The Show Must Go On

Chapter Thirty-Five: Who'd Have Known

Chapter Thirty-Five Soundtrack: Who'd Have Known by Lily Allen

Coming out of a slow, introspective weekend isn't easy. I feel like I've been stretched and cracked, bent into shape by a violent masseuse, except emotionally. It's weird. Good, I think? But weird. Luckily I'm working from home, because Joanna is already pissing me off. Another long day of poorly spaced texts. She's now messaging me on LinkedIn, repeatedly telling me to check my texts, all of which are just asking for more money. I have literally run out of ways to say 'Tell your agent to formally ask me'.

I also have a date tonight, which isn't helping the nerves.

A Monday night dinner date, which is... unusual. But, as Mei pointed out, probably means it's actually dinner, and not a thin excuse for a one night stand. And it gives me an opportunity to leave early if there's no chemistry. Tomas even texted me at lunch to confirm, which was charming.

Work grinds today. It's gone five and I'm still cranking through emails. And I can't ask for Nas's help with Joanna, because—

Because?

Why shouldn't I have help if I need it?

Joanna is the asshole, not me, and I deserve help and support if I want it.

I deserve to be treated well.

God, this kind of therapy woo-woo made me roll my eyes before. Now, it's like a mantra. I deserve to be treated kindly, and to say yes to dates, and if I need Nas's help, I'm going to ask for it confidently. After all, he's my colleague and (sort of) my friend. I deserve to have friends and he can only be my friend if I let him.

I text him the issue and he replies almost immediately.

Joanna is the worst. I'm at the pub with some mates. Do you want to join? Can discuss over a round.

My mantra is really working.

I can do this. I don't mean that in an insecure, self-doubting way. I really can do this. I can be friends with Nas, and firmly refuse Joanna, and then go on a date with a really hot scientist.

And crucially, I can stop Nas from hurting me again.

One day, I will think that last thought without a knife of disappointment in my chest.

Nas will only disappoint me if I let him. But I won't let him. I will be his friend and nothing more.

He's sent me a pin for the pub's location, only a few streets away. As I walk in, I twist my ring over and over on its chain. It rubs against my collarbone and I know I'll have a rash in the morning.

Why am I so nervous? Joanna's winding me up still—in fact, there's my phone vibrating again. Insistently, probably with another demand from her.

But as I look around the crowded bar, I don't care about Joanna. Right now I couldn't pick her out of a line-up. Only one face is on my mind. As I look for it, the feel of those lips flashes through my mind again and my stomach clenches.

Oh. This is bad. This is so, so bad.

It's not too late to leave. One quick text and my problem is solved. My cowardly hands are already reaching for my phone.

Then his hand touches my back.

'Hi,' Nas murmurs in my ear.

'Hi.' I turn to face him. No one should look like him. Evolution has gone too far. When he's looking at me like this it's like my body can't contain me.

I'm still staring at him. I have been staring for so long that it probably seems like I've had an aneurysm, which, maybe I have? Because my eyes will not move. It's weirder not to say anything but nothing I say could make this not weird.

'I came to the pub,' I tell him.

'Right,' he says. He's unconvinced. 'Rum and coke?'

'With a lime,' I reply automatically. His eyebrow twitches. He knows that, of course. The bartender appears, summoned by his eerie charisma.

'My friends are back there,' he tells me. His mouth twitches on 'friends', like a little kid showing off a Christmas present. I can't resist smiling back.

'What are they like?'

'William kind of sucks,' he says, 'but he's harmless. Olivia won't stop complimenting you, and it will feel insincere, but she means it so just say "thank you". Ian is quiet but super smart, like properly a genius.'

'How do you know them?'

'School. I got back in touch with them recently.' He flushes. 'I thought they'd be weird about my, like, fame or whatever, but it's been fine.'

'Maybe you're not as famous as you think.'

'Eleanor, my fame would rock your world.'

He pays for the drinks and steers me back through the crowded pub.

I pat down my hair and pull at my collar as he walks. I'm wearing a Date Outfit for later tonight, with a low-cut blouse and a skirt which flashes the lacy top of the stockings with each step. Will Nas notice?

I don't care if he notices.

He notices. He audibly gulps.

Good. He can choke on it.

Three thirty-somethings are curled in a booth at the back of the pub. They're deep in conversation: there's a loud East Asian man with a neon shirt (William?), a bearded man beside him with long dreads (Ian?), and wedged between them a redhead who's already beaming at us (Olivia).

'What, no drinks for us, Nas?' asks the loud man (definitely Ian), and William rolls his eyes and says, 'I think you've had enough, mate.' He shoots me a conspiratorial look as Ian objects, loudly.

'Everyone, this is Eleanor,' Nas says as he slides in beside them.

'Ellie,' I correct him.

'Hi, Ellie,' they chorus.

'Your hair is so gorgeous!' Olivia gushes.

'Oh,' I hesitantly touch it, but then remember Nas's warning. 'Thanks. I love yours too.'

'Wine?' she asks. A few bottles in various states of depletion clutter the table. She wipes the rim of a clean-ish glass and slides it over.

'Sure.'

'White? Red?'

'Whatever's open,' I say at the same moment Nas says, 'White.'

I only drink white. He's watching me again. He knows I know he knows that. Olivia stares back and forth between us and then, with a huge grin, pours me an overflowing glass of white wine. I sip it with burning cheeks.

'So Ellie,' she asks, 'do you know anything about love?'

*

one thing about me is i love an awkward pub interaction!