The One Who's Not the One: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

by Keris Stainton

  ‘OK,’ Kelly said. And then, gently, ‘I think because you got scared.’

  She slumped off the stool again and opened the metal armadillo bread bin before cutting herself a thick slice and slathering it with butter.

  ‘You’ve got more butter than bread there,’ Cat said.

  ‘I would actually eat the butter on its own if it was socially acceptable.’

  ‘Knock yourself out,’ Cat said. ‘I would pay to see that.’

  Kelly pulled a face. ‘Stop avoiding the conversation.’

  ‘Me? I’m just sitting here.’

  ‘I think you got scared and it was easier to stop doing it than to, you know, be scared.’

  Cat stared at her as she took an enormous bite of the bread and then dipped the crust into the Day-Glo yellow of the macaroni cheese.

  ‘I wasn’t scared. I was good at it.’

  ‘That,’ Kelly said, her mouth full of bread, ‘is what scared you.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense.’ She cut herself a slice of bread and covered it in only slightly less butter than Kelly’s. ‘I was only OK. And I didn’t want to—’

  ‘You were good,’ Kelly said. ‘Better than Sam.’

  ‘I was not.’

  ‘You were. That show you did in Ealing? You killed it. And Sam was good, but not as good as you. And he knew it too. He told me.’

  ‘He told you I was better than him?’

  Kelly nodded.

  Cat couldn’t believe it.

  ‘What did he say exactly?’

  ‘God, I don’t know. It was five years ago! But I remember cos when I was watching him I was wondering how he’d feel about you being better. You know, it could go either way, right? Some men would lose their shit. And others – like Sean – would love it. He’d support me if I walked into his office today and swiped his job from under him. I could be his boss and he’d just be all “proud of you, babe”.’

  Cat smiled. She was right. ‘You’d have to find out exactly what he does first.’

  Kelly laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy. And I’m not going to do it, obviously. But, like, Dark Dave would’ve—’

  ‘Ugh,’ Cat said. She’d hated Dark Dave.

  ‘I know. I know we said we’d never speak of him again, but he’s the perfect example for this!’

  ‘God. Go on then.’

  ‘Dark Dave would’ve hated it. He’d have belittled me. Probably in front of everyone else. He’d have told me that everyone was laughing out of embarrassment. I mean, if it was something he did too – like stand-up – I wouldn’t even have got that far; he’d have destroyed my confidence long before I saw a stage. He’d have been threatened. Sam wasn’t like that. I don’t think he was quite as laid-back as Sean either; I felt like he was a bit jealous? Maybe? But he told me you were great and that he was proud of you and I hugged him.’

  Cat remembered the hug. She’d seen it as she was coming down the few steps from the stage. She remembered because she’d thought Sam was leaving, that he’d watched her set and he was going home. Because he was pissed off. She’d spent the rest of the evening – after they’d both performed – asking him if he was OK. She remembered that too because when they were in bed at home – Sam’s flat – later, after they’d had sex (she was sure they’d had sex, they generally did when they stayed at Sam’s), she’d been almost asleep with her face pressed into the curve of his neck, one arm across his chest, her thigh hooked over his, when she’d said, ‘You’re not going to leave me, are you?’

  And Sam had pretended to be asleep.

  Ten

  Cat was dozing, propped up against her pillows, mindlessly playing the dots game, when her phone rang and made her jump. Harvey. It was Harvey. Why was he calling instead of texting? Who the hell actually called people on their phones any more? She should just let it go to voicemail and then never listen to it (who listened to voicemails any more?). Instead she answered and said, ‘Who even calls people any more?’

  Harvey’s low laugh rumbled through her ear and headed south.

  ‘Sorry, is it too late?’

  ‘About ten years too late,’ Cat said, clicking her bedside lamp back on. ‘Everyone just texts now. Did you not get the memo?’

  ‘Must’ve missed it,’ he said. ‘But, like, you’re not in bed or anything, are you?’

  ‘No,’ Cat lied. ‘I’ve just been…’ she glanced around the room, trying to come up with an idea for something interesting she could reasonably have been doing ‘… watching Netflix,’ she said instead.

  ‘Me too,’ he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. The voice that was even deeper and sexier on a mobile; it was awful. ‘I’m on a break. And I had an idea.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I don’t know if you’d be interested, but when you come to the panto, you could come early and I can give you a tour of the theatre. It’s not huge, but it’s pretty cool and I thought Arnold might like it?’

  ‘He’d love that,’ Cat said. ‘He’s got a massive crush on you. Hasn’t shut up about you since that day in John Lewis.’

  Harvey laughed. ‘He’s a really cute kid.’

  ‘He is. He’s great.’ She reached for her glass of water on the bedside table. ‘I— shit!’ She knocked it off, water pouring down the front and soaking the pile of magazines on the floor next to the bed.

  ‘You OK?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Cat leaned over and peered at the mess. ‘Sorry. Just knocked a glass of water over.’

  ‘Do you need to go and sort it out?’

  ‘Nah. Thanks. This flat’s a tip anyway. I can call it cleaning.’

  ‘Where are you living now?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘Queen’s Park. Well, Kilburn. Border of. No one can quite decide. What about you? You’ve got a new place, right?’

  Shit.

  There was a short silence on the other end of the line and then Harvey said, ‘Did I mention that when I saw you?’

  ‘Um,’ Cat said. ‘OK. Don’t judge me. I saw it on Facebook.’

  He laughed. ‘Are you stalking me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cat said. ‘Look out of the window. I’m crouched between the bins. Listen, everyone looks people up on Facebook and if they say they don’t they’re lying.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I’m not. I really don’t. I barely use it.’

  ‘You didn’t look me up? After seeing me at Sam’s show?’ She actually felt a little disappointed.

  ‘I didn’t. But only cos I don’t really use it. If I was a professional online stalker like apparently everyone else, I totally would’ve done.’

  ‘Right,’ Cat said. ‘Helpful.’

  ‘So what do you think?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘About Facebook?’

  ‘About the tour. And the panto.’

  ‘Sounds great. When’s good for you?’

  * * *

  ‘How’s the boyfriend?’ Nick asked, coming up behind Cat at work the following morning.

  She really needed to turn her desk round. Although then she’d just be surprised from the other side.

  ‘Oh, he’s not,’ Cat said. ‘I misunderstood the question. Last time.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Nick said. ‘You misunderstood “Is that your boyfriend”?’

  ‘Let it go,’ Cat said.

  Nick grinned. ‘Is Colin in?’

  ‘He’s not actually. He should be back fairly soon. If you wanted to wait in his office?’

  Nick sat on the chair on the opposite side of Cat’s desk. ‘I’ll sit here, I think. If that’s OK with you?’

  He was already swivelling the chair from side to side, one foot up on the opposite knee. Cat shook her head. ‘That’s fine, yeah. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No, I’m good, thanks.’ He held up a Starbucks cup. ‘Busy?’

  ‘Yes, actually,’ she said, double-checking that her screen wasn’t still showing Facebook. She’d been sitting and staring i
nto space for so long that she’d totally missed Nick coming in. ‘Thinking time is important to the creative process.’

  Nick did the grinning with his tongue in his cheek thing that went straight to Cat’s groin. She’d always thought ‘tongue-in-cheek’ was just an expression until she met Nick. She remembered Kelly telling her to sleep with him. She’d remembered it a few times in the week or so since their conversation. But it wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘So what have you come up with?’ Nick asked. ‘Creative accounting-wise.’

  ‘Hmm?’ She glanced around her desk for a glass of water or just anything to distract herself with, occupy her hands, but there was nothing. She tapped at her keyboard briefly.

  ‘Your creative daydreaming session,’ Nick said. ‘Did you come up with anything?’

  She pictured Nick in the conference room, undoing his shirt and crawling across the table. Crawling? What the fuck?

  ‘Just something I’m considering for the invoicing,’ she said instead, and mentally kicked herself. Be more boring, Cat.

  Nick grinned at her. ‘I look forward to hearing about it.’

  ‘Well,’ Cat said. ‘You’ll be gone. So.’

  Nick nodded, still smiling at her. ‘I learned something about you the other day.’ He reached across her desk and picked something up between his thumb and forefinger.

  Cat couldn’t see what it was. She hoped it wasn’t something gross like a bit of fingernail she’d chewed and flicked.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You used to do stand-up?’

  ‘Oh my god! How did you find out about that?!’

  ‘Edinburgh Festival website. My sister lives up there and she said I should come up for it next year – she’s not happy about me moving to New York, so she’s trying to get me to commit to future plans – so I was just idly googling and… there you were.’

  ‘God,’ Cat said, wondering if any of that was true or if he’d just been googling her. The thought made her heart race. ‘That feels like a long time ago.’

  Just the thought of it was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It had been the best thing she’d ever done. The best audience. One of those nights – well, it wasn’t a night, it was the middle of the afternoon – that she’d just nailed it. She thought about it sometimes when she couldn’t get to sleep, ran over her entire set in her head. Some bits still made her laugh. She could smell the room – dust and paper and beer – and see some of the faces in the audience. It had been her happy place.

  ‘I bet you were good,’ Nick said.

  Cat laughed. ‘Based on what?’

  Nick did that smile again and leaned forward, his elbows on her desk. ‘Just a feeling. Were you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Good?’

  Cat closed her eyes for a second, remembered her conversation with Kelly (she’d been better than Sam), opened them, and said, ‘Actually yeah, I was.’

  ‘So why’d you stop?’

  Cat shrugged. ‘Just, you know, life.’

  Nick nodded. ‘Seems like a shame. If you loved it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Cat said.

  The main doors opened and Colin burst in, shaking rain off his coat and muttering to no one in particular about the weather, before saying, ‘Nick? You ready?’, as if Nick hadn’t been the one waiting for him.

  ‘Right,’ Nick said to Cat, pushing himself to standing, as Colin disappeared inside his office. ‘I’ll be off then.’ He held his hand out, his palm flat. There was a penny there, dull and brown. ‘This was on your desk. Sorry, I like to fiddle when I chat.’

  Cat couldn’t resist raising one eyebrow, but she took the penny, her fingers brushing Nick’s. ‘Thanks.’

  Nick glanced over his shoulder at Colin’s office. ‘We should get a coffee one day, actually. Somewhere that’s not here.’

  Cat’s stomach fluttered and she took a breath, squeezing the penny in her fist. It had been on her desk because she’d found it on the way to work one day, weeks ago. See a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck. She thought about how Nick had clearly been googling her. She thought about Sam and Harvey and Kelly and how long it had been since she’d even been kissed.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’ve got these theatre tickets. It’s a new play in a really small venue, but it’s meant to be good. Maybe we—’

  Nick’s brow was furrowed and Cat already felt like she may have made a terrible mistake. He stepped a little closer and dipped his head.

  ‘I, ah, when I said about coffee, I meant to talk about work. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry if I gave the impression—’

  ‘Oh my god,’ Cat said, her face burning. ‘No. You didn’t. It was me, I—’

  ‘I’m gay,’ Nick said, his voice low. ‘I’m sorry; I thought you knew that. I mean, if I wasn’t then—’

  Cat shook her head and then couldn’t seem to stop shaking it. She must’ve looked like a Golden Retriever with water on the ear.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Sorry. I hope that wasn’t… I mean…’

  ‘No,’ Nick said. ‘You’re fine. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or—’

  ‘God,’ Cat said. ‘No. I need to…’ She glanced around wildly. There was nothing she needed to do. ‘Loo. I need the loo. I’ll see you… another… yeah.’

  * * *

  ‘Wow,’ Kelly said when Cat phoned her from the toilet stall. After she’d banged her head against the door approximately forty-six times.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I mean… wow.’

  ‘I know!’ Cat said. ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You didn’t know he was gay?’

  ‘Obviously!’

  ‘The work thing’s interesting though.’

  Cat usually wouldn’t slump in a work loo, but she was slumped now, her head against the side of the stall. She’d have to disinfect her entire body when she got home.

  ‘Oh, it won’t be. He might want me to move to the Soho Square office, since he’s not going to be there.’ She banged her head on the side. It hurt much more than her forehead; she probably wouldn’t do that again. ‘Why am I such an idiot?’

  ‘You’re not an idiot,’ Kelly said.

  Cat snorted.

  ‘I mean, obviously you are. But I’m still proud of you! You took a chance! You seized the day. It’s not your fault the day turned out to be gay.’

  ‘You’re not funny.’

  ‘I’m a bit funny.’

  Cat stood up and the loo flushed automatically behind her, even though she hadn’t used it. She let herself out and stared at herself in the long mirror that ran along the wall. She had a red mark on her forehead.

  ‘Want to talk more about Nick?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘God. No. I want to go and get drunk. But instead I guess I’ll make a start on some VAT Returns.’

  ‘Yeah. Treat yourself.’

  Cat pulled a face in the mirror.

  ‘The thing is,’ Kelly said, ‘It’s not the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done and you’ll probably do something even more embarrassing in the future.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Cat said. ‘And? What?’

  ‘Oh, that’s it. I’m just saying.’ She cackled.

  ‘I hate you,’ Cat said.

  * * *

  Cat got home to find Georgie and her boyfriend had a bunch of friends round and they were all loudly playing Cards Against Humanity in the living room. On the way home, she’d been thinking about making herself spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread and eating it in front of the TV, but she couldn’t face it any more.

  She made a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of tea and took them to her room. When she’d first moved in, Georgie – who’d had a different boyfriend – had tried to include her, but after a few awkward evenings they realised they had nothing in common and would never actually be friends. Cat knew that Georgie thought she was boring, but after a long day at work, she wanted to be able to relax at home – get into her pyjamas and curl up in front of the
TV with a cup of tea and a bag of Hula Hoops; she didn’t want to be expected to entertain.

  Sitting on her bed, she was alternating scrolling through Instagram on her phone and trying to pick something to watch on Netflix on her laptop, when she got a text from her dad.

  All it said was I’m heading over your way soon. You free to meet up? Dad but it made Cat’s stomach sink. She didn’t want to see him. Did she? She wasn’t actually sure.

  No, that wasn’t strictly true. She was sure she didn’t want to see him. But knowing that to be the case made her feel like shit.

  Eleven

  Harvey met them at the stage door, which was already pretty exciting for both Cat and Arnold. It had been sleeting all morning and once inside the theatre, Cat unwound Arnold’s scarf and then her own, pulling their hats off their heads and watching as Arnold’s hair stuck straight up with static before settling down again. Cat smoothed it with her hand then leaned down to sniff it.

  ‘Pipe smoke,’ she said. ‘And good cheese. Did you spend last night in a gentleman’s club by any chance?’

  Arnold laughed. ‘No! I just went to bed.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Cat said. ‘I don’t suppose you can prove it?’

  Arnold giggled and Cat looked up to find Harvey watching them both with that odd, slightly distant expression on his face.

  ‘It’s a bit,’ Cat said. ‘We’ve always done it.’

  ‘Cute,’ Harvey said.

  They followed him up the stairs, past the dressing rooms from where different music was pouring. He knocked on one door and introduced them both, but mostly Arnold, to the CBeebies presenter who played Buttons. Arnold’s mouth hung open and he curled into Cat’s side, looking up from under his fringe, shyly.

  The presenter had signed a programme for Arnold and then they’d left, Harvey pulling the door closed behind him.

  ‘How long have you worked here?’ Cat asked him as they walked down another corridor strewn with cables, the walls covered with old show posters, the curling edges stuck down with tape.

  ‘Here?’ Harvey said, glancing back over his shoulder.