The six-month housemate

Forty

FORTY

Superstition isn't my thing at all. Whether it's Friday the 12th or Friday the 13th doesn't really make a difference: it's all up to the "if"s and "but"s of life. So Friday the 13th came around, and I didn't really double check the date. It was just the last day of the week, and although I hadn't been particularly busy, I couldn't be happier to reach the weekend.

I came back from Uni at around 2pm, exhausted by the three hours of lectures I'd just had. That never ceased to amaze me: just a year before, I had ten hours of class per day, every day, which made it difficult to imagine I could be tired after only a third of that time. I still had plenty of time before my date with Henry, so I went straight to my room and lazed about. We were meeting in the bar we'd met in the second time we'd seen each other, at 7pm.

At 5pm, I started getting ready, being completely bored. I chose a plain backless black dress, over which I threw a long silver cardigan. This evening felt important to me, though I couldn't say why. It wasn't an anniversary or anything. Just a casual date. Still, I spent an hour on my makeup and my hair, going for a simple updo from which curls overflew, and silver eyeliner with red lips.

At half past six, I grabbed my coat and bag, and went downstairs. I was wearing heels tonight. Alex was in the living room when I arrived in the hallway, and when he lifted his eyes from his book, he didn't look down again. He got up and leant against the doorframe.

"Someone looks fancy tonight." He smirked. "Are you sure you're only going to that bar? Because your attire suggests something a lot more posh."

"Thank you. The thing is, I don't know what we'll be doing. And I'd rather be overdressed than underdressed."

"Fair enough."

I let out a little laugh, while he looked at his watch.

"Wait, it's cold outside, are you sure you want to leave now? You'll probably be freezing by the time he arrives." He frowned.

"Henry is always early. And if this time he's not, it doesn't really matter, I'll go and wait for him inside. It would probably make sense to save spaces somewhere inside anyway, there's bound to be plenty of people coming for their Friday night pint." I shrugged.

"If you say so."

"I do."

I wrapped my scarf around my neck, and picked my bag up.

"Enjoy your evening!" I kissed Alex on the cheek, and opened the door.

The cold air made me shiver a bit as I went down the couple of steps to get to street level, but once I started walking, it was less bad. At least it wasn't raining. I made my way through Mayfair, my heels echoing in the empty streets. Some lights were on in the huge houses, revealing who was still at work, and which families were starting to prepare for dinner. London by night had a particular mood that I loved: unlike Paris, wandering alone, at any time, didn't make me anxious.

I arrived a quarter of an hour early, so I decided to go inside to wait, and maybe go back outside ten minutes later. The warm air wrapped around me as I entered; there were less people than I expected, still all the tables were occupied so I made my way to the bar and stood in a corner, trying not to be noticed. A group of businessmen were busy ordering drinks, partially hiding a couple who were passionately making out. I smiled, and looked at my watch. Still nine minutes to go, and I would be with my boyfriend too.

The businessmen left, leaving the couple in open sight. She was leaning against the bar, her long blonde hair stroking it lightly. He leant into her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other on the small of her back. I didn't mean to stare, but I just couldn't look away. There was something wrong in what I was seeing; there was something familiar, too familiar about him. I knew that profile. I'd often woken up next to it and admired it. My fingers had been tangled in that smooth chestnut hair before. I had seen that sweater in a store, bought it, for him. And her. British girls tend to wear close to nothing when going out, winter or not. "You understand, the coat-check is expensive" they say, sipping a £5 vodka-soda. And she was no exception: had I not known better, I would have thought she was wearing a slightly oversized t-shirt and tights. But it couldn't be... It made no sense... My body filled with dread as he broke off, stroking her cheek and sweeping my doubts in a single movement.