NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | ✓

67: the great british cock-up

            I duck into the rain as Caleb yanks the hood of his jacket over his head. We parked a street away from the restaurant but the downpour that started halfway through our date is so ravenous we'll be soaked by the time we reach the car—or I will in any case: my jacket don't have a hood. Especially with Caleb pushing his chair at the speed he is.

Just as I'm about to ask if he wants help, he grumbles, 'Why do they always give you the bill?'

In my agitation to get out of the rain, I've walked far enough ahead that I have to turn around to see his glower.

'I also have money. The whole point of this dinner were for me to treat you but everyone always assumes you'll pay. Why can't they ever put the receipt in the middle of the table—that's what they do when me and Eilidh are on dates.' Caleb has halted entirely now though the water is pouring right into his trainers. He don't seem to be aware. 'Is it because they think I'm not a man?'

'What? Course not. You're the most handsome man I've seen. You look more like a man than I do. And you're always the sexiest person at the supermarket.'

He nods miserably. 'I am always the sexiest person at the supermarket.'

'And you have better facial hair than most cismen.'

'I do have better facial hair than most cismen.'

'Yeah.' I kiss his forehead, Caleb leaning into the touch. 'Not that it's any better but it's probably the chair. People are just wankers. It's nowt to do with ya.'

I pull him into a hug which he gladly reciprocates, squeezing me tight enough to pop my spine. 'You're the world's best friend.' After a beat of silence, he smacks me on the back without retreating from the hug. 'You have to repeat it.'

I smile into his shoulder. 'I'm the world's best friend.'

'That's right you are, baby girl.'

'Thank you for dinner.' It were my turn to pay but Caleb insisted on taking me on a date outside of our usual rotation. To make me feel better about Cece, I know.

'You're welcome.'

We are indeed soaked by the time we're in the car with Caleb's chair folded in the boot. I turn the key enough to ignite the battery so the heating comes on but I keep the engine off. The bluetooth connects automatically to my phone and resumes playing the Brockhampton album we started on the way here.

'By the way,' Caleb starts, his voice lacking his normal dramatics, 'is it okay if I skip February and pay you petrol money double in March? I've just proper stretched my budget for Drag Expo so I've not got loads extra right now. Which I know is super shit cause you've been teaching me to drive on top of driving me to work and all–'

'That's alright. Pay me whenever you've got the money.' Caleb, lover of spreadsheets that he is, budgets like no one else I know. I have zero worries about him forgetting.

Caleb smiles and I do my best to reciprocate it. I watch the digital seconds count through the outro to Palace and drop back to zero as the next song starts.

'I think I have to end things with Joe.'

Though Kevin Abstract continues to sing over the melancholic piano, the silence from Caleb is frigid. His stare prods my cheek but I keep mine on the speedometer until he drops his head against the seat rest.

'I knew this were gonna happen.' Still, the disappointment in his voice tastes like mould. It festers, spores itching the back of my throat until Caleb snaps his glare to me again. 'You know, we're all friends with her. And I told ya– I told ya this friends-with-benefits tomfoolery would be messy. Now it'll be messy for all of us. I just don't understand why you had to start the damn thing when we all knew you were gonna sabotage it anyway.'