‘This is going to sound weird, sorry,’ the woman says.
I look up from the book I’m holding. I see she’s blushing a bit. I smile at her, encouragingly.
‘There’s a man over there who’s been staring at you for a while,’ she says. ‘Don’t look!’
My eyes had already skittered across the shop, but I manage to drag them back to her face.
‘I don’t know if you know him or … ’ she says. ‘I just thought I should maybe let you know, in case … ’
‘Thank you,’ I tell her.
She smiles nervously at me and glances in the man’s direction before heading out of the open front of the shop.
I calmly put the book down on the 3 for 2 promotional table, take a breath and look over in the direction she indicated. It’s him. I hoped it would be.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out and open the message.
Are you alone?
I look back at him and nod.
He looks really good. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him and he hasn’t shaved. He always looked better a little bit rougher. First thing in the morning was my favourite. I always said it wasn’t fair that when we’d had a big night out, I’d stagger out of bed looking like death warmed up whereas he looked – as my friend Chloe put it the first time she met him – sexy as fuck.
He hasn’t moved, so I cross the shop floor, steering myself around the shelves and the other customers.
‘Are you alone?’ I ask him.
He nods. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t going to … I just wanted to say … hello.’
‘Hello.’ I smile.
I want to touch him. I want to put my arms around his waist and feel his hands in my hair. But I can’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t.
‘Where are you going?’ he asks.
I feel a clutch of panic in my stomach. I’d almost forgotten I was here to catch a flight. First I got lost in choosing a book for the flight and now this. I check my phone – plenty of time.
‘Sorry,’ I say, looking up at him. ‘New York.’
He shakes his head, but he’s grinning. ‘Me too.’
‘On the 9.25?’
‘Yep.’
I can’t even speak. A mixture of fear and excitement bubbles in my stomach, but I try not to let it show on my face.
‘What are you going for?’ he asks.
‘Just a … break. You?’
‘Meetings.’
We stare at each other and I take a small step backwards.
‘Should we get a coffee or something?’ he says.
We shouldn’t. We absolutely shouldn’t.
‘Yes.’
It’s so hard just walking next to him without reaching for his hand or sliding my arm around his waist, my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. I try to stay an arm’s length away, but the airport is so busy and we’re having to dodge around people and I bump arms with him more than once. Each time it sends a shiver right to my crotch.
‘I’ll get them,’ he says as soon as we reach the cafe and I slump down on an outside seat, pressing my thighs together.
I can’t quite believe this is happening. I really shouldn’t be having coffee with him. I shouldn’t have spoken to him at all. I should have told him I wasn’t alone, that I couldn’t talk to him. But. I’ve missed him so much. I take my phone out and delete his text. Then I change my wallpaper to one of the generic pictures that comes with the phone.
‘I got you a latte, is that OK?’ Some of the coffee splashes on the table as he sets it down and I realise he’s as nervous as I am.
‘Thanks.’
I pick it up and sip it even though I know it’s too hot. I lick the foam off my lip and my face gets hot.
Nick looks down at his hands and shakes his head. ‘This is a mistake.’
‘Right?’ I say. ‘I can probably change my flight … ’
He looks up and laughs. ‘I meant … They’ve given me the wrong change.’
I look at him and I start to laugh. And then I can’t stop. He’s laughing too and I always loved his laugh.
‘I can’t change my flight,’ he says when he’s stopped laughing.
‘No, that’s OK. It’s OK. I could, but … I don’t need to, do I?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean … we can be grown-ups about this, can’t we? We can survive a six-hour flight without killing each other or … ’ My face heats up.
‘I don’t know,’ Nick says, shaking his head. ‘It’s an enclosed space. And it’s boring. And you know those little packets of nuts turn me on.’
‘Shut up,’ I say. I sip my latte again. It’s still too hot.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘OK, I haven’t missed you. I was glad to see the back of you.’
But that’s actually a little bit too close to the truth for me to find funny and I know Nick realises it too because he starts fiddling with his coffee, shaking the sugar sachets and stirring it for much longer than necessary.
‘That was a joke,’ he says, after a minute or so of uncomfortable silence.
‘I know,’ I say.
‘Not a funny one though, sorry.’
‘Like so many of your jokes,’ I say and offer him a smile.
‘And how’s your course going? Still enjoying it?’
I pause, wondering how much to tell him and then I nod. ‘It’s great. Lot of work, you know … ’
‘I remember.’
‘And your job?’
‘Really good.’
‘Good.’
We stare at each other.
‘So this is very civilised,’ he says. His eyes crinkle as he grins at me and I scoot slightly further away from him. He’s too bloody sexy. He was always too sexy.
‘So, I should probably just get it out of the way,’ he says, looking down at his coffee. ‘How’s Adam?’
‘Ohhh. I don’t know if we should talk about Adam.’
‘I was trying to be grown up about it.’ He grins.
I smile and look down at my latte. ‘Meh. I suppose we could try being grown up. It couldn’t hurt.’ I cross my legs, knocking the table and spilling some of Nick’s coffee. As he mops it up with napkins, I say, ‘He’s good. Working hard, you know.’
He drops the wet napkins onto the tray and smiles at me. ‘That’s all I’m getting?’
I sigh and lean back in my chair. ‘He’s doing his dissertation so he’s working all the time.’
‘Not giving you enough attention?’
I shake my head.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he says, holding his hands up. ‘That just slipped out.’
‘Well, the “being grown up” lasted – what? – thirty seconds?’
‘Still beats my personal record.’ He grins again and I can’t help grinning back at him. I never could.
‘I am sorry, honest,’ he says. ‘Tell me about Adam’s dissertation. What’s the topic?’
‘Something about music and gender … I don’t really know the details.’ I pick at a loose thread on my jeans. ‘We sort of split up.’
‘Seriously?’
I look up. He’s looking at me intently and it makes my stomach go liquid. I nod.
‘Wow. I don’t know what to say. What happened?’
‘It just … wasn’t working. We were both busy and not spending enough time together and it was just … not fun any more.’
‘Who ended it?’ he asks.
‘Why does it matter?’
He frowns. ‘It doesn’t, I suppose. I just can’t get my head around it. When did it happen?’
‘Not long ago,’ I say.
‘I did wonder why you were going to New York for Valentine’s weekend on your own.’
I huff out a breath. ‘Yeah. It was meant to be for both of us.’
‘Wasn’t planning to propose, was he?’
‘God no, of course not!’
‘I just thought maybe, you know, he’d want to put a ring on it.’
I shrug. He’s just looking at me, smiling, waiting for me to speak. The bastard.
‘This is stupid,’ I say. ‘You should’ve just walked past Waterstones and pretended you hadn’t seen me.’
‘Couldn’t do it,’ he said. ‘Anyway, we would’ve bumped into each other at the gate or somewhere. At least this way we get to have coffee.’
I try not to smile, but I can’t help it. ‘We’re probably seated together … ’
He snorts. ‘I’m in business class.’
I gasp. ‘You are not!’
‘I am,’ he says with a straight face. ‘I’m very successful and important.’
I laugh. ‘Oh, I’m sure.’ I shake my head. ‘I can’t believe you’re in business class!’
‘I could see if I can get you an upgrade … ’
I can’t tell if he’s serious. I stare at him. He does seem to be, but I don’t want to take him seriously and then have him go ‘As if!’ And now I’ve been staring at him – without speaking – for too long. He really does look so good. Healthier than he looked at uni – sometimes he worked so hard and drank so much that he got really grey and pasty-looking, but now he’s lightly tanned, even in February, and glowing with health.
‘Have you had a stroke?’ he says. ‘You haven’t moved a muscle in thirty seconds.’
I laugh at last. ‘God. This is such a bad idea.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m sitting here wondering whether you’re serious and I don’t know whether I want you to be or not and I’m thinking how good you look and it’s all wrong.’
‘Why is it? I mean, I do look good.’ He grins again.
‘You do.’
‘And you look beautiful. But then you always did.’
I shake my head again. This can’t happen.
‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Isn’t there a business class lounge?’
‘There is. I’d be in there now if I hadn’t seen you book shopping.’
‘You could have just walked past.’ I frown at him.
‘I did,’ he says. ‘And then I stopped and stood over there.’ He points at the bureau de change. ‘Trying to decide what to do. Then I walked past again and sat there.’ He points at a row of seats. ‘And thought about what a bad idea it would be to talk to you and how good you look and how much I’ve missed you and how many times I’ve thought about what I’d say if I bumped into you and I decided it was probably fate –’
‘– You don’t believe in fate.’
‘– Even though I don’t believe in fate. And then I thought “what’s the worst that could happen?” and then I realised that Adam was probably with you and that would be the worst that could happen, but by then I’d got myself quite worked up about talking to you again and I couldn’t see Adam, so I went in the shop – my plan was that you’d notice me and if Adam was with you or if you didn’t want to see me you’d just leave – but then I sort of got stuck watching you and that women thought I was a creepy weirdo stalker –’
‘Not unreasonably.’
‘No. Not at all. And then you saw me and here we are.’
I want to lean across the table and kiss him. Actually I want to drag him across the table and kiss him.
‘This is a mistake,’ I say.
‘But what if it isn’t?’ he says.
I can see a muscle jumping in his cheek. It does that when he’s nervous. I’ve made him nervous.
‘We were awful together.’
‘Yeah, we were. But I think you’re forgetting that we were also completely fucking fantastic together.’
My eyes have filled with tears. I look down at my jeans and gulp until I feel like I can get my voice under control. ‘You broke my heart.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry.’