Page 7 of In the Same Boat

‘I did help,’ I reply. ‘I was damage control.’

‘You could have been more enthusiastic.’

‘I was appropriately enthusiastic,’ I insist. ‘Given that they clearly didn’t want to talk to us.’

He shakes his head, smiling to himself.

‘You’ve got to take more risks,’ he tells me.

‘I came here,’ I remind him. ‘That’s already a deviation from my usual pattern.’

‘That’s not a risk,’ he says. ‘That’s a location change.’

I take a sip of my drink. Coming here with him – that’s the risk.

‘What would you define as a risk?’ I ask curiously.

‘Talking to someone you actually like,’ he says.

‘I don’t know if I like anyone here yet,’ I point out.

‘That’s because you’re not letting yourself find out.’

This doesn’t feel like the time or the place to get into that. I’m not about to explain myself next to a woman dancing on a table.

We stand there for a bit, watching the room. Hank is clearly scoping out his next target, so he’s gone quiet.

Hank – I’m having to remind myself to call him that, as per his request. It feels wrong. I’m so sure I’m going to blurt out the wrong thing that I’m having to remind myself to call him Hank in my head. For all the difference it will make.

‘You’re doing it again,’ he practically sings at me.

‘Doing what?’

‘Observing instead of engaging.’

He laughs again, then nudges me slightly.

‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Your turn.’

‘My turn for what?’

‘Talking to someone.’

‘I just did.’

‘You assisted,’ he says. ‘Now initiate.’

I look around.

There are people everywhere. Conversations overlapping, music drowning out almost every word, a glass smashes and everyone cheers and claps.

‘This is just not my scene.’

‘That’s the point,’ he replies. ‘You’re too comfortable in your usual places.’

‘I like my usual places,’ I say. ‘I know what I’m getting there.’

‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘And what has that got you?’