Is She Really Going Out with Him?

by Sophie Cousens

Only I don’t know his registration plate because I’m not Nancy sodding Drew.

“He’s got serious rizz. You should ask him out.”

It isn’t indulgent. Will.

“Maybe older women are the way forward.

“Don’t get his name tattooed on you or anything, will you, Appleby?” he says, eyes boring into me as he runs his thumb down to my wrist before letting go. It feels territorial, and I want to feel indignant, but I’m too focused on trying to quell the giddiness.

“Do you want me to come over?” Will asks. “No, honestly, I’m okay.” “I could go heckle his play? Write up a bad review?”

You’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

I guess some things in life you don’t get to choose; you can’t choose the plot, but you can choose the soundtrack.

“Wouldn’t it be great to be Ethan,” Jess says, and we both laugh, knowing exactly what she means. “To go through life with the confidence of a seven-year-old boy? Heaven,” I say.

“Speak to the and, ’cause the face ain’t listening,” says Ethan, holding up his hand, which makes all three of them fall about in hysterics.

“You look sensational,” he says, kissing the tips of his fingers, then throwing me the kiss through the air.

As we say our good-byes, Will looks at me strangely again, then blushes, as though I am walking the streets in lingerie or something equally exposing.

He briefly looks me up and down in his T-shirt before squeezing his eyes closed and turning onto his side to face the wall.

“You want me,” he says, one finger slowly circling its way up my inner thigh. “Say it.”

“I was happy to keep this unrequited,” he says. “Well, not happy exactly, resigned.”

“I love that I can just look at you now,”

“I’ve fancied you forever. Since I started at the magazine, but you wouldn’t give me the time of day. Now this happens and…” He exhales loudly. “Jesus.” I beam at this, his words sending delight thrumming through me. “That’s not true, don’t lie,” I say, my cheeks starting to ache from smiling. “Anna, did you not notice I was constantly inventing reasons to talk to you? I asked you out to dinner twice; both times you shot me down. I was convinced you hated me.”

Just as I’m about to climb down, Jess opens her bedroom door, then screams when she sees me. The shock of seeing her sets me off too, and both of us screaming wakes Ethan, who comes out of his room armed with a giant Squishmallow.

“Nothing. Thanks,” he says, but he’s still looking at me as though I’ve rescued a puppy from a storm drain rather than just ordered him a sandwich.

“You know, this is a really great bagel,” he says with an unnervingly sincere expression.

huge bunch of giant pink peonies.

“He’s in love with you,” Noah says, as though pointing out that it’s raining.

“I would ask the goddess to remove the giant stick from my neighbor’s arse,” I say, and Noah lets out a hard, sharp laugh. “And to stop him from reading every sign in the museum, or we’ll be here until three in the morning.”

“A truce?” I suggest. “A truce,” he says, raising his cup and taking a gulp of water. “Oh, that’s disgusting,” I say, swallowing it with a grimace.

Ethan and Jess are in their pajamas sitting on the floor, Lottie is on the couch with a mug of tea, and Will is standing in the middle of my living room, acting out a charade.

“I hate the idea of you out with a man who isn’t me.”

“Jesus, you’re going to give half the men in here a heart attack with that top.” He eyes me boldly, sitting back languorously in the chair.

PS: Will, I am in love with you. Call me.

Even if I’m too late, even if he doesn’t call, I still needed to say it. Because true love does not cower in the shadows; it roars, loud and proud, until it has given its all.

Then when I look back to my dance partner, he is not where he’s supposed to be. He’s stepped back out of the line, and someone is tapping him on the shoulder. A long arm, in a black suit, dark hair leaning in to say something in his ear. A man dressed in black tie, asking to cut in. Will. Will is here.

“Appleby, can I just say, you look phenomenal.”

“You look really good in black tie,” I tell him, breaking eye contact to fully absorb his whole outfit. “Really, really good.” “I know I do,” he says with a cocksure grin. “And you look incredible in whatever this is.” He tugs gently on one of my curls.

Ethan runs around and around making strange firing noises and using his blazer as a cape, then pulls on Will’s arm until Will throws him up in the air in a move they call “flying cannonball.”

A thank you to the librarians who put my books on their shelves.