"What should I wear?" Miriam wailed at her phone, face contorting into a look filled with unkept despair.
"Like it matters," Abi said, glancing up at the camera. "You've got Ade right where you want him."
"Except it does matter. You never have them, trust me."
Laid out in front of her were three outfits. One in all black, another comprising of too many elements and a third that was tricky to pee in. Each looked good on, of that Miriam was sure, but she wanted to send the right message. Namely: I'm ready and waiting. Only, the moment Ade received it, comprehending and digesting, she would pull back and send another which inspired caution, uncertainty, a third leg in the race.
"He's obsessed with you," Abi said, still missing the point.
"I don't—"
The front door opened; Miriam groaned inwardly. "Fuck." She strode towards her bedroom door and closed it.
"What's wrong?" Abi asked when Miriam returned to her bed.
"It's Wes."
"So?"
Grabbing her AirPods from her bedside table, Miriam stuffed them in her ears and said, "He's been acting weird."
"What?" Abi snorted. "Like chatting to the girl in the pub last night?"
"Yeah, he even brought her home. I couldn't leave my room until eleven."
"So? Isn't that what it's like living with a twenty-year-old guy?"
"Wes isn't like that," Miriam said defensively. "I mean if he does, you know, it's never in the flat. He doesn't even really flirt in front of me."
"Seriously?" Abi looked like she was about to roll her eyes but somehow thought better of it.
"Yeah," Miriam insisted. "It's like our unspoken rule. I mean, it's not like he sleeps around anyway, but he especially doesn't do it here. At least he didn't until this week."
"What do you mean it's not like he sleeps around?" Abi was laughing so hard Miriam had half a mind to jump through the phone screen and push her. "Wes has a reputation," she said once she'd calmed down. "Well, had."
"Exactly, past tense. He doesn't do that anymore."
"I'm not being funny," Abi said, finally giving Miriam her undivided attention, "but why do you care? It's not like you're sleeping with him."
"I don't care," Miriam said breezily. "He could just do so much better."
"Then?"
"Some rando he met in the pub. I mean it's the fucking pub."
"But you don't know these girls," Abi pointed out. "They could be amazing and kind and—"
"I highly doubt that."
"So what?" she sighed. "No one's good enough for him?"
"I didn't—are you going to help me pick an outfit or not?" Miriam almost stamped her foot.
"Fine, fine," Abi laughed. "Wear the black dress. You'll look amazing."
"Thanks." Miriam picked up the dress, allowing the silky material to slip through her fingers and collect in a pile in the centre of her bed.
"And if Wes asks," Abi added, "you were with me."
"Seriously?" Miriam felt her heartrate pick up. "You'd lie for me?"
"Of course. There's no point you and Wes arguing over this, in a couple of weeks Ade will be a distant memory and you can go back to being your weird ass selves."
"We're not weird," Miriam muttered as she grabbed her makeup bag from the shelving unit above her bed.
"Your relationship definitely is."
"We're friends," Miriam said a little too forcefully. "I don't get why a guy and a girl can't be friends."
"They can," Abi said. "Just not the way you and Wes do it."
"Whatever." Miriam had heard this all before. "I'll call you later."
"Sure. Good luck."
Miriam hung up, took a deep breath, and began the tedious process of getting ready. Makeup and hair, lipgloss shades gone wrong, winged liner smudged, shoes, bags, jewellery. The possibilities were an endless vortex that swirled into oblivion, sucking the very essence of life out of Miriam until the doorbell rang and the problem was pushed aside for a more pressing reality.
Wes' heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway, ushering in two options. The first was a non-starter, and yet, Miriam wanted nothing more than to rugby tackle Wes to the ground and knock him clean out in the process. Sure, she'd feel bad, but she was certain she could, in the event he remembered, pass Ade's presence off as a phantom conjured up due to the pain and potential concussion. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to take Wes out in years, so she settled on option two and scrambled to her feet.
"This guy," Wes muttered just as Miriam crashed into the hallway.
"Hey man." Ade's voice was overwhelmingly pleasant. A feat, Miriam was sure, when Wes was scowling so. "Is Miriam in?" he asked.
Wes ignored him and turned to face her, brows standing to attention. "What the fuck is going on?"
"I, um, I." Miriam slipped past Wes and filled the doorway. She felt her features rise to the occasion, smiling where she wanted to scream. "I'm so sorry," she said to Ade, "do you mind just waiting a second?"
"Yeah, of course, take all the time you need." She didn't miss the way his eyes skimmed appreciatively up and down her body. Maybe if he were someone else, it would've made her shiver with pleasure rather than barely concealed exhaustion.
She let out a breathy thanks nonetheless before clamping a hand on Wes' wrist and yanking. They barrelled into the living room where Miriam shoved him onto the sofa and loomed above him, feet shoulder width apart, hands on hips. If Esther was to be believed all she needed was a power pose and nothing would go wrong.
"What the fuck?" Wes said through gritted teeth. "A date, Mer? A fucking date?"
"It's." She couldn't lie to him. She wanted to, oh so badly, but the words were tied down by guilt. At the same time, the truth was impossible. Two and half years she'd been at this, Ade wouldn't be the thing that made it crumble.
"It's a date," Wes said, standing, blowing her power pose to shit.
"Yes, but it's fine," she said. "I know what I'm doing."
"You said that with Josh and—"
"Enough with Josh." Miriam's hands slapped against her thighs. The sound seemed to echo, reverberating its way into her soul. "I was there," she said, lowering her voice. "I know what he did, I remember. Which is why I can safely say this thing between me and Ade is nothing like what happened with Josh. I'm not a fucking idiot."
"I was there too," Wes hissed. "I was there when you found him with that girl, I was there when you screamed at him, and I was there for the months you spent crying over him. I don't want you to make another mistake."
If she weren't so angry maybe she would've found his declaration sweet, a testament to their friendship, but instead she saw red and bit out, "Thanks, but I'm fine."
"You sure about that?" he scoffed.
"A hundred percent."
Miriam knew better than to leave things on a bad note, but the only thing standing in the way of her and success was this random argument scaring Ade all the way off, so she walked away and didn't look back. Ade was leaning against the doorframe, phone in hand. He glanced up when she slipped past and shut the door behind them. "All good?" he asked.
"Yeah." Miriam fixed a smile on her face and ignored the growing thrum of her heart. "Shall we?" she asked.
"Let's."
Ade picked a bar five minutes away from Enigma, hidden on a cobbled side street. It was quiet, both literally and figuratively, with a few tables dotted around and a jazz instrumental CD humming in the background. It was also dark, which, for some, may have pushed whatever tension existed to a fizzing head, but for Miriam, reminded her that this was a job. One she couldn't fail.
"What are you having?" Ade asked once they'd taken a seat at a table in the far-right corner.
"Surprise me," Miriam said, glancing up from beneath her lashes.
For a moment, she feared she'd laid it on too thick, but he licked his lips and nodded once, firm, sure, before dashing towards the bar and taking all her worries with him. Whatever he thought about what he'd heard, it clearly hadn't ruined anything, leaving Miriam's path to victory as clear as ever.
Ade returned with the drinks, hers clear and carbonated, his dark and still, and took his seat, his knees brushing against hers beneath the table. She leaned forward ever so slightly and trapped the thin black straw protruding from her glass between her lips. One second, two second, he gulped, not making it, and she let the straw go. "Thanks," she said, leaning back.
"I think I should be the one saying thank you."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I mean, you definitely didn't seem interested the first time we met, and now look at us."
"You can't blame me," Miriam said. "You must know the reputation you have."
Ade laughed and itched the back of his neck. "You know what they say about rumours."
"And that is?"
"Not to trust them."
"Oh, so you're not a fuckboy then?"
"The complete opposite," he said with a grin. "I'm so committed it scares me."
"Scares you into?"
"Not committing."
Miriam let out an unexpected bark of laughter which was far too honest for comfort. He was funny. She didn't expect it, but he was. Funny and self-aware and real. Which would've been refreshing under different circumstances but served to remind her just how much he needed to be humbled.
"So you are a fuckboy?" Miriam smiled lazily.
"Some might say that."
"Some like?"
"Every girl I've ever dated."
Miriam laughed again. "Are you trying to win me over with honesty?" she asked.
"Why, is it working?"
"Does it often work?"
He waggled a finger and finished his drink in a single, crushing gulp. "Now, now," he said, "I can't give away all my secrets."
"Fair enough." Miriam raised her glass to her mouth. "But tell me this."
He arched a brow.
"Would we still be here if I was interested? The first time we met, I mean."
"Honestly." Ade sucked in a long breath and puffed out his chest as he exhaled. "No."
"Oh."
"Maybe I really am a dickhead," he said, "but I don't want easy."
"So what? Am I hard?"
"Bowser's Castle level difficult," he said, nodding for emphasis.
Miriam had never laughed so much while on the clock, and yet, there he was, leaving her with no choice but to. In that moment, she realised why he'd gotten away with it. Why he'd spent the past two years slipping beneath her radar. Bad, yes, but not so much that she was forced to intervene. Everyone knew what he was like, but a single joke and Miriam could imagine it seemed worth it. The danger, the threat. Heartbreak be dammed if, for a few moments, he was yours.
Maybe, after her, he would be perfect. Funny but kind. Unselfish. Ready to be the boyfriend rather than the fuckboy.
***
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