The Feature

XVII

A/N: If you have not yet seen The Power of the Dog, please be aware this chapter contains a spoiler.

The world wasn't safer than I had thought; on the contrary, it was so dangerous that my practically naked self fit right in, like a car crash, it happened every day. Still, I had been waiting for this moment, and I marvelled at how organically it had arisen. I usually imagined poisoning myself or getting hit by a car. Someone official, a policeman or a nurse, would ask if there was anyone I wanted them to call. I would gasp his name-

"Lunch."

You stopped typing and pinched the bridge of your nose between finger and thumb, taking in a deep inhale.

"No thanks," you replied.

"It wasn't a question. Come on."

You glared up from your computer screen to see Nick standing beside you, a hand resting on the back of your chair as he waited. Your fingertips were settled on the keyboard, as if the words were stuck in them, biding their time until they could be set free.

"I don't want to eat," you said. "I just want to write. If I'm going to put this forward for an op-ed at the next meeting then I need to get it done."

You had done nothing but write for sixteen days straight, as if words had become your food, your sleep, your sex, your conversation. You refused to admit to yourself that this newfound motivation had come from missing Ben. Instead you would tell yourself you were simply inspired, keen to breathe life into your thoughts, craft something beautiful from a topic others may find unsavoury.

"Quinn, I could hear your stomach rumbling from across the bullpen," said Nick, reaching down and pressing 'save' on your piece, before switching off the computer screen. "Lunch."

You huffed. "I need to make some new friends. You're starting to get on my nerves."

"You? Make new friends?" He laughed. "I'd pay to see you try."

You got up and slung your bag onto your shoulder, hooking your coat over your arm as you reluctantly followed him to the lift.

"So where are we going?" you asked as the doors slid open on the ground floor.

"I was thinking that new bistro down the street," he replied as you walked out of the building together. "I took my mum a few weeks ago and they do this amazing girasoli with like pine nuts and shit, it's so good."

"Pine nuts and shit does sound good," you replied sarcastically.

The January cold made you suck the air in through your teeth, your entire body tensing as you quickly threw on your coat and hugged it tight around you. The streets were packed with people, dense crowds weaving in both directions, faces buried in phones, shoulders grazing as they passed one another. Nick was walking faster than you, making you huff and quicken your pace to keep up.  

"Do you ever just want to tell the world?" he asked.

"What?"

"Like when you're walking down the street like this, do you ever feel the urge to scream out loud 'I'm dating a world famous celeb'?"

"I'm not dating him," you replied. "In fact, I might not be anything to him when he gets back."

"I thought he told you he missed you?"

"He did. But... you can miss something and still not want it back, can't you. I mean, I miss the Doc Martens I used to wear when I was in uni, even though they tore the shit out of my feet and I'd rather go barefoot than ever wear them again. I still miss them."