
“And he’s coming over?”
“No.”
He pulled a face, the kind of face people make when they think you’re doing something stupid but don’t want to say so out loud. He shrugged. “Then we can be friends. You know everyone dates here, right? Doesn’t have to be a thing. I’ll be your incredibly handsome male walker.”
“Do you mean dating as in ‘having sex with’?”
“Whoa. You English girls don’t mince your words.”
“I just don’t want to lead you down the garden path.”
“You’re telling me this isn’t going to be a friends-with-benefits thing. Okay, Louisa Clark. I get it.”
I tried not to smile. And failed.
“You’re very cute,” he said. “And you’re funny. And direct. And not like any girl I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re very charming.”
“That’s because I’m a little bit enraptured.”
“And I’m a little bit drunk.”
“Oh, now I’m wounded. Really wounded.” He clutched at his heart.
It was at this point that I turned my head and saw Nathan watching. He gave a faint lift to his eyebrow, then tapped his wrist. It was enough to bring me back to earth. “You know—I really have to go. Early start.”
“I’ve gone too far. I’ve frightened you off.”
“Oh, I’m not that easily frightened. But I do have a tricky day at work tomorrow. And my morning run doesn’t work so well on several pints of beer and a tequila chaser.”
“Will you call me? For a platonic beer? So I can moon at you a little?”
“I have to warn you, ‘mooning’ means something quite different in England,” I told him, and he exploded with laughter.
“Well, I promise not to do that. Unless, of course, you want me to.”
“That’s quite the offer.”
