“Not many,” I said, more honestly than I’d intended. There was something freeing about sitting with a stranger I’d never see again that allowed me to be more open.
“My patience level is lower than it used to be too.”
I looked over at her, quickly assessing whether I was invading her space. Heat burned my cheeks, which only made me feel more of a dick. I was a twenty-three-year-old man and I was blushing like a teenage girl.
“You’re fine,” she said, as if she could sense my worries. “You don’t strike me as an idiot.”
“I think my girlfriend would disagree.” I said the words with a smile, as if I was joking, and Evie smiled back at me.
“I doubt that. She’s probably just screwing with you. I’m sure she loves you really.”
That’s what she tells me…
I smiled again to cover how uncomfortable I suddenly was. “What about your boyfriend? I bet he does something cool.”
She laughed. “Why do you think I have a boyfriend?”
“Why wouldn’t you? You seem nice.”
As she laughed harder, I wondered if she was laughing at me. I was probably quite naïve compared to her, but I wasn’t sure what I’d said was that funny.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m divorced, actually.”
“Divorced?” I blurted out. “You’re not old enough to be married and divorced.”
“I like you,” she said, tipping her glass towards me slightly. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a small groan before taking a much larger gulp of her drink. “Oh, Jesus. You look older. You’re a baby. I miss my youth.”
Evie quickly diverted the conversation from age and we started talking about music and the bands we liked. We had so much in common, I was surprised we hadn’t met somewhere before.
We sat in the bar talking for an hour before Evie said it was probably time to go to bed. She was right, especially as I had to get an early train. If I hadn’t, I might have thought about asking if she wanted another drink. She was easy to talk to. I was surprised I’d kept up with her. I wasn’t very good at small talk. It was probably the topic of conversation. Music was one thing I could discuss with confidence.
We were staying on different floors, and hers was lower than mine. Before she got out of the lift, she said, “Come with me a sec.”
I hesitated and she chuckled. Putting her hand out to stop the doors before they closed, she said, “I’m not propositioning you. I just wanted to give you my card. This might sound a little strange but if you go to gigs alone and so do I, and we like the same music, maybe we could meet sometime. As long as you don’t mind me being a nervous wreck.”
There was s
omething kind in her eyes. She was really pretty, but not like most girls. She wasn’t caked in make-up she’d learned how to do by watching YouTube videos. She was natural.
Yeah. This will go down well with Natalie.
“Okay,” was all I said, and she smiled at me and we walked down the corridor to her room.
As she unlocked the door to room 330, I stood in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot like a twat. I couldn’t go in there; she hadn’t invited me. She was gone for less than a minute, and when she came back, she handed me a card. Her fingers gripped it for a moment, as if unsure before letting go.
“Is this weird?” she asked. “Giving you my card? I’m so much older than you, and…”
“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. She clearly had some weird hang-up about her age, and I didn’t get it. “I know it’s wrong to ask, but how much older than me can you possibly be?”
Her eyebrows lowered. “I might regret this but, how old do you think I am?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Twenty-five?”
“Oh!” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly. It was only brief but my whole body stiffened at the contact. She winced when she noticed. “I’m so sorry, that was inappropriate. But I really needed to hear that. I’m twenty-nine. Quickly approaching thirty.”