I think I could also retract my statement about never feeling like a third wheel, because tonight I feel like the third, fourth and transmission box all at once. A week away from getting married and they’re understandably handsy with each other. And it’s not even that that bothers me. It’s that it gives Hunter more than one idea and, while I manage to dodge him before his hand makes contact with my arse, he does manage a hip grab more than once.
‘Aren’t they amazing?’ Hunter leans in as we watch our friends dance at the top of the lane. I shout at them that we aren’t at the wedding reception yet and that they should calm down. ‘I’ll have what they’re having, right?’
‘Huh?’ I offer him a cursory glance.
‘I’m just saying, it would be nice to have what they have.’
I take a sip of water.
‘You know, I’m not far from here. My apartment, I mean. It’s in Kelham Island.’
I listen as he prattles on about the view from his balcony window. In fairness, it does sound like a lovely flat, an open plan red-brick converted warehouse. Thank the developers for triple-glazed windows, he says with a wink. When he asks where I live, I tell him it’s a short tram ride away and leave it at that. I don’t need him to know I live at the gallery. And then, I hear a sniff. Right. In. My. Ear.
‘What do you say we skip off on these two and I can show you the butler’s pantry? Maybe get to know each other a bit better?’ he asks. ‘It’s been a bit loud around here tonight.’
I look at him. ‘I’m quite happy here, thanks.’
‘Oh, come on, I have it on good authority you’re up for a good time.’
That cheerful façade I’ve done my best to maintain all night slides off the side of a cliff and sinks to the bottom of the ocean. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean I’m keen to keep things casual, too.’
‘What did you say?’ I glare at him.
‘Just a one-night thing if you like?’ He looks nervously to Frank, who’s now watching all this play out. ‘You know, if that’s still what you do?’
‘Now, you listen to me, you jumped up little shit.’ My nose flares and twitches. ‘Don’t you ever, ever touch me again, do you understand?’
He peers up at me, wide-eyed and nodding as I stand and grab my coat. My heart almost physically up and throws itself on the floor as I look at Frank and Lainey, these two people who I thought were my dear friends. But best friends wouldn’t have said something like that about me to another man. I’m certain I haven’t done anything tonight to give Hunter such an impression. Lainey steps down from the lane as I grab my coat, mutter a few choice words, and disappear to the loos.
I hold my phone above my head but there’s no service in the cubicle. I allow myself a pity cry, just enough to let the pressure off but not enough to make a complete tit of myself. Lainey shuffles in behind a few sets of feet.
‘Katie?’ She walks along peering under each door. I’m surprised nobody’s telling her to sod off. She stops when she sees my shoes. ‘Katharine, are you okay?’
‘No,’ I blub.
‘Do you want to talk about it? Did he do something inappropriate?’
I scoff and peer up at the fluorescent lights. All they do is make my eyes water again. ‘Are you kidding me right now?’
‘No, I’m not kidding at all,’ she says. ‘Please tell me if he did something.’
‘Have you been blind to all the unwanted touching, have you?’ I yank the toilet door open and unwind a mound of paper around my hand. ‘Or were you too busy telling him I was an easy lay?’
‘What?’ she shrieks, a dozen notches less snarky than she was hours earlier. ‘No. Why on earth would I do that to you?’
‘Well, somebody told him that.’ I snivel, dabbing wet paper under my eyes. ‘“I have it on good authority that you’re up for a good time.” Who says that?’
‘It certainly wasn’t me.’
‘Did Frank?’ I grab at the basin and turn to face her. ‘Because someone must have.’
‘He wouldn’t do that.’ Her face is awash with sorrow, lips and the corners of her eyes turned down. ‘Frank adores you, you know that.’
‘You know, I love you like a sister, but I’m saddened to think that’s how one or both of you speak of me when I’m not around.’
Two of the other toilets empty. There’s a distinct, conspiratorial silence as the two women watch us nervously and we wait for them to clear out. I tear at the paper towel again.
‘I’m so sorry he’s made you feel like that, Katie,’ she says. ‘I just wanted to spend some time with you. It’s not the same since you started this gallery thing. We don’t see each other, it’s just text messages, and it kind of sucks.’
‘It kind of sucks because you kind of suck right now,’ I bite. ‘Every single time I’ve seen you lately, it’s been you-centric. Your menu cards. Needing paper right now. Paper which you didn’t even pay for, so thanks for doing that to my dad. You beg and plead that I have to be at your dress fitting, so I rush through a meeting to be there. Why? So your mother can insult me and I can listen to you talk about yourself all day.’
Her mouth gapes.
‘Where were you when I desperately wanted to talk to you the other day? I wanted to tell you how things were going with the gallery, and about how I’d met somebody and that, despite a rocky start, I really, really like him. That I can see things with him I only ever imagined with other men. But, again, it was all about what you needed from me. The minute you had what you wanted, you hung up on me mid-sentence.’
‘Look at you.’ She’s almost spitting as she speaks. ‘What, you think you’re amazing because you’re opening some tiny gallery? And Kit? Well, Frank wasn’t wrong in his assessment, was he? You’ve jumped straight on the first guy who looks at you.’
I toss the wad of paper in the bin and look at her. ‘Delete my number.’
I’ll bet any money you like that I look like hell right now. A crumpled dress, running mascara, and the stain of a blue moustache above my upper lip. I don’t have enough credit on my travel card to get me home, nor do I have the money in my current account to do a top-up. The bus driver gives me a pitiful look as the door closes with a pneumatic hiss.
‘Just this once,’ she warns. ‘We’ll get you home safely.’
‘Thank you.’ I slink away to the back seat, embarrassed but grateful for the small mercy.
A chronic heaviness sits at the base of my spine. I’m rooted to the spot while at the same time desperate to run. I want to be as far away from tonight as I can possibly get. I want away from the discomfort and unwanted attention. I want to be left alone. I want Christopher.
The realisation is sudden and overwhelming, so much so that I miss my stop and continue staring into the night sky for a whole six stops afterwards. I finally race from the bus on the seventh stop and start walking the last of the trip.
Maybe Christopher was right when he said that this was the perfect storm. With my moving away and the both of us having less time on our hands, he had strangely become my closest confidant. I’m worried I left him upset this afternoon and hope he’s still home when I get there.