Page 37 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“By ‘good’ I mean you held your own alongside four heavyweights of literature. You didn’t embarrass yourself.” Will narrows his eyes. “Though you were touching your crotch a little too much. You need to find something to do with your hands.”
“I was not,” he says, lowering his voice, and I grin because even though he knows I’m joking, I’ve successfully planted thetiniestseed of doubt.
“Will, darling, that was gorgeous!” I turn to see a woman about my age in a sleek dress and heels lean in to air-kiss him.
“Hi,” Will says, brushing a hand through his hair. The woman glances toward me and Will holds out a hand to introduce us. “Hen, this is a colleague of mine atBath Living, Anna Appleby. Anna, Henrietta Stone, editor of theCity Book Review.”
“Hi.” I raise my hand in a little wave.
She looks me up and down, then says, “Anna Appleby, well, isn’t that a name for journalism.”
“Yes, or porn,” I say with a laugh, but as soon as it’s out of my mouth I see I’ve misjudged the tone of the conversation.Why did I say that?Of all the words not to be saying in the first thirty seconds of meeting someone, “porn” would be up there.
“Indeed,” Henrietta says, giving me a thin smile, while Will covers his mouth and feigns a cough. “You’re not the pretty little reason we couldn’t get Will to leave Bath, are you?”
Will shakes his head, his cheeks flushed. “Um, no. This isn’t her.”
“We offered him an editorial position, but he wouldn’t move to London. Said matters of the heart were keeping him in Bath. Such a waste of talent. Look at him!” She reaches out to squeeze his cheek. “You rarely get a brain like his in a package like that.”
“It wasn’t the right time,” Will says, removing her hand from his face, then tugging at the collar of his shirt. I’ve never seen him look so flustered.
“These openings only come up once in a blue moon, you have to make your career a priority.” She’s still looking at me, and I nod reflexively. “I’m sure you’ll be snapped up if you’re really back on the market,” Hen tells him, reaching out to straighten his shirt lapel. “Do a few more events like this. Pull yourself out of that backwater before you drown.” Then she kisses him on the cheek while simultaneously seeing someone she knows behind him, calling, “Stanley!” as she hurries away without saying good-bye.
“Backwater?” I mouth. Will avoids my gaze and tugs at an earlobe. I suddenly have so many questions, but before I can askany, we’re interrupted by two teenage girls who want Will to sign their program. He does so graciously, and I tingle with delight at the amount of ammunition that has just been handed to me.
“Do you want to get some food?” he asks, turning back to me.
“Only if you sign my napkin afterward,” I say, unable to resist. He glares at me, but his mouth twitches. As we walk away from the marquee, I ask him, “So are you going to tell me why you turned down a job at theCity Book Review?”
“If you tell me why you’re so annoyed that I did this panel,” he says. His strides are so long, I need to power walk just to keep up with him, but then he notices and slows his pace.
“I’m not annoyed,” I sigh. “It’s just, if someone called the office looking for a local journalist, I usually cover arts and culture—”
“They wanted me. It’s my contact,” he says matter-of-factly.
“In the meeting, you said someone cold-called the office. That wasn’t true?”
“No, I put myself forward for it. I just didn’t want Jonathan to think I was looking around for other work. I’d like to do more stuff like this in the future—interviews, on-screen reporting. I didn’t know you were looking to do that too.”
“I don’t. I’m not.” I blush, feeling stupid and petty. “I could never do what you just did. It’s just with the column and then this, it feels like we’re covering a lot of the same ground. If anyone is going to be made redundant—”
“You’re feeling threatened. I understand,” Will says. He stops walking and turns to face me. I pause too and look up at him. His eyes flicker across my face, lingering on my lips, and now my gaze settles on his. In my belly, a tiny roller coaster freewheels down a bend and spins into a loop-the-loop. It unbalances me, like an intrusive thought, a sensation I don’t want to be feeling. I break eye contact and turn to keep walking.
After a few steps I say, “When they were little, I took my kidsto the playground. There was this boy on our street who was always there, James Bailey. Every time Ethan wanted to go on the swings, James would jump on the swings, then Ethan would head to the slide, and this kid would start walking up it, to stop him from going down. So then Ethan goes to the monkey bars, and there’s James, lying on top of them. You’re that kid. You’re James Bailey.”
Will laughs out loud, a warm burst of sound. “What ride is it you want to go on, Anna?” he asks, all smooth flirtation.
“Oh please, don’t try and flirt your way out of this. You know you’re doing it. You’re trying to prove you can do my job better than me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he says, his voice silken. I’m carrying a heavy tote bag full of books, which Will wordlessly takes from me, slinging it onto his shoulder as though it weighs nothing.
“I can carry my own books,” I protest.
“Well, I can’t walk at this pace. Come on, I’m hungry.” Even in an act of chivalry, he manages to be rude. I don’t even know why I’ve agreed to go to dinner with him, when I could be ordering takeout and watchingEmily in Parisin my hotel room. But now my curiosity has been piqued. I want to know who he was so in love with that he couldn’t bear to leave Bath.
—
Will chooses aThai restaurant with dark wooden walls and dim lighting. There are red paper lanterns strung from the ceiling and a mosaic of the Buddha along the back wall. A handful of other diners are already eating, but it’s quiet and the waiter quickly finds us a table. Once we’re settled, Will looks across at me, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I finally get you to have dinner with me. Shall we count this as a date? Write it up for the column—two sides of the same evening?”
