Twenties Girl 68
“To motors,” she says. “Not men!”
“Same thing! Once he’s up and running, everything will be fine, I know it…” I catch my breath. Oh my God. There he is.
He’s sauntering along, his iPod in his ears, carrying a bottle of water and a new, cool-looking laptop bag. My legs are suddenly trembling, but there’s no time to lose. I take a step out from my hiding place, and then another and another, until I’m right in his path.
“Oh!” I try to adopt a tone of surprise. “Er… hi, Josh!”
“Lara.” He rips out his earphones and gazes at me warily.
“I’d completely forgotten you work around here!” I plaster a bright smile on my face. “What a coincidence!”
“Ye-esss,” he says slowly.
Honestly. He needn’t look quite so suspicious.
“I was just thinking about you the other day,” I continue hurriedly. “About that time we went to the wrong Notre Dame. D’you remember? When the GPS got it wrong? Wasn’t it funny?”
I’m gabbling. Slow down.
“That’s weird,” says Josh after a pause. “I was thinking about that the other day too.” His eyes alight on the book in my hand, and I can see the jolt of surprise. “Is that … Los Alamos?”
“Oh, yes,” I say carelessly. “I was looking through this fantastic book called Democratic Camera the other day. The pictures were so amazing, I just had to go and buy this.” I pat it fondly, then look up. “Hey, didn’t you quite like William Eggleston too?” I wrinkle my brow innocently. “Or was that someone else?”
“I love William Eggleston,” says Josh slowly. “It was me who gave you Democratic Camera.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I slap my head. “I’d forgotten.”
I can see bewilderment in his face. He’s on the back foot. Time to press home my advantage.
“Josh, I’ve been meaning to say…” I give him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry for all those texts I sent you. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Well…” Josh coughs awkwardly.
“Will you let me buy you a quick drink? Just to make it up? No hard feelings?”
There’s silence. I can almost see his thought processes. It’s a reasonable suggestion. It’s a free drink. She looks sane enough .
“OK.” He puts his iPod away. “Why not?”
I shoot a triumphant look at Sadie, who is shaking her head and making deathlike finger-across-the-throat gestures. Well, I don’t care what she thinks. I march Josh into a nearby pub, order a white wine for me and a beer for him, and find a table in the corner. We raise our glasses and sip, and I open some crisps.
“So.” I smile at Josh and offer him the packet.
“So.” He clears his throat, obviously feeling awkward. “How are things?”
“Josh.” I lean my elbows on the table and look at him seriously. “You know what? Let’s not analyze everything. God, I’m sick of people who analyze everything to death. I’m sick of unpicking conversations. Just live. Enjoy life. Don’t think about it!”
Josh stares at me over his beer, looking totally confused. “But you used to love analyzing. You used to read that magazine Analyze .”
“I’ve changed.” I shrug simply. “I’ve changed in so many ways, Josh. I buy less makeup. My bathroom is totally empty. I was thinking I might like to travel. To Nepal maybe.”
I’m sure I remember him mentioning Nepal, one of those times.
“You want to go traveling?” He seems taken aback. “But you never said-”
“It came to me recently,” I say earnestly. “Why am I so unadventurous? There’s so much out there to see. Mountains… cities… the temples of Kathmandu-”
“I’d love to see Kathmandu,” he says, looking animated. “You know, I was thinking about going there next year.”
“No!” I beam at him. “That’s amazing!”
For the next ten minutes we talk about Nepal. At least, Josh talks about Nepal and I agree with everything he says, and the time just whizzes by. We both have color in our cheeks and are laughing as he glances at his watch. We look like a happy couple. I know, because I keep checking out our reflection in the mirror.
“I’d better shoot,” Josh suddenly says, looking at his watch. “I’ve got a squash practice. It’s been good to see you, Lara.”
“Oh, right,” I say, taken aback. “Great to see you too.”
“Thanks for the drink.” I watch in slight panic as he picks up his laptop case. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.