The Things I Can't Do To You

Five Minutes

Amelia found herself sitting perfectly still on the sofa with her eyes closed. She had intended to make herself a cup of tea, curl up beneath a blanket and forget the evening had ever happened. That was usually how she dealt with difficult days. A hot drink, a romance novel and an early night could fix almost anything.

Tonight, none of it seemed to work.

The tea sat untouched on the coffee table, slowly cooling in its mug. The book lay open in her lap where she had abandoned it after only a few pages. The television hummed quietly in the background, though she couldn't have said what was on.

Instead, the evening replayed itself.

Daniel smiling as though she owed him her time. The scrape of the chair as he'd sat down without permission. The casual confidence with which he'd answered questions directed at her. The growing knot in her stomach every time she'd tried to end the conversation, only for him to steer it somewhere else. The horrible realisation that nothing he was doing seemed serious enough to justify making a scene, yet everything together had left her feeling trapped.

Then another memory pushed itself to the front of her mind.

"There you are, sweetheart."

She opened her eyes.

It was ridiculous how clearly she could still hear his voice. Calm. Steady. Certain. It hadn't been loud or dramatic. He hadn't demanded attention from the room or marched over like some action hero. He had simply appeared beside her as though he'd always intended to meet her there. She could still remember the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. The feeling of safety that had settled over her before she'd even had time to think.

She closed her eyes again. His face drifted back into focus with startling clarity. Dark hair. Hazel eyes. That quiet smile. She barely knew anything about him. Yet somehow she remembered every detail.

With a frustrated sigh, Amelia picked up her book again. She read one page. Then another. By the third she realised she had absolutely no idea what had happened in the story. She had reached the bottom of the page three times without absorbing a single word. She closed the book.

"Hopeless," she muttered to herself.

The television was no better. She switched channels twice before settling on a travel programme she normally enjoyed. Mountains, beaches and cheerful presenters wandered across the screen while she stared straight through them. Ten minutes later she realised she hadn't listened to a sentence. She reached for the remote and muted it.

The silence somehow felt louder.

Her eyes drifted towards her phone.

Lucy's final message still sat at the top of the screen.

Lucy:

Tell me everything tomorrow.

Amelia smiled.

That had been the plan. Lucy had work in the morning. Amelia had promised herself she'd sleep on everything before trying to explain it. Now she wasn't convinced she could wait that long. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She typed. Deleted it. Typed something else. Deleted that too.

How did you even begin explaining an evening that somehow contained the creepiest man she'd ever met and the nicest stranger she'd ever encountered? Eventually she settled on the simplest message she could think of.

Amelia:

Are you still awake?

The reply arrived almost instantly.

Lucy:

Knew you wouldn't make it until tomorrow.

Amelia laughed quietly.

Amelia:

How did you know?

Lucy:

Because you've either had the most boring evening imaginable...

Lucy:

...or you're currently overthinking something.

Lucy:

Considering it's you, I'm betting on option two.

Amelia shook her head.

Lucy knew her far too well. They had met during their first week at university after accidentally reaching for the same library book. Somehow that tiny coincidence had turned into a friendship that had survived dissertations, terrible housemates, break-ups, new jobs and countless takeaway nights. Lucy had always been able to read Amelia frighteningly well. Amelia hesitated before typing.

Amelia:

A man wouldn't leave me alone in the pub.

The typing indicator appeared almost instantly.

Lucy:

WHAT?

Lucy:

Are you okay?

Lucy:

Do I need to come over?

Warmth spread through Amelia's chest. That was Lucy all over. She asked questions later. She made sure you were safe first.

Amelia:

I'm okay now.

Lucy:

Now??

Lucy:

Amelia, don't do that.

You can't open with "a man wouldn't leave me alone" and then disappear.

Explain.

Amelia smiled despite herself.

Amelia:

He came over while I was reading.

Asked if he could sit down.

I tried to tell him I was leaving.

He sat down anyway.

Lucy:

Ugh.

Lucy:

Already don't like him.

Amelia:

Then he bought me another drink.

Lucy:

Without asking?

Amelia:

Yep.

Lucy:

Definitely don't like him.

Amelia smiled faintly. Reading the conversation back made the whole thing sound strangely obvious. Why hadn't she simply walked away? Because she hadn't wanted to be rude. Because she'd convinced herself she was imagining things. Because she'd spent twenty-eight years trying not to upset people.

Amelia:

It just kept getting worse.

He wouldn't stop talking.

Every time I tried to end the conversation, he found another reason to keep it going.

Lucy:

Did he touch you?

Amelia stared at the question. It should have been easy to answer.

Amelia:

No.

He just...

Wouldn't leave.

Lucy replied almost immediately.

Lucy:

Sometimes that's worse.

Amelia found herself staring at the words. There had been no shouting, no threats, no grabbing her arm, nothing dramatic enough that anyone else in the pub had looked twice. And yet somehow she'd felt smaller with every passing minute. As though she had slowly lost permission to say no.

Amelia:

Exactly.

I felt stupid for feeling uncomfortable.

Lucy:

Don't.

A moment later another message appeared.

Lucy:

If you felt uncomfortable, that was enough.

You didn't owe him your evening because he bought you a drink.

Or because he was "being nice."

Or because you smiled.

Amelia stopped typing. Her fingers rested motionless above the screen. Those last three words caught in her chest.

Amelia:

That's exactly what he said.

Lucy was typing almost before Amelia had finished sending the message.

Lucy:

...

Lucy:

What?

Amelia:

He told me I'd smiled at him.

Like that meant I wanted him to sit with me.

Lucy:

Oh, Amelia...

Lucy:

No.

That's not how smiling works.

Lucy:

You're polite to everyone.

The postman probably thinks you're his favourite customer.

Despite everything, Amelia laughed.

Amelia:

Probably.

Lucy:

You apologise when people walk into YOU.

Again... Not entirely inaccurate.

Amelia:

Then something really weird happened.

There was a pause.

Lucy:

Weird how?

Amelia stared at the screen for a moment. She still wasn't entirely convinced the evening had actually happened.

Amelia:

The most ridiculously attractive man I've ever seen suddenly appeared beside me.

Three dots appeared. Stopped. Appeared again. Finally...

Lucy:

I'm listening...

Amelia:

He put his arm around me and said,

"There you are, sweetheart. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Several seconds passed.

Then...

Lucy:

NO.

Lucy:

HE DID NOT.

Amelia laughed out loud.

Amelia:

He absolutely did.

Lucy:

Fake boyfriend??

Amelia:

Exactly.

Lucy:

I've watched enough romantic comedies to know this is either the start of your love story...

Lucy:

...or you're about to discover he's secretly a serial killer.

Amelia snorted.

Amelia:

Thanks for narrowing it down.

Lucy:

You're welcome.

So...

Continue.

Amelia:

He led me to a quieter table and sat with me.

The other man left almost immediately.

It was like someone had pressed a reset button on the whole evening.

Lucy took slightly longer to reply.

Lucy:

How did he make you feel?

Amelia frowned. That wasn't the question she'd expected. She thought carefully before answering.

Amelia:

Safe.

The message sat on the screen for a moment before Lucy replied.

Lucy:

That's a good answer.

Amelia looked down at the phone. It was. She hadn't realised it until she'd typed it.

Lucy:

Was he fit?

Amelia rolled her eyes. There it was.

Amelia:

Very.

Lucy:

How very?

Amelia considered it carefully.

Amelia:

Annoyingly.

Lucy responded with a string of laughing emojis.

Lucy:

Specific.

Amelia:

He looked like he belonged on the cover of one of my books.

Lucy:

You're in trouble already.

Amelia:

I'm absolutely not.

Lucy:

You've described his face before you've told me his name.

Amelia froze. Then looked back through the conversation. Lucy was right. She had.

Amelia:

...

Lucy:

HAHAHAHA.

Lucy:

You don't even know his name, do you?

A reluctant smile spread across Amelia's face.

Amelia:

Actually...

I do.

It's Jake.

There was another pause.

Lucy:

Jake.

Solid name.

Eight out of ten.

Amelia:

You cannot rate names.

Lucy:

Watch me.

Jake.

8/10.

James.

7/10.

Nigel.

Straight to prison.

Amelia burst out laughing.

Amelia:

That's not how names work.

Lucy:

It is now.

Did he ask for your number?

Amelia's smile faded.

Amelia:

No.

Lucy:

Did you ask for his?

She stared at the cooling mug of tea on the coffee table.

Amelia:

No.

Lucy:

Amelia Carter...

She groaned.

Amelia:

I know.

Lucy:

You met a gorgeous man who rescued you with the greatest fake-boyfriend entrance in history...

Lucy:

...and then you let him disappear?

Amelia:

I wasn't exactly thinking straight.

Lucy:

Clearly.

Honestly.

I leave you alone for one Friday evening...

Amelia smiled.

Amelia:

You'll have to come with me next week.

Lucy:

Deal.

But if Mr Fake Boyfriend turns up again, I'm pretending I don't know you.

Amelia:

Traitor.

Lucy:

Night, Amelia.

Try not to fall in love with any more mysterious strangers before breakfast.

Amelia:

No promises.

Night, Lucy.

The conversation had done exactly what Lucy had intended. The anxiety had eased, the shaking had stopped and she no longer felt like crying. She felt... lighter. Even so, as she plugged her phone into its charger and switched off the lamp beside the sofa, one thought refused to leave her.

Jake.

She doubted she would ever see him again. Yet somehow, that thought disappointed her far more than it should have.

Outside, the city settled into the quiet rhythm of another ordinary night. Neither Amelia nor Jake knew that their lives had changed forever.

Not because of the man who had refused to leave her alone. But because of the man who had.