Sam exited through the foyer of the main university building, the Lost Girl hurrying alongside him.
It was dark outside, a swirling breeze picking up and the temperature low enough for him to pause to fasten his jacket.
‘Thank you again,’ the Lost Girl said. ‘For everything.’
He wondered why she was still following him. Was even starting to wonder if she was hanging around for other reasons. He doubted she had a crush on him. She could be one of those students who wanted him to think that she had a crush on him, but if that was the case, he couldn’t understand her angle. The colleague she’d asked him to email was in the Department of Geography and the Environment, not his own. Perhaps she’d ask him for more emails down the line.
‘You’re welcome,’ Sam told her, not just distracted by disabling the airplane mode on his phone and surveying the traffic that was already beginning to slow and coagulate on the streets around them, but also needing her to see and appreciate that he was distracted, had other priorities, reasons to move on with his day.
He had to be careful about this. He didn’t want to upset her, not when she was vulnerable.
‘I’m starting to wonder if I might actually sleep tonight, thanks to you.’
‘That’s great,’ Sam said. ‘Truly.’
As he scanned the square in front of him, he was surprised to find that the rest of the group were more or less arrayed around him, too.
The Librarian was sitting on a stone bench off to his left, vaping aggressively and talking on his phone.
Over by a coffee cart that was being closed up for the day, the Athlete and the Artist were engaged in casual conversation, the Athlete standing with his feet shoulder-width apart and his big arms folded, the Artist toying with the strap of her bag as if she was shaping up to leave but making no effort to actually go.
Behind them was the taxi rank, where the Boxer was resting his palms on the roof of a black cab, talking through the open window to a driver he seemingly knew. Noticing Sam, his expression became guarded and he returned his attention to what the driver was saying to him, apparently wary that Sam might approach him and give away his dark secret.
‘Do you have any phobias?’ the Lost Girl asked. ‘It just occurred to me, you heard all of ours, so I was thinking—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sam told the Lost Girl, jerking a thumb over his shoulder with an apologetic grimace, setting off in the direction of Temple station. ‘But I really have to run to get my Tube. My girlfriend’s expecting me. I need to get home.’