Page 7 of Away With You
He bounds down the stairs with the enthusiasm of a puppy and I watch until he’s out of sight before closing the door and resting against it with a sigh. A sigh of ‘What the heck just happened?’
When the universe provides no answers to my silent question, I push away to find my phone. It’s time to get my Friday night back on track, starting with ordering my takeaway curry and my much-loved chicken biryani. Time to pack away allthoughts of a certain F1 driver and his delectable bottom lip to examine another day.
CHAPTER 3
KATIE
The next morning, I wake still full from my Indian feast the night before and still reeling from my encounter with Nathan. What would have ordinarily been a reunion worthy of many revisits in my mind felt like so much more because we talked about my mum. And it’s been a really long time since I’ve done that with anyone.
“Katie? Are you decent?” It’s Jade, my next-door neighbour and the closest thing I have to a best friend, letting herself in using her ‘in case of emergency key.’ I gave it to her a few months after I moved into the building, after she’d bulldozed her way into my flat and my life, and she’s been walking in and out of my place willy-nilly ever since.
I kinda love it.
“Define decent,” I mutter around my cup of tea.
Jade bounces over to where I’m lingering in the kitchen, contemplating whether to skip breakfast. She grabs her favourite mug and fills it up.
“What’s new?” She asks this every time she sees me as a bit of an inside joke. Because I never have anything new to report.Unlike Jade, who lives a hectic life filled with yoga classes, hip hop dance lessons and a full roster of friends to see, I live a life on the quieter end of the scale. I go to work, I feed Nuke, and I watch a lot of TV. It’s a peaceful life. It’s also boring.
“Do I have a story for you.”
Her dark brown eyes widen in surprise, and I get a thrill from it. Not only do I have a story to tell, but I have the story to end all stories to tell.
“Spill,” she orders, cradling the mug in her hands as she walks to the couch. I follow along, chuckling at the mug she’s chosen:You’re <0.05.
Classic.
“So, do you want the short version or the long version?”
She squints her eyes at me, pointing a finger complete with a long orange nail in my direction. “Long version. Always the long version.”
Smiling, I sink back against a cushion and pull a throw blanket over my legs for maximum comfort. My flat is small and well-insulated, but come December time, there’s always a chill in the air. Even with the heater up full blast.
“Have I ever told you I went to school with Nathan Jackson?”
“Youwhat?” Tea dribbles from her mouth as she gasps for air. Her model-worthy cheekbones turning a deep shade of red.
Excellent. Exactly the reaction I wanted.
“Yeah. It was no big deal. It was only one year before he disappeared into racing. And”—I put my hand up as her mouth opens, to ask a billion questions by the expression on her face—“And last night I bumped into him.”
“Where? Here? In Brixton?” she squeaks.
“No, in Clapham. He helped walk me and my oranges home. Don’t ask.” I make a face, still mortified by the whole thing.
She inches closer to me, flinging her long, jet-black braids over her shoulder in a move I know as ‘I mean business.’
“Are you telling me this man”—she takes her phone from the front pocket of her fire-engine red overalls, which she’s paired with a butter-yellow turtleneck underneath—“you’re telling me,this man”—her phone is now millimetres from my face—“was in our building and you didn’t think to invite me over to say hello? Express my undying adoration? Ask him to marry me?”
I ignore her deranged ramblings, focusing instead on the photo of Nathan on her screen. She’s picked a good one. He’s all hot and sweaty after a race, his golden hair plastered to his temples, his mouth stretched into his world-class grin. Tracing my finger over his delightful cupid’s bow, I wonder again that this man had, mere hours ago, been sitting on this couch, drinking my tea and talking about my mum.
It's so surreal.
“It happened in a blur,” I explain when she runs out of puff. “Before I knew it, he was at the door. And then I had to hide all my laundry. Period underwear,” I divulge.
She blanches, and I nod.Awful.
“And then he was drinking tea.”
