SEVEN DAYS Read Free

she had no doubt that she'd done the right thing. Here she was buying a book on erotic art with the hope of taking her agonisingly platonic relationship with Peter to the next level and it wasn’t okay to then flirt with the first guy to show her a little attention.
    For a moment, she thought that the guy in the white T-shirt, walking away from her may have come over because he sensed her need for physical contact, but she decided that that was unlikely. She had been in desperate need of someone for weeks.
    The book seemed heavier than ever. The more that guy had criticised it, the heavier it had seemed. Now it was practically slipping through her fingers.
    As was he.
    It was a strange sensation that made her call out to him, even though it would draw attention to her again.
    “What's your name?” she asked.
    “Mark,” he said. “Nightingale.”
    “And why do you hate this book so much?”
    “Because I wrote it,” he said.
    There it was, in big letters, a couple of inches beneath the title.
    MARK NIGHTINGALE.
    She burst out laughing.
    “That’s a good line,” she said. “I’ll give you that.”
     “Can I help you?”
    It was the smiley girl behind the counter, but she wasn't smiling anymore. She appeared to have been trying to get her attention for some time.
    “Can I help you?” she snapped again.
    “No,” Judy said and wandered away from the desk. She wandered out of the queue and over to ‘Mark Nightingale’.
    I must be wandering out of my mind, she thought.
    “I can't believe I just did that,” Judy confessed. “I queued for over half an hour.”
    It was now 18:47, which meant that she'd have to walk extremely quickly to get to her date.
    “I guess I'll put this back on the shelf,” she said ponderously.
    The guy  took the book from her and tossed it in the bin. The dust-jacket tore and the bin crumpled under the book's weight.
    “That's done then,” Judy said, “but I can't leave here empty-handed.”
    “You won't,” he said. He took her hand and led her into the foyer.
    * * * *
    On the escalator, normally Judy would have wanted to walk, taking advantage of the ability to move twice as fast as would ordinarily be possible, but this evening she was content to stand beside her newest friend.
    “What’s your name?” she asked. “Seriously.”
    “Mark,” he said, all innocent. “Seriously.”
    “Okay then, Mark Seriously. Where are we going?”
    They moved to let people by and each time she felt his body brush against hers. Each time she held her breath. It was the closest she'd been to a man for a long time. In a way, she felt closer to him than she did to Peter.
    Mark respected her story about 'Peter', which made her like Mark even more.
    Peter existed, that was true, and he did used to be a fireman, sort of, but they were not an item. Once. But not anymore. They just weren't compatible. They never had been.
    With Mark, she already felt different, but the timing was wrong, and she wasn't used to doing things on the spur of the moment.
    “I'm still seeing Peter after this,” she warned him, warning herself in the process.
    “Of course,” he said, “But if it doesn't work out...”
    “It'll work out,” she said. “I just appreciate your help finding a book he really will like.”
    Jesus , she thought, stop being such a jerk. Tell him that at another time in another place, she might have taken him up on the offer. Tell him. Stop hiding. Just say it. What harm could it do?
    “The book I recommend is only stocked in the upper bookshop,” Mark said “It's a smaller store, so you'll be served quickly. Don't worry. You'll be on time for your hot date. More's the pity.”
    Beneath them, the Turbine Hall was in preparation for the next great exhibit. The previous spectacle had been dismantled and now she saw scaffolding and spotlights. Black drapes hid whatever was being constructed from view.
    “Exciting, isn’t it?” Mark commented. “The anticipation.”
    Judy saw only metal