You choose, she said.
I think the girl should choose.
Well, I disagree with that.
He frowned and said: Okay, the one who pays should choose.
I actually disagree with that even more.
He lifted his bag onto his shoulder and put his hand to the handle of the nearest bedroom. I can see we’re going to disagree a lot on this holiday, he said. I’ll take this one here, alright?
Thank you, she said. Would you like to get something to eat before we go to bed? I’ll look online to find a restaurant if you want.
He said that sounded good. Inside his room, he closed the door behind him, found a light switch and put his bag on top of the chest of drawers. Behind his bed, a third-floor window faced out onto the street. He unzipped the bag and searched around inside, moving items back and forth: some clothing, a razor handle with spare disposable blades, a foil sheet of tablets, a half-full box of condoms. Finding his phone charger, he took it out and started to unwind the cable. In her room, Alice was also unpacking her suitcase, removing some toiletries from the clear plastic airport bag, hanging up a brown dress in the wardrobe. Then she sat on her bed, opened a map on her phone and moved her fingers with practised ease around the screen.
Forty minutes later, they were eating at a local restaurant. At the centre of the table was a lit candle, a wicker basket of bread, a squat bottle of olive oil and a taller fluted bottle of dark vinegar. Felix was eating a sliced steak, very rare, dressed with Parmesan and rocket leaves, the interior of the steak glistening pink like a wound. Alice was eating a dish of pasta with cheese and pepper. At her elbow was a half-empty carafe of red wine.
The restaurant was not crowded, but now and then conversation or laughter from the other tables swelled up and became audible. Alice was telling Felix about her best friend, a woman whose name she said was Eileen.
She’s very pretty, Alice said. Would you like to see a picture?
Yeah, go on.
Alice took out her phone and started scrolling through a social media app. We met when we were in college, she said. Eileen was like a celebrity then, everyone was in love with her. She was always winning prizes and having her photograph in the university paper and that kind of thing. This is her.
Alice showed him the screen of her phone, displaying a photograph of a slim white woman with dark hair, leaning against a balcony railing in what appeared to be a European city, with a tall fair-haired man beside her, looking at the camera. Felix took the phone out of Alice’s hand and turned the screen slightly, as if adjudicating.
Yeah, he said. Nice-looking alright.
I was like her sidekick, said Alice. Nobody really understood why she would want to be friends with me, because she was very popular, and everyone kind of hated me. But I think perversely she enjoyed having a best friend nobody liked.
Why didn’t anyone like you?
Alice gestured one of her hands vaguely. Oh, you know, she said. I was always complaining about something. Accusing everyone of having the wrong opinions.
I’d say that gets on people’s nerves alright, he said. Putting his finger over the face of the man in the photograph, he asked: And who’s that with her?
That’s our friend Simon, said Alice.
Not bad-looking either, is he?
She smiled. No, he’s beautiful, she said. The photograph doesn’t even do him justice.
He’s one of these people who’s so attractive I think it’s actually warped his sense of self.
Handing the phone back, Felix said: Must be nice having all these good-looking friends.
They’re nice for me to look at, you mean, said Alice. But one does feel like a bit of a dog in comparison.
Felix smiled. Ah, you’re not a dog, he said. You have your good points.
Like my charming personality.
After a pause, he asked: Would you call it charming?
She gave a genuine laugh then. No, she said. I don’t know how you put up with me saying such stupid things all the time.
Well, I’ve only had to put up with it a small while, he said. And I don’t know, you might stop doing it when we get to know each other better. Or I might stop putting up with it either.
Or I might grow on you.
Felix returned his attention to his food. You might, yeah, he said. Sure anything could happen. So this lad Simon, you fancy him, do you?
Oh no, she said. Not at all.
Glancing up at her with apparent interest, Felix asked: Not interested in the handsome ones, no?
I like him a lot, as a person, she said fairly. And I respect him. He works as an adviser to this tiny little left-wing parliamentary group, even though he could make buckets of money doing something. He’s religious, you know.