Bleeding Heart. AM Hartnett

somewhere within walking distance of some great bars – not the booze-soaked clubs they usually frequented, but nice places. Live music and trivia. Excellent food to snack on between pints.

      Winsloe Court was located just off the student ghetto, but in the nicer part of the neighbourhood where families lived in townhouses and cheerful Victorians, families who could overlook a bit of noise every so often but didn’t take kindly to rowdy frat parties. April was never one for getting drunk and making mayhem, and she’d picked this neighbourhood specifically because it had that certain sophisticated vibe.

      After all, she was no longer April Kaye who still had to mow the lawn to earn her keep. She was April Kaye, civil servant and independent woman, for whom a crappy apartment in a crappy neighbourhood would not do.

      ‘You should invite him out with us,’ Vanessa said with a smirk.

      April couldn’t help but laugh. ‘And why would I do that?’

      ‘Why wouldn’t you? You were drooling when you told me about him.’

      ‘I was not, and, even if I was, how could you tell? That was over the phone.’

      ‘Maybe that was some other bodily fluid I heard dribbling in the background.’

      Abigail took the remote and cut the music. ‘All right, can we go? With or without the gorgeous landlord, I don’t care.’

      ‘With the gorgeous landlord,’ Vanessa insisted, and leaped from the sofa. April rolled her eyes and raised the bottle, but before she could take a sip she shrieked and darted in front of her friend, barring the window.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Yes!’

      ‘It’s not funny!’

      She gave Vanessa a gentle shove, then quickly closed the window. She’d been confident that the terrible music kept their voices from carrying too much, but now with the silence she was sure he’d hear everything.

      ‘He’ll think we’re making fun of him,’ she explained. ‘He probably already feels bad enough sitting down there by himself.’

      ‘Which is why we should invite him out,’ Vanessa riposted.

      April growled through her teeth and looked helplessly at Abigail. ‘Help?’

      ‘It is a little insensitive,’ Abigail conceded, ‘and juvenile. You might as well slip a note in his mailbox telling him that April likes him.’

      ‘I don’t –’ she started, but shut her mouth when they both gave her oh, please looks. ‘Yes, I like him. From afar. I don’t want to get mixed up with a guy in mourning for his dearly departed wife.’

      ‘And tonight is about getting really close,’ Abigail went on. She set her bottle on the table and stood up. ‘Come on. Let’s go check out that bar around the corner there.’

      They hadn’t even made it down to the second floor before April was already listing excuses to get back home in less than two hours. It didn’t bother her that she was going to turn into a homebody. When she lived with her mom, she would go out mainly to get out, rather than have to creep around downstairs to prevent her mother popping up and asking, ‘Are you still up?’ Clubbing had never been her thing, though she had gone and put up with the drunken jostling and shrieking.

      If the suggestion had been to head downtown, where the music pumped out of every doorway, she would have given a flat-out ‘No’, but she had to admit that she was interested in giving the pub a try.

      So far so good, she thought as they turned the corner and Freddie Mercury’s voice spilled out onto the street. There was patio seating and she grabbed a table, even though Vanessa had wanted to squeeze into the thick of things.

      The beer was cheap but not watery, and the place was still serving food so they ordered something to munch on. April quickly relaxed and engaged in some easy flirting with a guy at the next table whose name was Todd and who worked at the coffee shop a few doors down.

      Just as she was typing into the phone the number he recited, she heard a familiar voice nearby.

      ‘Picking up my usual,’ Seth told the waitress who greeted him.

      ‘Excuse me a second,’ April told her new admirer, and quickly returned to the pub table where her friends were.

      ‘Hey, next to the cash machine by the door: that’s my landlord.’

      Two sets of eyes looked past her, and Vanessa whistled.

      ‘Oh, my God, let’s go back to your apartment and break everything. I mean, look at that body.’

      ‘Honey, I don’t want to be weird,’ Abigail chimed in dreamily, ‘but if you get on that and he suggests a threesome, I volunteer.’

      ‘Stop that,’ April hissed, but giggled as she took a peek over her shoulder.

      At first glance, one might think that he was checking the place out from the door, taking stock and picking out his playmate for the night, but after a moment April could see that his eyes were following the waitress in one direction, then, anxiously, turning to the kitchen in the other. His post by the door was so he could get out as quickly as possible, she guessed.

      ‘Do you need a roommate?’ Abigail asked, but, before April could reply, Seth’s gaze locked with hers.

      She turned around quickly. ‘Fuck. He saw us.’

      Vanessa cackled. ‘So?’

      ‘So, we’re staring. That’s rude.’

      ‘You may be staring, but I’m giving him fuck-me eyes.’

      April took another look. Now it appeared as though he was looking anywhere but at their table, and he seemed embarrassed.

      ‘Go invite him over,’ Abigail said, and gave her a kick.

      ‘I’m not going to invite him over,’ April said breathlessly, ‘but I am going over to say hi so he doesn’t think we’re being rude – and no, you can’t come.’

      ‘Bitch,’ Vanessa snapped, and Abigail nodded in agreement.

      April left them and made her way around the tables to where Seth stood.

      ‘Hey there, remember me?’

      There was no way he could have looked more uncomfortable. ‘Yeah, hey, April.’

      ‘Yup, upstairs. I hope I’m not being too loud.’

      ‘In comparison to what?’ he asked, raising his voice as the music changed to something with a lot of screeching guitar.

      ‘Are you meeting someone here?’ she asked, even though she knew the answer to that question. She was kind of hoping to get him to stick around, even if it did mean subjecting him to her friends until they made themselves scarce.

      ‘No, I’m just picking up. I’m not really a bar kind of guy.’ He looked apologetic after he said that. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with having a few drinks out.’

      ‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my friends, but it’s not bad here. Not too rowdy and not many people drinking to get drunk.’

      ‘Not yet, anyway. Give it an hour.’

      ‘Then I can’t talk you into staying for a beer, on me?’ Her nerves frayed into slivers as soon as she asked, and she quickly added, ‘For helping me move in, I mean.’

      To her relief, he really seemed to weigh the offer in front of him, and a smile appeared. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

      ‘No, it’s OK. I mean, good neighbours –’

      The waitress appeared with a paper bag, and April could have snatched it from her hands and thrown it across the bar. If he had been going to say yes, the arrival of his food had put an end to that. He handed the