I woke up to the sound of my alarm, and my first thought was of Elijah. It was nice to have met a man, even if it was only fleeting. But that was OK, that was how I liked it. Relationships are hard and involve too much leg shaving and sharing and trust.
I yawned and made myself get out of bed. Jon’s note had said 7.30 a.m., so I piled on some winter woollies and my lovely mac, and paused just before heading out the door. Should I try Anne again? I hovered with my phone in my hand. No, it was too early.
I reached the near-deserted lobby and was mid-yawn when Jon swung through the revolving door, bringing in a gust of cold air, dark and snow. He was carrying two takeaway coffee cups, a paper bag dangling from his wrist, and a big smile.
‘You made it! Good morning, sleepyhead!’ He leaned over and kissed my cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world and I flash-remembered Elijah’s face and lips from last night. Kissing was nice . . . I snapped out of it, realising I was staring at Jon’s lips. Could Jon tell from my lips what I’d been doing last night?
‘Of course,’ I said quickly. ‘Mmm, coffee . . . ’
‘And breakfast. Almond croissant OK?’
‘Perfect,’ I yelped, my stomach growling on cue.
‘We have to go, you ready?’
‘Yep, where are we going?’
He motioned for me to exit the hotel first and though I was steady on the sidewalk outside, his long legs slipped immediately on the ice and he had to steady himself on me. ‘Careful out here,’ he smiled, and took my hand.
‘Haha, get off, you baby.’ A little nervous laughter escaped and I looked behind me back at the hotel. The last thing I needed was Jasmine or Abigail or someone catching me holding hands with Jon and giving me ‘we knew it’ faces.
I adjusted my earmuffs, pushing my rapidly frizzing hair up and out of my eyes, and slotted an arm through Jon’s for balance, freeing my hands to hold my coffee cup in one and stuff croissant into my mouth with the other.
‘Nice, huh?’ Jon smiled at the sight of my scarf covered in flaked almonds and icing sugar. ‘I got them out of a bin just around the corner.’
I laughed. ‘Yum. Hey, did you look at the UK weather this morning?’
‘I did – it still looks pretty grim. I’d be surprised if we fly out today.’
I sighed. ‘The BA woman said they’d send a rep to the hotel at eleven thirty this morning to give us an update one way or another. How about Virgin?’
‘Twelve.’
‘So we have this morning at least. Can I know where we’re going or not?’
‘You can! Now I know you went to the Empire State Building last night, that Elijah totally stole my plan, but if you can handle one more spectacular view I’ve got something I think you’ll love.’
I looked up at the dark sky and watched the white speckles of snow appear as if from nowhere and float down around us. I chose my words carefully, not wanting to sound insulting about Elijah or the date. ‘Actually, we didn’t go up the Empire State in the end – I made a mistake. We just met there and then went to dinner.’
‘He met you at the Empire State but didn’t take you up there? Wow, that’s ice-ice-baby-cold.’ He peeped a look at me, smirking. ‘What a tease.’
I shoved him with my elbow. ‘We had a really nice dinner, the restaurant was apparently some New York staple, so it was, in fact, a great experience, and I feel richer for having done it. So there.’
‘Then he’s done me a favour – now I don’t feel like you’ll be too bored doing what we have planned.’
We reached the Brooklyn Bridge. In front of us New York was waking up, its lights coming on and the sky slowly turning lighter. I stopped and took in the view of Manhattan.
‘I love looking at this city.’ I breathed in a lungful of frosty air.
‘I’m very glad to hear that.’
‘What do we have planned?’
‘What’s your favourite place in New York?’ he asked, and we continued walking over the bridge.
I thought. ‘Central Park?’
He smiled at me. ‘Really? We only went there yesterday.’
‘I know, but it was so relaxing – no, screw Central Park: Rockefeller! Rockefeller will always be my favourite – sorry, Kim!’ I called into the early morning air.
‘Correct! So you and I are jumping on a subway to 30 Rock, and heading up to the top.’
‘To the top of the 30 Rock? Is that allowed?’
‘Yes, it’s called Top of the Rock and you get these amazing views across the city, and you can look down at the tree which will make Kim jealous, and the best thing is that when you go up 30 Rock your view includes the Empire State Building, which is pretty cool. So to hell with Elijah and his not-taking-you-up-the-most-famous-building-in-the-world. This is going to be even better.’
‘Wait. You can really go to the top of the Rockefeller Center?’
‘Yes you can, if you want to?’
‘Hell, yes, I want to! Jon, you’re the best!’ I took off in a speed walk across the rest of the Brooklyn Bridge, snow blowing into my face, and Jon jogging to catch up with me. ‘Come on, Jon,’ I called back into the wind. ‘We don’t have all day.’
Being inside the Rockefeller Center made me feel like Liz Lemon. I took about a dozen photos before we even got up to the observation deck so I could send them to Kim.
But then I saw the view from the top and . . . it was everything. Pale yellows and blues danced off glass skyscrapers as the morning sun washed over the city with an icy calmness. Building tops were white with overnight snow, and in the distance Lady Liberty’s flame glinted over the New York harbour. And front and centre was the Empire State Building, standing tall and iconic. I found myself thinking, not for the first time on this trip, I love this city.
Jon turned to face the view and take a photo on his phone. ‘So if we don’t go home today, if we get another night in New York City, will you be free for the rest of the day or will you be seeing Elijah again?’
I examined Jon’s profile. ‘I might see him again. Assuming he wants to as well. I farted on our date, you know.’
Jon did a double take that nearly had him lobbing his phone over the side of Rockefeller Center.
‘You farted? Did he . . . notice?’
‘I don’t know. It was only a small one and I was laughing quite loudly so maybe not.’ I shrugged. ‘Everybody does it, we’re all human and I’m not ashamed. But maybe he’s not into a modern woman.’
Jon chuckled and went back to taking photos. I stuffed my gloved hands into my pockets and exhaled a cloud of chilly vapour into the cold morning air. ‘But yes, if he wants to hang out again I think I will. It’s good to make the most of people if you’re only with them a short period of time.’
‘Says the girl who’s been longing to get home and have some time to herself ever since we arrived. What’s so special about Elijah?’
I rolled my eyes at his tone of voice; I didn’t know what he had against the name ‘Elijah’. ‘I can’t say if there’s anything special about him yet, but I’m just dying to find out,’ I laughed. ‘Or maybe I’ll just hang out by myself. You’re right; me, myself and I are frankly gagging for each other’s company. We might go Christmas shopping, like a normal person in December. But thank you for this,’ I added, afraid he’d think I was ungrateful for what he was trying to do for me.
I waited for him to turn his gaze to me.
‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘Thank you for bringing me here. Thanks for being my guardian Clarence angel and showing me a bit of what New York is really all about.’
‘What New York at Christmas is all about,’ Jon clarified, ‘and we’re just getting started. I have plenty more up my sleeve if we don’t go home today.’
‘Are you worried at all?’
‘About what?’
‘About the snow. About not getting home for Christmas.’
Jon shook his head, beaming a smile out over Manhattan and jiggling on the spot to keep warm. ‘Nope, I’m quite happy. Besides, the UK has the silliest weather in the world. It may be a white Christmas now, but give it a couple of days and it’ll be washed away by rain and by New Year’s we’ll have a heatwave. Then it’ll hail and go back to cold again. So no, I’m not worried, we’ll get home.’
‘It’s Boxing Day one week from today, you know.’ We walked around the observation deck to face Central Park; a patchy white blanket draped over seven miles of the city.
‘So it is.’
‘What do you think you’ll be doing this time in a week? It’s about one thirty in the afternoon at home.’
‘I’ll be long gone. My whole family will be. We’d have recently finished a huge lunch of leftovers, and something will be showing on the TV, like an Agatha Christie adaptation or The NeverEnding Story, and whoever had got stuck with the washing up will have full use of the two sofas to lie back on. Everyone else will be in some overstuffed state of coma draped over the armchairs or in a pool on the floor. The wrapping paper from Christmas Day will still be in disarray around us, someone will have trodden chocolate orange into the carpet, which one of the dogs will be licking at, and the kids will keep falling asleep and then waking up to either play with presents or ask why they don’t have any presents left. Ahh, it’s the best time of the day.’ He smiled. ‘What do you think you’ll be doing this time next week?’
‘Well, I have a Christmas tree, which is a first for me,’ I said, proudly. ‘But there won’t be presents or wrapping under it. Which is fine, by the way. So I think I’ll be munching bacon, curled on my sofa, reading some grisly book about murder which I’ll love, and probably taking frequent naps in various places around the house.’
‘Like a cat.’
‘Indeed.’ I looked at my watch and sighed. ‘But I don’t know, maybe I’ll stick on a Christmas film after all – something New Yorky, something like Elf. Now, I really don’t want to leave, but we need to get back to the hotel soon.’
Jon sighed. ‘It’s that time already? All right.’ We began making our way towards the elevators down. ‘I don’t want to leave either,’ he said. ‘Not at all.’
We squished into the lift with a whole lot of other people, and I was pressed against Jon, eyeball to pec. ‘Rockefeller, or New York?’ I asked.
‘A bit of both. It feels like there’s a little magic in the air at the moment.’
‘Because of Christmas? I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think I’m beginning to understand what you mean.’
‘Yeah,’ Jon agreed. ‘Because of Christmas.’
Back at the hotel, Jon and I hung around the lobby looking at the photos from this morning on our phones and drinking the free coffee, waiting for the BA rep and the other members of Girls of the World to arrive. Abigail arrived first, bags under eyes and make-up free. She looked worried, and sad. Before I could go to her, Dee appeared, with Ian strolling over casually moments behind her. They did not look sad. They looked like they could be on their honeymoon, with their easy smiles and relaxed demeanours. Jasmine was last, wearing her flight outfit again, fully intending to go home as soon as she possibly could, through hell, high water, or deep snow.
Since the Virgin rep wasn’t due for another half an hour, Jon hung about close by to earwig, and Carl joined him.
The BA rep arrived and began with a sigh, which is never a positive start. ‘I’m sorry to say that, as yet, there’s no improvement with the weather in the UK.’
There was a collective groan from the group of passengers, but I did spot Ian lightly stroke the back of Dee’s hand with his.
‘Is it getting worse?’ asked Abigail.
‘Well . . . yes. There is definitely a disimprovement, to be honest. No flights will operate today. If there’s any change whatsoever we’ll attempt to reach you all by phone, and will also contact the hotel here who will post any updates on that flipchart over there by the coffee machine.’
‘So we, um, could we fly somewhere else and then get a train into the UK?’ Abigail pressed. ‘If it’s not improving how are we going to get home for Christmas?’
The BA rep shook her head. ‘I don’t know. We have considered diverting our flights to elsewhere in Europe, but many of their airports are closed too. Their train stations are closed. Their roads are closed.’ She looked at our faces as this sank in. ‘Europe is under a blanket of snow.’
As a group we stood silently, digesting this information for a moment until one woman piped up with, ‘This is bloody ridiculous. You wait years for a white Christmas and when one finally comes you’ve buggered off to America.’
We all nodded in agreement, concluding that it really was bloody rude of the weather.
The BA rep continued. ‘There’s still the best part of a week before Christmas, so don’t get disillusioned yet. But I do understand – I want to go home too. My husband cooks a cracking turkey.’
I for one had no right to complain. I wanted to go home so I could sit on my arse on my own, my biggest decision being whether to eat cold pizza or a packet of Pop-Tarts for breakfast. Whether to watch Pitch Perfect for the ten millionth time or finally get round to watching Blackfish, like I’d told everybody I already had. But some people, including this poor woman, actually had plans. With real-life people.
OK, as Kim would say: no grumbling. It is what it is. I pulled out my phone and began to walk away from the group.
‘Are you calling Elijah?’ Jon stopped me.
‘No, I was calling my parents, but then yeah, I might call Elijah.’
‘Let’s go ice-skating!’ he bellowed, fists in the air.
‘YES,’ cried Carl, standing up behind Jon, munching into a big bag of Lay’s.
‘Let’s go ice-skating, with Carl,’ Jon said, a little less enthusiastically.
‘You’re going ice-skating?’ said Abigail softly. ‘Can I come with you? I can’t really think of anything to do by myself for another day.’
‘Ice-skating! What fun! Can we come? I mean, can I come?’ piped up Dee, followed by Ian with, ‘Yes, and can I come too, if you’re all going?’
Jon was grinning at me, and although he was definitely doing this on purpose – he seemed very anti-Elijah – ice-skating did sound very New York at Christmas, and what did I promise myself?
‘Fine, sounds great. I’m just going to update my parents and then I’ll call Elijah, see if he wants to join us.’ I smirked and was about to turn away when I remembered. ‘In the meantime, shouldn’t you wait for the Virgin rep to actually confirm you two aren’t flying today?’
‘Oh yeah . . . ’
I rang Mum and gave her the news that I wouldn’t be home for another day. She asked me to give Anne a ring, as if I hadn’t been trying, and she also updated me on Lucy (still not on a plane to Thailand: still not a happy bunny: potential to fly today, though unlikely). Then I called Elijah.
‘Hello,’ I said, my heart thumping.
‘Hi,’ he replied, yawning.
‘It’s Olivia.’
‘The Big O. I know it’s you, my British butterfly.’
I shuddered. ‘The Big O’ brought back memories from high school and teenage boys thinking they were funny. I ignored that part. ‘So you may have already heard, but the BA rep is here at the hotel and she just confirmed we won’t be flying today. Maybe tomorrow, she said, though . . . ’ I paused.
‘Well that sucks. Or maybe it doesn’t. You all right, O?’ he asked, sounding concerned. I liked when he called me ‘O’, just not ‘The Big O’.
I edged further away from the group. ‘I don’t think we’ll go home tomorrow. I mean already they have two days of backlog and the storms don’t look like they’re going to clear anytime soon. I’m not sure I’m going to get my team home for Christmas.’
‘Or you?’
‘Me, not so important.’
‘I think you’re important.’
‘But I’m not going home to anything, or anyone, which is kind of the point, but I feel bad for them . . . Anyway. I don’t know if you’re at all interested but we’re going to go ice-skating this afternoon, if you want to join us. If you want to meet up again. It’s no biggie if you don’t, you know, whatever, man . . . ’ I trailed off and waited.
‘I mean, I want to see you, but . . . ice-skating?’
‘Yep. Getting my Christmas on, bitches.’ Cringe.
‘And you don’t want to just go to a bar? I’ll buy you mulled wine.’
‘Nope. I can do that anywhere.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Ice-skating it is.’
‘Ice-skating where?’
I held the phone away and called over to Jon. ‘Ice-skating where?’
‘Rockefeller?’ Jon suggested.
Hearing him, Elijah groaned down the phone. ‘Ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, oh my god. What are you turning me into?’
‘Well, if you want to see me that’s where I’ll be.’
He chuckled. ‘Bossy lady, aren’t you?’
‘Nope.’ I smiled. ‘But you live in New York all the time. I’m only here for . . . well, who knows how long. And I’ve not shown Ms Manhattan the respect and attention she deserves so don’t go thinking I’m going to let you boss me around and tell me what I can and can’t do while I’m here.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Seriously though, if you don’t want to come ice-skating that’s completely fine. I understand that you’re a very cool and steely musician type so why don’t I meet you for dinner or a drink after skating and you can show me another little slice of your New York? If you want to?’
‘Nope, I’ve got exactly nowhere to be, so let’s do this.’
‘Good. See you at Rockefeller Plaza in an hour.’
I hung up with a satisfied smile on my face. Yes, the prospect of another afternoon in close proximity to Elijah had me feeling very satisfied indeed. Whiskey memories entered my head.
Though the BA rep was long gone, Jasmine, who had expressed no interest in joining in the ice-skating expedition, was nonetheless still loitering around the lobby after I finished my phone calls.
‘Jasmine? Are you coming ice-skating?’
She sighed. ‘Ice-skating? Don’t you have to be, like, five?’
‘Fair enough. See you here again tomorrow then, when the BA rep comes back.’
‘I’ll come if you want.’ She shrugged.
‘I’m not about to beg you.’ I turned to everyone else. ‘Anyone coming ice-skating, let’s meet back down here in half an hour, after Jon and Carl’s Virgin rep has been. OK? OK.’
Back up in my room I closed the door behind me and leant back against it, like they do on TV shows when they need to let out a good sigh. But I held it in. I wanted this. I promised myself to give Christmas a go, and I really did want to get out there and be with New York.
‘Listen,’ I said to myself in the mirror, pretending I was Kim, giving me a thorough talking-to. ‘Nobody is asking you to be in charge any more, so stop acting like you have to be. If you don’t want to hang out with these people then don’t, but if you agree to it then don’t you grumble, you goddamn . . . knobhead.’ Ouch, tough love.
We arrived at Rockefeller Center – all of us, Jasmine included – to find a queue to the ice rink snaking all the way up from the bottom level, around several railings and down along one side of the angels.
‘Wow,’ I murmured.
‘This looks fun,’ commented Jasmine, and then shut up when I gave her a cold glare to rival the ice below.
At that moment I saw Elijah striding towards me, an amused look on his face. ‘I just asked one of the attendants at the front how long the queue is and if we join it now we can expect to be on the rink in, oooh, about two to three hours’ time. Welcome to New York in the holidays, ladies and gentlemen. Hey, by the way,’ he said to me and swooped down, greeting me with a kiss on the lips which left everyone, me included, with raised eyebrows.
‘Um, so, um,’ I stuttered. ‘Let me explain, everybody. Elijah and I went out last night and we kissed and that’s OK, because even though I’m your boss, currently, I still have . . . urges.’ Oh for God’s sake, shut up, they weren’t my children. Also I was not complaining – I liked kissing Elijah. Everyone would just have to get over it. ‘I’m some of your bosses,’ I clarified, looking at Carl (who was sniggering and eating a hot dog) and then at Jon (who was looking away, back towards the ice rink, his hands in his pocket).
‘Elijah, you know Jasmine, Dee, Ian and Abigail. And this is Carl, and this is Jon. Jon? Jon, meet Elijah.’
Jon turned and met Elijah’s eye and stuck out his hand. ‘Elijah. Of the complimentary Subways fame.’
‘That’s me.’
‘A no-strings-attached free Subway sandwich . . . Americans are so friendly.’
‘Oh, we can be super friendly.’
They shook hands. I don’t know how watching two men shake hands could be awkward, but it was. My bits were curling inside themselves with the awkwardness of it all. I started to sweat.
‘Anyone else hot?’ I squeaked.
Jasmine shook her head. ‘Menopause?’
‘Let’s go ice skatingggg!’ I whooped with too much excitement. We looked at the queue. Er, perhaps not.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Elijah.
‘Don’t say a bar,’ I warned.
‘Not a bar, but we don’t have to stay in this tourist trap.’
‘Hey, this is Liv’s favourite place in New York, buddy, and skating is what we’ve all got planned, OK?’ said Jon.
I stared at him. I’d never seen him so . . . passive aggressive. ‘Hear him out, Jon,’ I said.
‘I was just going to suggest skating somewhere a little less . . . ’ Elijah began.
‘Touristy?’ I asked, rolling my eyes at him.
He smiled at me. ‘ . . . crowded. Come on, Bryant Park is like, seven blocks away. It has an ice rink, a tree, Christmas markets, all that shit. And it’s all outside the New York Public Library, which may not be as tall as Rockefeller but is still pretty famous.’
I gasped. ‘The New York Public Library? In the snow? Oh, it’s going to be just like The Day After Tomorrow. Without the dying and things. But with the ice. But without the book burning. But with the closed airports. Let’s do it!’
We all walked away from Rockefeller and as we were rounding the corner onto Fifth Avenue I took one last look behind me at the tree – I might not see it again this trip – and caught Jon’s eye who was a few feet behind me.
‘The library,’ I mouthed and he smiled, his eyes having softened from the strange glares he’d been giving Elijah a few moments ago.
Jon knew all about my love of libraries. During our first conference together I’d chewed his ear off so much about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo books which I’d been really into at the time, telling him that he had to read them, that eventually I’d marched him to the nearest library and made him sit there with me while he read chapter one and could tell me what he thought.
He had liked it. Smiley face.
We’d got into a habit for a while of always making sure we both knew where the nearest library was for every conference, in case we needed to go again, but it hadn’t even crossed my mind that one of the world’s most famous libraries was right here in New York City.
We strolled down Fifth Avenue. I was walking hand in hand with a man, snow falling lightly, giant window displays showing ten-foot-high pictures of models in red lipstick and tartan scarves. It all felt so surreal to me. To the average passer-by, Elijah and I probably looked like a couple on holiday. Probably like any one of those couples I’d been staring at two nights ago when Jon and I had been standing by the Rockefeller tree.
But it was just a façade. I was killing time, really, if I was honest with myself. Elijah was funny, and easy on the eyes, and generous, and a little bit arrogant in a way that strangely appealed to me, but what I liked the most about the whole situation was that it was temporary. I didn’t have any expectations. This wasn’t the beginning of some great love affair, it wasn’t going to last, which meant he couldn’t let me down. So as long as those were the rules, I was on board. I wasn’t ready for anything more right now. Maybe not ever. But for now, this temporary situation where I got to kiss a handsome man whenever I liked was OK with me.
Bryant Park was a square packed with wooden Christmas market huts, a blue-lit ice rink, a big, plush, tree covered in electric blue fairy lights and the library overlooking it all. There was also much less of a queue.
It didn’t take us long to get out on the ice. Once there, Jasmine whizzed off to be on her own, though Carl followed her, a surprisingly competent and graceful skater. Dee and Ian finally got to hold hands in public under the guise of helping each other, and the rest of us stayed in a group. At one point I caught Jon’s eye as I whizzed past him and he jokingly flailed about like we were in Central Park again. I laughed out loud, but Elijah skated in front of me and stole my attention away with an amuse bouche of a kiss.
A while later our skating session was finished, and I politely but firmly bid farewell to the others and then turned to Elijah. ‘All right, mister, we made it through ice-skating, and nobody died, and you didn’t get caught by your friends and kicked out of the band for being utterly uncool, so now it’s over to you. What do you want to do tonight?’
‘Well . . . ’ He moved closer. ‘Shouldn’t we make the most of our precious time together?’ His eyes twinkled, a wicked grin on his stubbly face.
I shrugged. ‘Mmm . . . I don’t know if I like you like that yet.’
‘Oh you don’t?’ he laughed.
‘Nope. I mean, you’re OK. You have a good sense of the type of food I like, and I can’t stress how important that is in a man. But I don’t know . . . I need a bit more convincing.’
Elijah leant in so I could feel his breath on my lips. ‘How can I convince you?’ he drawled, and I swear my knickers leapt up my shelangalang. But it would take a little more than a foxy accent, mate.
I pulled my head back. ‘Show me more New York, Elijah style.’
He tossed his hair out of his eyes and scanned the street up and down, finally settling his gaze on something and shooting that grin across his face again. ‘Come with me.’ He took my hand.
We bypassed the Christmas market stalls selling delicious-scented hot cider, and instead went into a nearby bar, where Elijah ordered us two Budweisers and opened the conversation with, ‘So what’s up with that Jon guy? Is he an ex?’
‘What? No. No, no, no. Absolutely not. We’re just friends, not exes, or anything. Nope, just friends.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that – was that a “no”?’
‘It was a no.’
‘He seemed pissed with me.’
‘Noooo, he’s just antsy because he wants to get home as soon as possible, I’m sure. You know, we’re now, what, six nights to Christmas Day? And I think everyone’s just getting a bit worried, the closer it gets, that we might not get back.’ Speaking to Elijah about Jon, specifically, felt too . . . I wanted to keep the conversation neutral. About everyone. Everyone but Jon.
‘They all like their Christmases at home, huh?’
‘This is like a ticking bomb to them. I guess you aren’t really bothered either way?’ I speculated.
‘Exactly. Whatever, man, I’m travelling to get out of New York over the holidays.’ He laughed and gulped at his beer. ‘Don’t even get me started on New Year’s Eve in this city.’
‘I can’t believe you’d say that,’ I cried. ‘I might not be wrapping the tinsel around my neck for Christmas, but the more I see of New York the more I love it. There’s something about cities, the buildings, the rain on pavements, the endless food choices. You’re a lucky man. So there.’
Elijah necked his Bud. ‘Consider me told. So, tell me about your city, London girl. If we were there, where would you be taking me? What’s great about it?’
‘Everything’s great about London, but in truth I don’t explore it as much as I should. I’ve been trying to save my money for a while.’
‘Being a feminist doesn’t pay well?’
I laughed. ‘My job pays great, but, well, I’m trying to build up a house deposit. A few years ago I had a boyfriend and things went pretty wrong, and he was a collossal dick, and I guess I’m only just starting to realise how little I’ve enjoyed myself since.’
‘Is that when you joined Girls of the World?’
‘It was around then. I joined shortly before we split up.’
‘So your boyfriend was a douche and you became uber-feminist – classic.’
‘No, I didn’t become a feminist because I got dumped. I’m a feminist because it would feel completely unnatural not to be. My mum has always been a human rights activist – she’ll march in Pride festivals, she’ll show up outside abortion clinics and yell at the people who are yelling at the women going in, she’ll camp outside Westminster on behalf of refugees. She’s passed that on to me. Feminism is human rights, it’s nothing to do with hating men. Wait . . . don’t you listen to Beyoncé?’
‘Not generally . . . ’
I think that was enough schooling for now. I took a drink. ‘I’ve always believed in equality, and I like to fight for it. So you better be a feminist.’
‘Oh, I love women.’
‘Good. I think I have a lot to teach you.’
‘You do, I’m all ears. But first, let’s drink.’
I was taking off my earrings back in my hotel bedroom, my emotions – and hormones – heightened from another fun and kissing-filled evening with Elijah, when I heard a noise out in the corridor. A shuffling noise that sounded like someone walking back and forth past my door, and the rap-rap-rap-rap-rap of knuckles sliding across the walls. There was muttering, too.
As I moved closer to the door I made out the words ‘Elijah Wood’ and ‘Twwwwwwwat.’
I opened the door and came face to face with Jon. He was wearing PJ bottoms and a shirt that was loose and unbuttoned at the neck, with one sleeve rolled up. He looked like someone who’d sleepwalked their way to an Oscars after-party. He looked cute. He stopped pacing when he saw me and grinned, swaying on the spot. ‘Livia!’
‘Jon!’ I chuckled. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Nope.’ Sigh. ‘Nope, nope I don’t think you can.’ He sighed a second time. ‘Where’s Elijaaaah?’
‘At home, I guess. Did you have a good night?’
Jon shrugged and looked up and down the corridor. ‘Elijah Wood is at his home. And you are here. And I went with Carl to a very nice bar at the top of 30 Rock with views over the city, and actually, actually, I should have gone up there with you.’
I leant against my doorframe, amused, and a touch jealous – I would have liked to have gone there with him as well, at some point. ‘Looks like you had a pretty good time with Carl. Did you wear your pyjamas?’
‘Pfffffft, you’re drunk,’ he laughed.
‘I think you’re drunk.’
‘Carl’s drunk.’
‘Where is Carl?’
‘He’s in our room. The bar was called Bar SixtyFive, because it’s on floor . . . floor . . . ’
‘Sixty-five?’ I guessed.
‘Sixty-five! The views. The cocktails. You. Did you know Carl snores?’
‘So I’ve heard. Do you want to come in?’
Jon moved over to me and leaned against the door-frame so we were close, our faces inches apart. He smiled at me, his eyelids dropping and his hair flopping over his forehead. He sighed deeply and reached for my one remaining earring. ‘The question is: do you want me to come in?’
My breathing slowed and for a moment the corridor was silent except for the tiny tinkle of my earring as he played with it gently between his fingers. I remained completely still so that I didn’t inadvertently find myself rubbing my cheek against his hand.
‘Jon,’ I said softly. ‘You can have a coffee but that’s it.’
‘Come in for coffee?’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘I think the kids call it Netflix and chill these days.’
‘Not what I’m offering,’ I said gently. ‘I think you really could use a coffee.’
‘I want to take you on a date.’
Oh God.
Nope, shut-up, don’t say that, take it back, take it baaaaack.
I stared at him and he stared at me for a moment, and I silently begged him not to say more, not to move us out of the Friend Zone. ‘No you don’t.’ I let out a titter to break the ice. ‘It’s bedtime. Alone.’
He nodded and turned around, several times, unsure which room was his. Then he looked back at me, that goofy grin back in place. ‘Not tonight, bozo. But while we’re here, in New York. You deserve a muthaflippin AMAZING New York City Christmas date, like Rachel Green.’
I sniggered at his reference. ‘I’m already having New York Christmas dates, if that’s what you want to call them, with Elijah. Maybe you could take Dani?’
‘Danny Dyer?’ He shook his head. ‘He is a top bloke, but nope. You.’
‘Dani from your work. She seemed nice.’
‘You’re nice.’
‘But I’m busy, with Elijah.’ I tried to be a bit firmer, a warning to Jon that he’d regret it in the morning if he crossed a line that I hadn’t opened up to be crossed.
‘What does Elijah know about anything? He doesn’t know anything about New York dates.’
‘He lives here . . . ’
Jon stepped back, leaned over me and kissed the top of my head and for a moment I was engulfed by the warmth of his chest. ‘If I was taking you on a date it would be something you’d really want to do. Something to make you fall in love with New York, and Christmas, and everything about the exact time and place you’re in . . . not just fall in love with me.’ Then he pulled back, grinned, and strode off down the corridor with a parting ‘Elijah Got-No-Wood, amirite?’
I went back into my room and closed the door. Then as I removed my second earring I looked at it and thought of Jon. Was he serious? No, he was drunk. Everyone wanted to snog everyone when they were drunk. In the morning he wouldn’t remember anything about it. I hoped.