Page 27 of The Best Ex of My Life

Twenty minutes later, Karina has given up, and Teddy has moved the conversation on to telling us about her upcoming meeting with her knob of a boss, Ed, who she knows is going to ask her to increase her hours without increasing her crappy salary. Talk of work finally makes me move, and I head home to my pile of marking. But much as I’m willing to lose myself in year nine interpretations of the First World War poets, my mind won’t settle to the task and keeps veering from the Somme to Teddy and Elliot.

Now I’m back on my own, the relief I felt when Teddy said nothing about Elliot has disappeared. Her not saying she had sex isn’t the same as her saying nothing happened. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure that if she hadn’t, she’d have told us. I kind of wish Teddy had just come out and said it: I’ve had sex with Elliot. At least then I’d know and would be able to move past it. Not that I’d admit it to them seeing as this whole thing was my bright idea, but my two friends going out with each other is weird, and the not knowing makes it even weirder. If Teddy would tell me, I’d be able to deal with it. I’m sure, given time, I’d be able to get used to Teddy and Elliot regularly having sex. I decide not to unpick what the shudder that runs through my body at the thought might mean.

The thing is, ordinarily, I’d have a step-by-step account of Teddy’s dates. Teddy’s view of how friendship works has always been that you share everything. That’s how I know my old neighbour, Harry, who Teddy dated when she was eighteen, has his penis pierced, and how I know that Drew Anderson, the guy on my teacher training course I introduced her to, doesn’t believe in foreplay. I’m used to being given the details of her dating life. Without them, my mind is free to make up the events of her and Elliot’s second date, and it is running wild. I imagine them going back to Elliot’s flat, sitting on his couch drinking wine. I imagine them kissing, then one of them breaking off and holding out a hand, them standing up and moving to his bedroom, stopping every few footsteps to kiss again, because now they’ve started, the idea of their lips being apart has become unbearable.

I imagine them afterwards, in his bed, legs tangled like spaghetti, talking softly to each other. And the morning after, how different it will have been to the morning after Elliot and I shared.

‘Enough,’ I say out loud, making Bud look up from his position at my feet. I throw down the exercise book I’ve had open on my lap but have barely looked at and get up, going into the hall to get my phone out of my bag. If Teddy won’t tell me what happened, then Elliot can. He’s my friend too.

I start to write the message:

LIZZIE: Hey Elliot, are you all set for tomorrow? I’m drowning in marking! By the way, just realised you never told me much about your date with Teddy. Did you …

But I stop and delete the message. It’s one thing asking Teddy, but it feels intrusive asking Elliot. I’ve never texted him to ask if he’s slept with his dates, never pried into his love life. In fact, I’ve tried my best not to know about it. I can’t ask him now or he’ll know something is up, and I don’t want that.

I return to my marking, but my mind won’t settle. I know I’ll have to do something otherwise I’ll have to deal with an annoyed class full of fourteen-year-olds with unmarked books.

I reach for my phone again, and this time I don’t type. I choose the option that will make me remember that this is all going well. Amazingly, uncontrollably well.

Jordan picks up on the second ring.

‘Hi, beautiful,’ he says, and I smile.

Chapter 12

Soft jazz music plays as candles flicker, and a caressing warmth reaches me from the fire. I could close my eyes and sleep, but then I’d miss the joy of being here, sipping delicious wine, feeling the hectic week release me from its grip. I love this place in the evening, when it glimmers and glows, and it’s hard to imagine anywhere else as lovely.

I only wish Elliot could feel its magic all around him. As it is, he’s sitting on the floor, a semi-circle of papers messily arranged around him, completely immune to the charm of his flat.

‘How you getting on down there, buddy?’ I ask from up on the sofa.

‘I don’t know. Tell me again what the hell I think I’m doing?’

‘You’re going for a job you’re going to be amazing at, and you’re going to nail this interview, so you’ve got time to take a break and come and have a glass of this wine with me.’

He only laughs at that and picks up another piece of paper to begin frantically reading. Ever since Mr Montgomery approached him to tell him there was an opening for an assistant headteacher post, Elliot has gone into prep overdrive, and he’s dragged me along for the ride. I’ve spent more time at his flat in this last fortnight than I have in the past year. From him calling me up on the Sunday afternoon, three days before his application form was due and begging me to cancel my plans with Mum to help him with it, it’s become a regular event for me to come round. I’ve grown used to him stopping by my classroom to ask if I’m coming back to his after work or him texting me at the weekend to see if I fancy goats’ cheese tart for lunch and could I possibly pick up a new pack of highlighter pens on the way over.

Thanks to him (and a tiny bit of my help reining in the amount of times he used the word ‘privilege’) his application form got him through to the interview process, and now he’s led himself to believe I’m the key to success to him getting the job too. Not that I do anything much but sit on his sofa and act as his soundboard. I don’t have a clue how to deal with budget deficits or how to control the impact of AI on future students, but I do regularly bring biscuits and tell him on repeat that he’s going to be great, which seems to be enough. It’s a role reversal that I’m still getting used to. For the first year we knew each other, it was Elliot who held my hand the whole way through, and I thought that would always be our dynamic, that I’d be the one who came to him, but I’ve got to admit I’m enjoying the change. I like knowing I can help him too, that he chooses me to come too when he needs help.

Feeling increasingly sleepy and a little guilty for having such a pleasant evening when my friend is stressing out feet away from me, I put down the wine and shuffle off the sofa to sit next to him on the floor.

‘Look how much work you’ve done, Elliot,’ I say picking up a report that has been underlined and highlighted within an inch of its life. ‘You know all this. Don’t you want a break? Something to eat? A stretch of your legs at least?’

‘I don’t know it all. In fact, the more I’m reading, the less that’s going in. But you’re right, I could do with moving. I’ll go make some coffee. Are you OK there with that wine?’

‘I’ll have coffee too actually,’ I tell him, and follow him to the kitchen, leaning against the small island while he puts on the kettle.

‘I’m having second thoughts about the start of my presentation. Don’t you think it’s a bit much to read out endorsement quotes from my pupils?’

‘No, not at all, because it was my idea, but why don’t you have a few minutes break from thinking about it? You’ve got the rest of the weekend to sort it. Let’s talk about something else, shall we? At least until the kettle’s boiled.’

‘OK.’ I can see him searching for something to say, but his brain must be too full of work stuff to come up with anything not related.

‘Have you been in touch much with Teddy?’ I ask, partly helping him out, partly because I can’t help but be curious. It’s not escaped my notice that Teddy and Elliot have had to slow down their relationship because of this opportunity and that I’ve ended up spending evenings with Elliot that Teddy must have wished she could have spent with him instead. I know Teddy well enough to know she’ll be nothing but supportive of Elliot, and happy I’m here to help, but I can’t help feel a twinge of guilt at being around him so much.

‘Yeah, we’ve been texting and had a few phone calls. She’s been really good putting our dates on hold until after the interview. I told her I didn’t expect her to do that, but she says she doesn’t mind. Do you think she means it?’

‘Definitely,’ I say, truthfully. ‘Teddy’s super supportive over work stuff. She’ll be nothing but pleased for you if you get this job. When you get the job.’