Chapter 2
Rowan
The halls of the school were quiet now that the last of the students had filtered out with the final bell. I sat at my desk as the afternoon sunlight spilt through the windows over the stack of history exams I was marking. Not exactly thrilling work, but there was comfort in the routine.
I leaned back in my chair, stretched, and let my gaze drift to the window.
The view never changed here. The school's manicured lawns, the trees lining the grounds, and just beyond that, the rooftops of Tunbridge Wells.
Life moved at its own pace here. Predictable.
Familiar. And for the most part, I liked it that way.
The buzz of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen to find a text from Eli: It's over. Again.
I sighed and set the phone down without replying.
This wasn't the first time I'd gotten that kind of message from him.
Probably wouldn't be the last, either. The pattern was always the same.
He'd fall into something that burned bright for a while, and then it fizzled out.
Even through a text, I could tell it left him restless, frustrated, and chasing something else to fill the void.
I slid on my glasses and glanced at the stack of papers still waiting for feedback, but my mind had already left the room. Eli and I hadn't seen each other in person in over a year. Even from a distance, though, he was never far from my thoughts.
When that happened, it was easier to focus on the mundane. School routines, essays, my students, structure. Because when I let my thoughts linger too long on Eli, an old ache crept in. The kind that came from years of wanting something I couldn't have.
I glanced back at my phone, that familiar tug of concern pulling at me. It always hit when he messaged like this. I wanted to be there for him. I always had. But whatever he was chasing in those relationships, it wasn't anything he'd ever look for in me.
I typed out a quick reply: Sorry to hear that. You doing okay?
The message lingered on the screen as I hesitated. Was it even my place to ask that? To check in so casually when he kept chasing things that never lasted?
I shook my head and hit send. Too late to overthink it now.
I packed up my things and slipped into the hallway. The routine of locking up helped to ease the restlessness in my mind. The rest of the exams could wait. I wasn't much for going out, but today, I needed a break from the silence of the classroom.
The café down the street had become my usual escape – a place where I could retreat to a corner table and work without feeling entirely alone.
As I stepped inside, the low buzz of conversation wrapped around me.
I made my way to my usual seat by the window as the smell of fresh coffee began to settle my nerves.
I pulled out my notebook and flipped through pages of half-finished lesson plans. The Year 9 kids would be covering World War II next week, and I still had to finalise the last unit for the year.
I wasn't alone for long, though.
"Mind if I join you?"
I looked up to see Marcus already halfway to sitting across from me, coffee in hand, his usual easy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You never wait for the answer," I said, but the edge of a smile gave me away.
He shrugged. "You've never told me no." His gaze drifted toward my notebook. "Still conquering the lesson plans?"
"Trying to." I flipped the page like it might magically produce a finished outline. "Year 9 starts the war next week."
Marcus winced. "Yikes. Hope you've got snacks lined up. Nothing says engagement like war crimes and rationing."
I huffed a quiet laugh. "Maybe I'll bribe them with some Jammie Dodgers."
He leaned back with his coffee. "I should try that at the office.
Old bird came in today panicking about her retirement account.
She wanted to pull everything out and put it into property because of a podcast her son made her listen to.
I told her unless she's planning to flip a three-bed semi by Friday, maybe don't."
I raised a brow. "People really come to you with that stuff?"
"Daily. You've got kids and exam stress. I've got adults and conspiracy theories."
The conversation drifted from there, weaving through books, local politics, Marcus's horror at the price of oat milk, and eventually, my disastrous attempt last weekend to assemble a flat-pack cupboard. He laughed when I described the leaning tower of chipboard that now sat in my kitchen.
He nudged the corner of my notebook with his finger. "Next time, just let me help you. You're good at brainy things, but your DIY skills are clearly a cry for help."
"I'm not that bad." Even as I protested, though, I fought back a smile as an image of the lopsided piece of furniture flashed through my mind.
He reached over to fix the collar of my shirt. "You are. But it's charming." His thumb brushed my jaw before his hand dropped away. It was a small thing, but it stuck with me.
At some point, I realised I hadn't touched my coffee.
It had gone cold, forgotten in the middle of the conversation.
Outside, the light slanted to cast long shadows across the café floor.
I hadn't noticed how much time had passed until the background noise softened and the after-work crowd started to thin out.
And somewhere in that time, the knot that had taken root in my chest finally started to loosen. Enough that I wasn't still caught up in Eli's message or the heaviness that came with it.
Marcus glanced at his watch with a small grin. "Didn't even notice the time. Guess that was more interesting than those Year 9 plans."
I rolled my eyes but didn't disagree.
He stood when I did and walked me to the door. We stepped outside into the kind of early summer warmth that lingered even as the sun dipped low. "You good to walk home?"
"I'll be fine. It's ten minutes."
Marcus reached for my hand before I could shove it in my pocket and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned in like he always did, but this time, his hand found my jaw first. He kissed me slower than usual, then stepped back and walked off without another word.
I waited until he turned the corner before I headed the other way. The air was still warm, the streets quieter now. But somewhere between the café and my flat, my thoughts drifted straight back to Eli.
He never answered my last text, but that wasn't unusual.
He had his own world in London, and it rarely intersected with mine.
Whenever I visited him, it felt like I'd stepped into a completely different reality.
Bright lights, constant movement, all the people who orbited around him like planets caught in his gravitational pull.
I usually went to him. Eli only came home when he needed to escape. Or if something in his life was falling apart. It had been that way for years.
I tried to shake off those thoughts as I unlocked the door to my flat. Eli was my best friend. He always had been. But lately, that friendship was becoming a weight I couldn't shake. I'd been in love with him for longer than I cared to admit. And deep down, I knew he'd never see me that way.
I dropped my bag on the sofa and kicked off my shoes, the quiet calm of the flat surrounding me as I made my way to the kitchen. I pulled out my phone to scroll through my messages until my thumb hovered over his name.
For a minute, I leaned against the counter and debated whether to send another text or just let it go.
I'd seen enough of his breakups – with both men and women – to know how this would play out.
He'd sulk for a few days, bury his mind in work, and then throw himself into something new, convinced it would turn out differently.
It never did.
Just as I was about to text Marcus instead, the phone buzzed in my hand. Eli's name lit up the screen: You free this weekend? Could use some company.
My heart did that stupid little jump it always did whenever he reached out. It was just a casual invite. Nothing special. But that didn't stop the rush of excitement at the thought of seeing him for the first time in over a year.
Then the nerves came on just as quickly. Because seeing Eli always came with a price.
I typed out a quick response before I had a chance to second-guess myself: Yeah, I'm free. When were you thinking?
His reply came almost immediately: Friday night. Drinks at mine?
I smiled a little. That usually meant the night would end on his balcony with Eli rambling about his latest project or venting about something. It was always easy to slip into that routine with him. But it also reminded me of just how different our lives had become.
I sent a quick confirmation, my fingers lingering over the screen after the message went through.
Excitement and nerves tangled in my stomach, knotted too tightly to pull apart.
Visiting Eli was always like that. I loved being around him, but I outgrew London ages ago.
It hadn't been my world for almost two decades, and it never would be again.
Despite that, it was easier for me to go to him.
I could step into his life for a weekend, pretend I belonged, and then slip back into the quiet of Tunbridge Wells.
But truthfully, I didn't fit in with the type of people Eli surrounded himself with.
London buzzed with energy, and it wasn't for me.
And every time I left, the gap between us stretched just a little more.
I tucked my phone away and filled the kettle, trying to shake the restlessness that had crept back in.
Honestly, I wanted to see him. No matter how much our lives had changed, Eli was still Eli.
My best friend and the one who'd always been there, even if it didn't feel the same as when we were teens.
But there was always an edge to it. That quiet, persistent ache I'd never been able to shake.
No matter how much time passed, I couldn't stop feeling like I was waiting for something that would never come.
Waiting for Eli to see me the way I saw him.
Waiting for him to need me as much as I needed him.
I sighed and plugged the kettle in. Friday couldn't come soon enough.