Chapter 1

Lista Playlist: Is it New Years Yet – Sabrina Carpenter

“I’m going to the bar” I say flatly to the table of pumped-up men I happen to be sitting with. Well, I don’t happen to be sat with them. They are my best friends, most of the time, so it was very much so a choice to be here, sharing a table. I digress. Every once in a while, I need some breathing room, and since they forgot some of the drinks order, this is my cue for said breathing room. It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m in the cosiest little country pub (Reed chose wisely), doing a special pub quiz, and couldn’t be happier to be spending it this way. I know what you’re thinking. Boring. But this is us. We are a group of academics. Need I say more?

We decided this year to hire an Airbnb in the countryside and spend the last days of December hiking, playing board games and doing an epic pub quiz, despite missing a few of the group members, therefore slightly less brain power. Not for you? Fair enough. We aren’t the type for clubs or loud parties, where you can only rely on body language to be able to communicate. Plus trying to avoid having drink spilt on you by hammered partiers. So here we are, in the lake district, in a small pub, celebrating with the locals. It’s nice being away from home. There’s something about being somewhere new that refreshes and rejuvenates my soul. Far away from the pressures of everyday life, with like-minded friends who deeply understand the need to escape. This is the perfect way to end the year and begin a new one.

I call to order my drink at the bar at the same time as a man further down does. We look at each other and laugh briefly before he signals for the bar tender to serve me first. I didn’t realise Gentlemen still existed. Or in fact, just kind people. Chivalry isn’t in fact dead! After thanking him silently with a nod and smile, I order my drink and pay. He does so after me.

“It might take me a few minutes folks. I’m a little backed up with orders. Please bear with me” the middle-aged bar woman says. “Please take your time. There’s no rush” I reassure her. I’ve realised during life that everyone is just trying to get by, so having patience and showing kindness is the least I can do to make someone’s day that bit easier or brighter. Unless they’re being a shithead. Simple. The bar is swarming with cheerful older men and women talking loudly to one another and laughing. It’s overwhelming for my sensitive ears, but I can see how joyful they are, and it helps me through it. Plus, I have my handy loop ear plugs in, so that makes things easier. I think they’re locals based on their accents, so I focus on the rhythm of their speech to help my mind concentrate on one thing instead of the cluster of noises and visual distractions. You see, since the car accident during my childhood, I become easily overwhelmed and off balance due to my head injury. And my senses are… well, sensitive. If I get too overwhelmed or stressed, the vertigo is triggered, and when that happens, it’s kind of game over for my productivity or fun. And let’s face it. My quiz team need me. So prevention is vital for me. I’m lost in thought, subconsciously eavesdropping on the local’s chatter, when I get plucked out of my head and brought back to the real world. “Sorry but have we met?”, a deep male voice to my right says. I look up and see it’s the man from down the bar, talking to me. My heart begins racing. I’ve forgotten how to speak. “Erm, I’m not sure”. It’s not every day that a strikingly handsome man sparks up conversation with me, so I’m a little taken by surprise. But it hits me that upon closer inspection, I do feel like I’ve seen him before. Then again, it would be hard not to see him with his short black ruffled hair, dark eyes, and tall stature. His sharp jaw line, stubble and defined cheek bones make him impossibly handsome, but not too clean cut and model like. Still a hint of rugged, geekiness (Is that a word? Yes. It is. I googled it)

“Actually, I do feel like I’ve seen you somewhere. I’m not from around here though” I say, for some reason, disappointed.

“Oh, neither am I. I’m Just here for New Year’s Eve with some mates” he says. His voice is smooth, deep and elegant. I’m intrigued. I’m also pleased to know he’s also not local. Maybe we have bumped into each other before. “Ha snap!” I say as I point over to the group of hyped-up men, who appear to be very passionately discussing something I can’t make out from here. I do love them.Before either of us could say anything, my very considerate quiz team, which we collectively decided to call ‘ Five mountains ’ (as always) demand me to return to the table. Five mountains is our friends group name. Long story. I came along post name discovery, so, not my doing. “Lista! Come back over. The quiz is about to start back up”. I signal to them that I’m still waiting for my drink, which brings a collective sigh to my entire table. They take pub quizzes very seriously. Being academics takes its toll on us, I think. A loud voice comes through the speakers, and I jump a little. “This next round is a little trickier folks so get your thinking caps on” the quiz master announces. I get multiple sets of glares from the table of impatient men I call my friends. I mime that I’ll be there as soon as possible, with a hint of aggression to my face and body language. If you’d actually remembered my drink I wouldn’t be up here now, would I?

“Question one. Who was the first woman to earn a degree in MIT’s electrical engineering department in 1918, who also invented the graphical calculator?”. Before I even have time to process what is happening, myself and the man I’ve had minimal conversation with both shout out the answer simultaneously “Edith Clarke”. “Correct”. Yeah, no shit. We both look at each other with raised eyebrows, until the next question comes along. “Question two, what “D” word refers to the weight per unit volume of any given substance? Back to the futures film character George McFly tells Lorraine that she is his…”. Another easy one.

“Density” We both shout out again. Looks like I’ve met my match. And he is glorious. He’s either a fellow academic or likes Back to the future. Either way, he’s making my insides twirl. “Correct” is shouted out loudly and pulls me from my admiration of bar guy . My teammates look at me with equal disgust and appreciation as I give them no time to answer the questions themselves. I’m starting to think that bar guy and I should probably create our own little alliance. Great minds think alike.

“I’m actually going to give the lads a chance to answer this time. You know, help with their egos and all” I say to my new quiz companion. He agrees.

“I’ll try and hold back to see how both our teams get on without us then” he says, winking at me. Game on.

“Question four, is it true or false that Iron is attracted by magnets?” This time, instead of calling out the answer, bar guy and I quietly whisper the answer. “True” Both correct again. Luckily my team called out the right answer too. Another point for us. Yes! ( A silent victory ). Oh shit, maybe I also take pub quizzes too seriously. Well in my defence, if they involve anything relating to science or engineering, that’s when I’m as hooked as a child is to some bizarre trippy kids show on TV these days. To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded losing to bar guy though. He seems nice. Disappointingly, the flustered bar lady has now served our drinks, so my excuses to stay stood here with this like-minded stranger dwindle. One more question and I’ll retreat to my team. “Question five, how many millilitres are there in a fluid pint?”. After a pause from the room, we both give in. “568ml” we both call out. “Correct”. With that, we raise our glasses to one another. “I should be heading back now” he says looking down. It annoys me that I don’t want this to end, but I give in and agree with him.

“Me too” I say.

“It was good to meet you” he says, turning to walk off.

“And you” I slowly walk back to my table.

We don’t win the quiz. Neither does bar guys team. It seems the locals managed to win based on entertainment trivia questions, which there were more of, whereas our forte was the STEM topic, or literature due to our very own expert, Reed. Hey ho. The prize wasn’t exactly mind blowing anyway. It consisted of some bottles of alcohol, local cheese, a free drink for each team member this evening, some vouchers, and ￡50 cash. Which let’s face it wouldn’t have been so useful between us all.

“Whose Mr know it all?” Drew asks me.

“Huh?” is all I can muster up.

“The guy stood at the bar with you earlier”.

“Oh. Not a clue. Just a fellow nerd I suppose”.

“Well, he’s been looking at you for most of the night. You either have an extremely nice neck, or his eyes are made of iron and you’re a magnet”. Nice little throwback to the quiz question Drew.

“I vote on the magnet” – Thanks Si. Not. He’s such a Slytherin; Ambitiously leading the debate with his opinions. Sure to be followed by his minions. Not that Slytherins are bad. He’s pretty cool most of the time . Just a tad infuriating.

“Me too” – Always a sheep, never a wolf, Pip. Ugh.

“yep” – Drew started this and still has to have a dig. Douchebag.

“Agreed” – To round it off, thank you Reed. All four of them agree. I thought you were better than that Reed.

“Are you saying I don’t have a sexy neck?” I say, disgusted in the lack of support from these noobs I call friends.

“No comment” Drew says.

The others all look away.

I decide not to continue with the conversation. I’m the youngest, yet most mature. Clearly. I think as I huff and cross my arms like a child who can’t get their own way.

Since I’m sat with my back to Mr bar guys table, I have no excuse to look over, which has quite frankly saved me. The urge to peak at him has been present. I won’t lie. Perhaps being deep in work over the last few years has numbed my mind and body to the idea of having some romantic company in my life. I mean, I have enough company with the four I’m sitting at this table with, not to mention Oli; the sixth friend in our group, back at home, and Flic; the seventh friend and only other female. So, there hasn’t been space in this overworking brain to consider dating or enjoying another person’s company… until him. I have had a few non-serious relationships. When I say a few, I quite literally mean two. And no. I’m not classing the boyfriend I had pre-amputation from year four, who I kissed twice and held hands with every day until he dumped me for a piece of chewing gum. That’s how much I’m worth apparently. I’m never usually the type to just focus on looks, but it’s safe to say now that I’ve shared a few quiz questions and answers, found some common ground and spoke to him without making an idiot of myself ( I hope ), I’m allowed to appreciate his appearance; A delicious appearance at that. His brown jumper looks so cosy, I want to snuggle into it. He’s well-groomed but still a little…rustic. I mean, he could be an absolute degrading, selfish, player, asshat for all I know, but I’m allowed to dream aren’t I? Those intense yet soothing eyes… Deep Forest green with a dark brown outer ring. Specks of sage green in his left eye. Don’t even ask how I’ve grasped this from the short amount of time spent with him. I’m perceptive, ok? He’s larger than me. Broader and taller. Not that it takes much. I’m just a speck of a human really. He looks like he could pick me up in one swoop, which sounds divine. OK enough now Lista. I order myself to cease thoughts regarding this delicious man and return to reality to play the game of cards that Pip just drew.