I inwardly hiss as Kate reminds me of Sarah’s words about building dreams. ‘How do you know?’ I ask, trying to reign in my drifting thoughts.
‘I just do.’ she says on a half laugh.
I’m a bit disappointed, if I’m honest. She’s lively, amazingly laid back and completely uninhibited – all of the things that Sam seems to be. Well, from what I’ve seen – which is quite a lot. What’s the issue?
‘I like him.’ I admit. He might be an exhibitionist and a complete pest, but he’s very endearing with it.
‘Well, I like Jesse.’
I laugh. Yes she would like him. He brought her a van. But then I recoil. ‘You don’t like him like that do you?’ Oh God, I’d never thought that Kate might be attracted to him. Well, everyone’s attracted to him. I’ve been to the receiving end of numerous sneers from admiring women, but I never thought, not for a moment, that Kate might look at him like that.
‘No!’ She looks at me all offended. ‘I like how much he clearly loves you.’
‘What? He doesn’t love me, Kate. He loves to fuck me.’ I take a long glug of wine to dull the affect that Kate’s statement’s had on me. Or is it the affect of my alternative statement? Clearly loves me, or clearly loves to control me?
‘Ava, again, you’re the master of denial.’
‘How old do you think he is?’ I ask.
Kate shrugs. ‘Mid-thirties, I’m going for a quick fag.’ She slips down from the stool, retrieving her cigarettes from her bag. ‘Wait here, we don’t want to lose the table.’
She makes her way to the smoking area, leaving me pondering my diabolical situation. I’m in love with the trampling, unreasonable control freak. I knew I should have stayed away from him. I can’t help but think that I could have easily rebuffed, denied and walked away from any other man. Jesse is another story entirely, though. I’m addicted to him, and I’m not sure it’s healthy.
‘Ava?’
I’m dragged from my brief thoughts by a very familiar voice. It’s also a most unwelcome voice. I swivel on my tight, silk clad butt.
‘Hi, Matt.’ I sound way more pleased to see him than I actually am.
‘Shit, Ava. You look great.’ He runs his smutty eyes up and down my body, making me feel highly uncomfortable and conspicuous. How does he make my skin crawl now? I loved him for four years. Or did I? What I felt for Matt seems to have paled into insignificance compared to how I’m feeling about a certain Mr Control Freak of an age that I still don’t know.
‘Thanks, how are you?’ I ask politely, taking in his shirt and black jeans. I hate those jeans, and the shirt looks cheap and nasty.
‘Really good, thanks. What have you been up to?’
Fucking. Lots of amazing fucking! ‘Not a lot. Working heaps, looking for a new place.’ I’m lying, of course. I’ve not even visited a letting agent. Matt doesn’t pick up on my hair being coiled around my finger. He never did pick up on my hair twiddling habit - a sign, maybe?
‘Is the job going well?’ He rests his elbows on the edge of the table, getting way too close to my personal space. My back straightens, pulling me away, and I pray for Kate’s quick return. He’ll soon scarper if Kate makes an appearance.
‘Yes, really good, thanks?’ I reply, while deliberating on asking him the same question. After he called and told me about the redundancies being made at his work place, I suppose I should, but I don’t want to get too tied up in conversation.
He smiles brightly – it’s false. ‘Great. Listen, I just wanted to apologise again. I was out of line. I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to fuck off.’
Fuck off! ‘It’s fine, Matt. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Cool.’
I inwardly vomit when James walks over to join us, looking at me with the contempt I feel for him. He can go and take a leap! I smile sweetly, repositioning myself on the stool with caution. This dress is ridiculous, and while I felt perfectly comfortable up until Matt found me, I now feel over exposed and vulnerable under the scrutinising glares of my ex and his friend.
‘James.’ I nod in acknowledgment to his presence.
‘Ava.’ he retorts. His cold tone doesn’t escape my notice. He must have told Matt about his encounter with me and a tall, blonde, aggressive type, so why is Matt being so pleasant?
‘Can I buy you a drink for old times’ sake?’ Matt offers.
‘No, honestly, I’m good.’ I hold up my half full glass of wine. For old times’ sake? What? Like a celebration of how much of a knob he was? Please!