CHAPTER 22
They walked up the steps, the spite coursing through Jeremy making him strong.
The big glass doors were closed, but through them he could see the foyer of the faculty building where these events were always held.
It looked almost exactly as he remembered – shiny marble floors, hanging plants and lanterns, waiters wandering around with trays of drinks.
It had that expensive grandness universities aspired to – academic-interior-design chic.
It was packed, but Jeremy immediately recognised a couple of teachers from his time and a couple of familiar faces from other years.
He grabbed Sam’s hand and smiled at Liz and Anna, grateful he got to walk into this surrounded by his loved ones. That felt like a victory, and he was feeling spiteful enough to acknowledge it. Really, that should have been the spite plan all along, he realised.
Taking a breath, he opened the door and they walked in, pausing once the door closed behind them, as if they were posing. In an action film, something would have blown up behind them. However, apart from a couple of casual glances, nobody seemed to care or know who they were.
‘Drinks,’ Jeremy said authoritatively. ‘Spread out and reconnect at this location. Tell me if you see Miles or any of the Judases. Oh god, what am I doing?’
‘We don’t really know what they look like,’ Anna reminded him, but was already happily stalking a waiter.
Jeremy walked further into the crowd, keeping Sam’s hand firmly clasped in his.
He saw a waiter offering his tray to an older couple, and he patiently waited his turn, turning to make an aside to Sam.
And that’s when he saw him. Miles. Standing only a few people away, deep in conversation with a serious-looking older woman, who Jeremy decided was either some kind of dean-type figure, or maybe an agent or publisher.
They had to be important, because Miles was doing his ‘charming’ stance – one hand in his coat pocket, leaning in from his great height as if what the person was saying was fascinating, plenty of room to throw back his head and laugh or make eye contact.
He looked the same, at first glance – then Jeremy realised it was Miles but slightly melted, the signs of age mostly coming from bags under his eyes and the beginning of a receding hairline.
His blond hair was cropped tight now, probably strategically.
He still wore the same kind of outfit – a romantic idea of what a novelist should look like, all dark tones and heavy coats.
He was, unfortunately, still incredibly handsome – those signs of age only added to his appeal, his gravitas.
Jeremy had truly hoped he’d walk in and discover an incredibly ugly man, someone whose form matched his personality, but Miles would only get more handsome as he grew older.
The beard he was attempting suited him. That was …
annoying. Even worse was when Miles looked up, saw Jeremy staring at him, and gave him a heart-wrenching smile of recognition.
Jeremy froze like a kangaroo on a dark country road. He felt Sam stiffen next to him and squeeze his hand, clearly he’d recognised Miles, who had immediately begged off from the very serious conversation and was walking through the crowd towards them.
‘Oh, Jeremy, darling, I was so hoping I would see you here tonight!’ Miles exclaimed, holding his arms out wide and pulling Jeremy into one of those one-armed hugs, kissing him on the cheek.
Jeremy couldn’t help noticing that the hug separated him from Sam and moved him around like a chess piece on a board.
He remained stiff and in shock, managing a facial contortion some people might have described as smileesque, panicking in a low-key way.
‘Gosh, brings it all back, doesn’t it?’ Miles said, still smiling, holding Jeremy away from him now by the shoulders. ‘You look great! Love this retro number. Gosh, what a delight. What on earth have you been up to? It feels like literally forever ago.’
‘Uh,’ Jeremy managed wittily, completely thrown. Did Miles just compliment him? ‘So long … yeah, wow.’
Should he be angry? Should he be dismissive? What did being the better man actually entail in this situation? Why hadn’t he asked that question earlier? Should he be giving Miles a small gift? A hamper?
‘Yes, it’s been a very long time. How are you going?’ he tried, stiffly. He felt Sam standing next to him again, and re-took his hand and gestured towards him. ‘This is my boyfriend Sam. Sam, this is Miles. We … we used to date?’ he said as if it was a question.
‘Oh, charming,’ said Miles, holding out his hand and shaking Sam’s hand energetically, full smile and crinkled eyes.
Sam seemed equally thrown, managing a kind of confused smile and a ‘nice to meet you’ that also sounded like a question.
‘Yes, we were just kids, really,’ Miles said fondly, releasing Sam’s hand. ‘I’m sure I was quite beastly to Jeremy, as young and stupid men are often wont to be,’ he mused, looking genuinely awkward for a second.
Jeremy shrugged. This was not going in any of the ways he’d imagined, and clearly Sam thought so too.
‘Well, I think it was a bit more than … being young and stupid —’ Sam attempted, looking loyally at Jeremy, but he was interrupted by Miles looking over their shoulders and raising his eyebrows.
‘Sorry, looks like the dean wants me to get ready for my keynote. Blergh. I guess that’s showbiz!
’ He was walking away. ‘Sorry, Samuel, hold that thought! So nice to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your night. Jeremy, such a pleasure to see you again. Let’s chat later.
I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. ’
Miles pushed past them and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Jeremy gaping at Sam, who looked equally flummoxed.
‘That asshole,’ Sam said, but once again with a questioning lilt to the statement.
‘Yeah, he kinda seemed … nice? Or am I going insane?’ asked Jeremy. ‘I didn’t think he’d punch me or anything, but he seemed genuine. And what does he want to talk to me about?’
Sam snagged two glasses of red wine from a passing tray and took a deep drink from his. ‘I guess you’ve changed a lot since you dated, and we can only assume he has too. Maybe he’s become a better person?’
Jeremy frowned in bemusement. ‘I mean, he didn’t actually apologise, and he did kind of just … gloss over what he did to me, but …’
‘I don’t think you need to be nice back or anything,’ Sam said quickly.
‘He did humiliate you, and him being nice doesn’t change that.
If anything, it shows you that being the bigger man was always the best strategy, because if you’d come in looking spiteful and defensive, he’d just have made you look like an asshole. ’
Jeremy nodded, knowing Sam was right but still feeling off-centre.
Maybe he’d built Miles up into something so big, so villainous, that it didn’t match reality.
Maybe Miles had been a shit when he was twenty-one, and now he was less of a shit.
These things tended to happen. Jeremy had worn such skinny jeans when he was twenty-one that his leg hair didn’t grow in certain patches any more – and now he wore normal pants. People changed.
‘We just glared for, like, fifteen minutes at someone we are pretty sure is Miles,’ Anna announced proudly, pushing through the crowd to them, Liz behind her, each of them holding two glasses of wine. ‘Also, this wine is deeeeeesgusting. Grab me another one if they come by.’
‘Was it that guy?’ Sam asked, pointing to Miles, who was now speaking to another older woman, who Jeremy was sure was the dean this time. Lots of dean types roaming around.
‘Hmm, nope,’ answered Anna.
‘Oh well, I’m sure he deserved it,’ added Liz.
‘We just spoke to Miles,’ said Jeremy. ‘It was weird. He was being nice.’
‘Don’t trust him,’ hissed Liz. ‘It’s all part of his plan. This goes all the way up.’
They moved to a quieter location, drinks in hand.
Jeremy said brief hellos to a couple of people he recognised, and it was all extremely polite and determinedly pleasant.
He was seeing that he wasn’t the only one who had spiralled into an existential crisis about his life upon hearing about the reunion – looking around he saw plenty of nice new outfits, fresh haircuts, and clusters of nervous people.
He also saw quite a few of his former friends, often chatting together, and they’d either disperse when Jeremy got near, or the conversation would go silent, their smiles growing tight and polite, several sets of eyes tracking him quietly. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he didn’t think so.
‘Ah, Jeremy,’ said a soft voice. It was a woman named Belinda, someone he’d been very close to during the workshop, who’d reached out quite a few times after the incident, attempting to apologise for not telling him.
She’d always been one of the more ‘grown-up’ people in the workshop, and now she looked like a proper adult – and the only one who felt confident enough to approach him, apparently.
‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ she said, ‘but I’m really happy you came.
I often think about what Miles did to you and think how unfair it was, of all of us.
I’d like to apologise anyway – it was awful what Miles did, and I wish I could have been a better friend. ’
‘Oh, that,’ Jeremy scoffed, feeling like he had a better handle on the new strategy now. ‘Look, water under the bridge. I don’t even think about it any more.’
‘Oh,’ Belinda said, looking surprised. ‘Well, that’s very … enlightened of you.’
‘It was obviously a big deal at the time, and very traumatic,’ Jeremy said, unable to help himself. ‘But you know, I’ve been very busy. I’m a journalist now. That’s my boyfriend Sam over there … I got quite into pickling things earlier this year too.’