She nods in reply, giving a noisy pull on her straw, sucking up the last dregs from her glass. “We did. She’s the Rachel to my Monica.”
One of Jared’s hands softly strokes my back as he reaches for the cocktail jug with the other and refills Heather’s glass, like the perfect, attentive gentleman that he is. “And you and Tim have been together how long?”
“Four years,” Tim answers. “Four wonderful, long years.” He widens his eyes in exaggerated horror on the word long, which earns him a slap to the chest from his fiancée.
Jared nods, looking thoughtful. “So, you’re probably the best people to come to for advice on how to deal with this one then.” He motions to me and smiles as he fiddles with a lock of my hair. “Do you have any advice for me, any pearls of wisdom that’ll help me navigate the awesome craziness that is Amy Clarke?”
Tim laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Amy’s like a gremlin.”
My mouth drops open in outrage, and I fold my arms across my chest. “Oh, gee, thanks.”
He holds up a hand and raises one eyebrow. “Just calm your tits there, Gizmo. Hear me out.”
Jared takes a sip of his beer, his eyes firmly latched on Tim, waiting to see where this is going.
“Gremlins are great if you treat them right. They’re loving, cute, happy, affectionate, and they make great pets. All you have to do is keep them warm, safe, loved, and most importantly, fed.” Tim sits back with a shit-eating, smug grin on his face, clearly pleased with himself for the ridiculous analogy.
Jared purses his lips, thoughtful, and then replies, “I already noticed the food thing. I’ve never seen her happier than when she’s eating. She hums when she eats.”
I gasp and look at him. “I do not!”
One of his eyebrows rises in challenge, so I look at Heather for help, but she just nods in agreement. My mouth snaps closed, and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassed heat.
Hmm, you learn something about yourself every day.
Tim picks up the jug of beer, refilling his own glass and Jared’s. “Just a heads-up though. Gremlins are simple creatures, and they might look cute and cuddly, but don’t mistreat them; otherwise, they’ll fuck you up. And watch out; they run in packs.” He subtly motions his head towards Heather. “Hurt one, and feel the wrath of the group.”
Heather must kick him under the table because Tim jerks, groans, and spills some of his beer in his lap as he frowns at her.
I chuckle and turn to Jared, plucking another crisp from the packet. “But of course, you can feed me after midnight. That’s all good.”
The bar is filling up even more now, and people crowd around our table as the band starts to set up on the stage. When a drunken guy, who looks barely legal to drink, walks past and smiles at me, Jared frowns and reaches down, gripping the leg of the stool I’m perched on and pulling it closer to his. I squeal and giggle, setting my hand on his thigh and leaning in to him. When he plants his foot on the rung of my stool, I feel my tummy flutter. It’s a possessive gesture, distinctly alpha male marking his territory. I actually love it.
He doesn’t mention the move at all, just turns to Tim to continue the conversation as if nothing happened. “Amy says you’re a nurse at the hospital?”
“Yep, I work in paediatrics. It’s tough going some days but rewarding. I love it,” Tim replies. “What about you? What do you do?”
I lean forward excitedly. “Ooh, ooh, I can answer that!”
Jared looks at me quizzically but waves a hand in a go-ahead gesture.
I clear my throat and lean in to make sure I’m heard over the crowd. “Okay, so you know when you’re chatting on the phone one day, and you casually mention that you really fancy a soft-boiled egg. And then the next day, you’re scrolling Facebook, and bam, you see adverts for a boiled egg machine.”
Heather bursts out laughing. “A boiled egg machine?”
“No wonder you live off ready meals and cereal,” Jared jokes, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on my forehead.
I shoot him a warning glare and turn back to Tim and Heather, who are still laughing. “Do you want to hear this story or not?” When they nod, I roll my eyes and continue, “So, yeah, the boiled egg machine comes up in your news feed. That’s Jared. He uses the wiretap information to learn about you, so he can sell you shit through advertising.” I turn to Jared and raise an eyebrow in question. “Is that about right?”
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Nailed it.”
Tim is grinning. “And how many boiled egg machines do you sell, Jared?”
“Surprisingly few,” Jared answers, deadpan.
“I’ll cheers to that,” Tim says, raising his glass.
We all laugh and chink our glasses as the band starts up behind us, rendering conversation impossible for the rest of the night.
When Heather looks up and catches my eye, she sends me a discreet thumbs-up gesture. My insides fizz with pleasure. Jared gets the BFF stamp of approval.
thirteen
My time off goes by in what feels like a blink of the eye, and before I know it, I’m back in my old routine of early mornings and swaying in rhythm on the train.
I’ve been back at work a full week now already, too, and my holiday seems like a lifetime ago. Today marks another momentous occasion that excites me to my very core. Today is what I used to call Man Crush Monday. But it’s the first time I’m going to see Jared on the train since our very first accidental meeting at the coffee shop four glorious weeks ago. The whole dynamic of our relationship is different this time; we’re no longer strangers who don’t speak. I’ve seen him naked and smelled his morning breath; he’s touched every part of me, seen me with no make-up and unbrushed hair, wearing tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt that I dropped pasta sauce down after a disastrous attempt to cook for him one night. I no longer feel nervous around him. He makes me feel at ease, confident, wanted, even when I am at my worst.
I can barely wait to see him this morning. It is sure to be the highlight of my day. What is going to make this experience even better is that I haven’t seen Jared for two days because I went home to my mum’s house for the weekend and only got home late last night.
I’m standing on the platform, outside the door at the front of the train, eagerly waiting for him to arrive, when one of my daily regulars walks up to me and stops at my side, folding up her newspaper and tucking it under one arm as she sips her coffee.
“Good morning, Amy.”
“Hi, Angela. How are you today? Good weekend?”
She nods but scrunches her nose up at the same time. “Same old, same old. Back to the grindstone now though!” she huffs, rolling her eyes. When I beam a smile in reply, she narrows her eyes at me. “What’s got you so chipper this morning? No one should be this happy on a workday.” She waves a hand in the direction of my face and my wide smile.
I shrug nonchalantly. “Just love Mondays; that’s all.”
“Ugh, you’re the only one, I’m afraid. I’d rather still be in bed.” Angela takes another swig of her coffee and steps on board the train, sending me a little wave as she heads in to find a seat in the already-packed train.