Chapter Five
If Julian and I were good at anything, it was pretending we were completely fine with plans that didn't include each other.
We were so good at it that anyone watching would've believed us.
We stood outside the Tube station, the city buzzing around us, both of us lingering like there was something unfinished hanging in the air.
"So," Julian said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Big night."
"Medium night," I corrected. "Low expectations."
"Smart," he nodded. "You're meeting Oliver."
"Yes."
He frowned slightly. "That name still bothers me."
"It's just a name."
"It sounds like he owns scented candles."
"He might."
Julian grimaced. "Unacceptable."
I laughed. "You're meeting Hannah. At a jazz bar."
"Yes," he said. "Where adults go to pretend they're emotionally complex."
"You hate jazz."
"I tolerate jazz," he replied. "Like I tolerate you."
"That's rude."
"That's affection."
We stood there another second too long.
"Text me," he said.
"You text me."
"Fine," he agreed. "Mutual surveillance."
"Menace."
"Problem."
We finally split, walking in opposite directions, both turning back at the same time.
"Don't be late," he called.
"To what?"
"To missing me."
I shook my head, smiling as I disappeared down the stairs.
Oliver was already seated when I arrived at the restaurant. He stood when he saw me, smiling easily.
"Elise," he said. "You look great."
"Thank you," I replied, sitting. "This place is… very intentional."
He laughed. "I like places with atmosphere."
Of course you do.
We ordered drinks. He leaned forward, clearly comfortable.
"So," he said, "tell me about yourself."
I paused. That question always sounded simple until I tried to answer it honestly.
"I like people," I said finally. "And noise. And conversations that go nowhere."
He smiled. "I'm more structured."
"I can tell."
He laughed, not offended. "Routine keeps me grounded."
"That's admirable," I said. "I negotiate with myself every morning."
He grinned. "You're funny."
"I try."
As he talked about his work, his mornings, his discipline, I nodded along, interested but restless. My phone buzzed in my bag.
I didn't check it.
Two seconds passed.
I checked it.
Nothing yet.
Across the city, Julian sat at the bar while the band tuned their instruments. Hannah leaned against the counter, relaxed and observant.
"You keep checking your phone," she said casually.
Julian locked the screen. "Do I?"
"Yes," she replied. "It's subtle, but consistent."
"That's unfortunate."
"For who?" she asked.
"For me," he said. "It means I'm predictable."
She smiled. "Or it means someone matters."
He didn't answer immediately. The music started. He winced.
"You don't like jazz," she said.
"I like the idea of jazz," he replied. "The execution stresses me out."
She laughed. "You're honest."
"I try."
Back at my table, Oliver excused himself to the restroom.
"I'll be right back," he said.
"Take your time," I replied.
The moment he left, my shoulders dropped without permission. I picked up my phone.
Still nothing.
I frowned, then caught myself and placed it face-down.
Across town, Julian's phone buzzed.
Me: Scale of one to ten. How trapped are you?
He smiled before replying.
Julian: Jazz is attacking me spiritually.
Me: Be brave, babe.
He froze for half a second, then typed.
Julian: You called me babe.
Me: Stress response.
Julian: I am choosing to cherish this moment.
Hannah noticed his smile.
"That's her," she said.
He didn't deny it. "Yes."
"Do you like her?" she asked gently.
Julian exhaled. "I love her. Just… not like that."
Hannah studied him. "Are you sure?"
He nodded quickly. Then slower. "I think so."
She accepted that without pushing. "Okay."
Oliver returned, sitting back down.
"You were smiling," he said.
"I was?"
"Yes," he replied. "When you checked your phone."
I didn't bother lying. "It's a friend."
"A close one," he said.
I nodded. "Very."
He smiled thoughtfully. "I don't usually keep friendships like that."
"Why not?"
"Because they complicate things."
"Or they clarify them," I said.
He laughed softly. "You see the world differently."
Across the bar, Hannah leaned closer to Julian.
"She's important to you," she said.
"She is."
"Does she know?"
He thought about it. "She knows I show up."
"That's something," Hannah said gently.
Later, Oliver asked, "Do you want dessert?"
I hesitated.
Across the city, Julian checked his phone again, then stopped himself.
Hannah raised an eyebrow. "You're doing it again."
"I know," he said. "Habit."
"She's texting you."
"Yes."
Hannah smiled sadly. "I don't think I'm competing with her."
Julian frowned. "It's not a competition."
"That's worse," she said kindly.
I finally replied to Oliver. "Sure. Dessert."
But my phone buzzed again.
Julian: Be honest. Are you bored?
I smiled before replying.
Me: A little. You?
Julian: I miss normal conversations.
Me: You miss me.
Julian: I was trying to be polite.
Later that night, the city played its favorite trick.
Julian and I reached the same crossing from opposite sides at the same time.
We saw each other and laughed immediately.
"Well?" he asked.
"He's nice," I said.
"She's perceptive," he replied.
We crossed together without deciding to.
Some distances closed on their own.
And even after separate tables, separate conversations, separate attempts at something new, we ended the night exactly where we always did.
Side by side.