Brew Books

Chapter 30

I am sweaty and red-faced walking up the stairs after a run, when Harper swings out of the door of his flat. He's always moving in big, jumpy jerks - he's like an excitable labrador.

'Jane,' he says, beaming when he sees me, even though I must look terrible.

'Oh god, I'm a disgusting sweaty mess,' I laugh. 'Please don't judge me.'

'Hey, this is a judgment free zone,' Harper says. 'And you look fine, trust me.'

I roll my eyes. And then I remember that I've got the perfect guess of his book. I've been thinking about it since he guessed Anna Karenina, and I remembered that Will once said he'd recommended Tolstoy to Harper, and he'd loved it.

'I've got a guess,' I say.

Harper leans against the wall and crosses his arms. A sly grin creeps across his face. 'Go on, then.'

'War and Peace,' I say boldly, and instantly Harper's expression changes. His grin drops for a second, and then comes back, broader than ever.

'Well,' Harper says.

'That's it, isn't it?!'

Harper's cheeky expression says it all. 'Well, I'd say that's been my favourite book for the past few years, at least. Good guess, Jane. You got it. It only took, what, a few weeks?'

I roll my eyes. 'You still haven't guessed mine.'

'Ah,' Harper says. 'That's where you're wrong. I've known your favourite book since day one. I've just been playing along, because I like this little game we have.' He smirks.

'Okay,' I say, narrowing my eyes. 'What is it, then?'

'Jane Eyre,' he says, instantly. 'You were initially attracted to it because of the titular character, of course. And you love the story of Jane and Mr Rochester. You identify a lot with Jane, and you struggle a lot with the Bertha plot line.'

I consider arguing against him, or pretending he's not completely right, but it's true. Harper has seen through me.

'Fine,' I say. 'But I still win.'

'Okay, you win,' Harper says. 'Now, I have a prize for you. For guessing my favourite book, you have the honour and privilege of accompanying me, this Friday night, to a gig of this indie band I like. Do you accept?'

'Just you and me?' I ask.

Harper smiles. 'Bien sûr!'

'I don't speak any French, Harper,' I say. 'I took Italian in school.'

'Ah, sorry,' Harper says. 'I've gotten into the habit of speaking a bit of French with Charlotte when I can.'

I swallow. I hate him mentioning Charlotte. I cross my arms over my chest, and Harper must realise his mistake.

'But I want to take you to this gig,' Harper says. 'If you want?'

'What band is it?' I ask.

'Guess,' Harper says.

I laugh. 'No more guessing games.'

Harper rolls his eyes. 'Fine, then it'll be a surprise. Anyway, I've got to go. And I think you need a shower.' He winks at me, and I pretend to look offended.

Harper jumps down the stairs, and I listen to the sound of him leaving the flat. I take a moment to collect my thoughts before opening the door to my own flat, to go in and shower.

The flat is still empty when I get out of the shower, and as I walk down the hall to make myself a tea, I peek into Ed's bedroom. The black laptop is still sitting on his bedside table. I hover in the doorway of Ed's room, contemplating whether I can take the laptop, when suddenly there is the sound of a key in the door.

I jump back as Sylvie walks through the door. She has shopping bags, and I try to look less guilty as I offer to grab one from her.

As we're unpacking the groceries, Sylvie says, 'You know, I was thinking about the zine, and what you said about editing. And I thought maybe if you wanted to, you could look over one of my essays? The others have read everything I've written a thousand times, but I think a fresh pair of eyes is what I need. Would you be interested?'

I was leaning into the fridge, trying to organise the vegetables, but I spin around. 'I'd actually really love to, Sylvie.'

Sylvie holds the milk out to me, and I take it from her and put it in the fridge door, then look back at her. She had her hair done in braids this week, and it gives her much more of a striking look than when she used to wear a wig (or maybe it was a weave - I was never sure and too awkward to ask her).

'I'm going to make pasta, do you want some?' Sylvie asks.

'Sure,' I say. 'Do you want a tea?'

'Of course,' Sylvie says, and I put the kettle on.

While I'm waiting for the kettle to boil, I glance at my phone, and my stomach jolts when I realise I have a text from Drew. Drew, my ex-boyfriend.

I swallow, grab the phone, and sit down on the sofa, staring at it.

"Hey stranger. I'm in London this weekend. Fancy a coffee?"

I can feel my hands shaking slightly as I type back a quick response.

'Are you okay?' Sylvie asks me, and I look up, to see she's pouring boiling water into two teacups.

'Yeah,' I say, distantly. 'I just got a text from an... old friend.'

I look down at the message I've written to Drew, and then place my phone face down on the sofa, and spring back up to pour milk into the tea, as Sylvie starts chopping vegetables for dinner.

• Author's Note •

OMG OMG OMG what are your thoughts on all of this? So much to discuss in this chapter! Jane and Harper's favourite books??? Do you think it suits them? Do you like them?

And what about Jane's ex-boyfriend Drew getting in touch with her??

And of course I also have a question to get to know my lovely readers, so...

What language did you learn in school, or do you have a second (or even third!) language? Or maybe English isn't even your first language! Let's discuss!

Thanks for reading, voting, commenting!

elle xx