Chapter 19
The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting intricate lace shadows on the wall and over Archie’s body. I trace them into his abdomen, tiny impermanent tattoos. He’s not asleep; instead his own fingers are brushing over my shoulder but we’re not moving.
‘It’s strange,’ Archie says to the ceiling. ‘I’m sort of waiting for you to tell me you’ve got to go.’
I let the comment hang in the air, think of all the times he played it cool, acted like I was doing him a favour by leaving as soon as we were finished, until he stopped, until he did everything other than actually saying that he wanted me to stay.
‘I can if you like.’ I sit up in bed, pull the covers to my chest and try to slip out.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ He reaches for me quickly with a grunt, both hands clasping around my waist and pulling me back to the bed with a thump.
I shriek – it feels strange to laugh quite so early in the morning, before the coffee, before warming up for the day.
We stay there, his arms cocooned around me, his warmth, the sleep still in my eyes, and he presses his lips to my neck in a long, languid kiss. I take it, take him all in.
‘I want this,’ he says quietly into my ear. ‘I want this, all of the time.’ I feel an ache in my stomach, a momentary chasm of sadness that disappears when my rational brain kicks in. This is Archie: gorgeous, talented, safe Archie. There’s nothing to be sad about. Here he is, wanting me.
‘It won’t be like this all the time,’ I reason, the frustratingly logical spoilsport coming out. ‘We’ll only get a handful of nights like that and mornings like this.’
He sighs, goes back to pressing his lips into my neck. ‘I guess I don’t really mean the sex and the lie-ins,’ he murmurs. ‘I mean you, Avie. I want you.’
‘Why?’ I scoff. I sound mildly irritated and I don’t know why; any other girl would be swooning. I should be swooning. I pull away from his arms and look at him, tugging the covers up to my shoulders as if last night hadn’t happened.
‘What?’
‘Why do you want me, Archie? You could have anyone, girls must be throwing themselves at you. Why on earth are you here, putting up with me and my baggage, wanting me?’
He lets out a frustrated sigh and looks up at the beams in the ceiling, biting the corner of his lip so hard it starts to blanche.
When he has gathered himself, he looks at me with a clarity that is terrifying: all of his features sharpen, the whites of his eyes are brighter, the green of his pupils practically radiating. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’
‘No, I really don’t.’
‘That night when I met you, before I knew who you were and what had happened, you looked so out of place there was this sort of halo of sadness around you and it didn’t suit you one bit because you don’t look like a person who should be sad.
And those first few times we hooked up, you came to me this kind of despondent flight risk, but then when we were together, there were these…
glimmers of happiness.’ His hands wave about in the air a little and he smirks as if he knows how poetic he’s being, how uncomfortable this is for both of us.
‘It was like I could kind of help mend you in some way, and I wanted to. I never knew the person you were before you lost him, but I see echoes of her sometimes.’ He is picking his words so carefully, so gently, I wonder if he has thought about them before, practised them, maybe even written them down somewhere.
My throat starts to ache with a lump of emotion and I have to swallow it back to regain control.
I unwind his hands from my torso. Turn my body so that I’m looking in his eyes, which are glistening in the corners. ‘Avie, what I’m trying to say is, I want to be a part of your life in a way that isn’t like it is now…’
My hand strokes his cheek. ‘I know and you’ve been so good and so fucking patient and I don’t deserve it…’
‘Of course you deserve it,’ he persists.
‘I…’ I shake my head. I could tell him everything now, lay everything on the table about Florian, about how complicated this whole thing is, the reason why Archie is even here in the first place, but he looks so bloody hopeful that I can’t bring myself to do it. ‘I just need a bit more time, Archie.’
He falters. ‘But you do want it too don’t you, eventually?’
I think of last night, being a couple again, how easy it made things, how the world was built around not being on your own.
Mum will be ecstatic, the conversations about dating will stop, there’ll be someone to go to dinner with, or pick me up from the train station, I could split rent, move somewhere new, start again.
I won’t end up kissing my brother-in-law because he showed me a basic level of kindness. I won’t be alone.
‘Yes,’ I say earnestly. ‘Yes, I want it.’
His happiness is intoxicating, the look of relief on his face contagious. For a moment I wonder if I’ve agreed to marry him. I slip out of the bed and stetch out my limbs that have been contorted into positions they hadn’t been in for a while.
‘Where are you going?’ He lies back in the bed, arms behind his head watching me.
‘Oh, running away.’ I shrug, reach for my pants and throw his shirt on over the top for decency in case someone catches a glimpse through a window.
‘I’ll take mine black with no sugar,’ he shouts after me.
I turn the radio on. The apartment is warmer than it has been; it’s meant to be the first properly warm day of the year – a spring heatwave – which has caused some more protests about climate change but I’m quite glad I can at least be here to enjoy some sun.
I fill the percolator and place it onto a burner on the stove.
The buzzer goes. It’s strange for a Saturday; no one buzzes for me apart from The American.
However sometimes people read the names wrong on the interface, so I press the button to the main door regardless and start preparing some eggs.
I turn the radio up, dance around as the coffee boils and the eggs start to whiten in the pan.
I feel like my senses have ignited. I feel everything, notice the cobwebs in the corner, a new little watercolour sparrow on the side of the fridge, how much the basil plant has grown in the corner.
What I clearly don’t notice is the knocking at the door, the person calling my name.
I only notice when it’s too late, when Florian Grenaud is standing in an open doorway grinning wildly at me dancing in my underwear.
‘Fuck!’ I scream as I notice him. I look down, realise my predicament and turn to the wall, furiously buttoning up the shirt until it covers most of my modesty. ‘What the fuck, Florian?’
‘You buzzed me in!’ He holds up his hands and when I turn back around, he keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.
‘I thought it was a mistake.’
‘I’ve been knocking for a while; I rang you too.’
‘Yeah, well I’ve been… busy.’ I look around at the kitchen, rush to turn the radio down.
‘I can see that.’
‘What are you doing here anyway?’
He shuts the door behind him, aware that whilst I haven’t exactly invited him in, we’re probably past pleasantries now.
‘I haven’t seen you around.’
‘Not a coincidence,’ I answer back quickly and push the second cup out of view.
‘I’m not here to bring it all back up again, it was… well it was what it was, but I’ve started getting quite used to seeing you around, I might even go so far as to say I enjoy your company.’
‘Well, that’s great.’
‘Come down to the river tomorrow with me.’
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s meant to be hot, you have no transport, thought it might do you good to get out.’
‘Oh, that’s kind but I’m busy…’
‘Busy?’ He gestures to the radio, to my outfit and the dance party for one he had interrupted.
‘Sure you are.’ He smirks into the floorboards just as there is movement from the back of the room.
We both look up, startled, as a man in his boxers walks from the bedroom into the lounge.
I stand there aghast watching both men take in the situation.
Archie’s eyes fall on Florian, confusion rippling through his features.
It’s almost the same look on Florian’s face mixed in with something a little edgier.
‘Hi?’ Archie greets him warily, skimming around the apartment to my side. His hand reaches around my waist and rests on my hip. I look at Florian whose eyes fixate on the connection, the familiarity.
‘This is Ettie’s brother, Florian,’ I fill Archie in.
‘Oh!’ He holds a hand out to Florian who looks at it a little cautiously before taking it and is then shaken vigorously by Archie. ‘Sorry, mate, you’re not what I expected.’
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
‘Not at all. As you can probably tell we weren’t expecting visitors, would have maybe put some clothes on,’ he laughs, gesturing to the both of us.
Archie doesn’t care about the fact that he’s in his boxers; I mean he doesn’t exactly have anything to worry about on that score anyway but he does hover over me, making me feel a little more exposed than before.
‘I was just popping by, but I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Florian was inviting me to the river tomorrow, but I said we were busy.’
‘We can go,’ Archie says casually and reaches for the coffee cup on the side.
I pivot. ‘What?’
Archie shrugs. ‘Not like we have plans and it’s meant to be hot, isn’t it? I mean, if you don’t mind me tagging along?’
Florian doesn’t look as alarmed as he should, instead he manages to play it off coolly. ‘Uh, no sure.’
‘Didn’t bring any trunks though.’ Archie grins widely.
‘You’ll be fine in those,’ Florian gestures to Archie’s boxers. ‘Although Ava might need to bring something else.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I snap at him, but Florian’s lips have curled up in a little grin at his own comment. It quickly vanishes when he looks back to Archie, perhaps realising what he has just agreed to.
‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven.’ He turns to go. ‘Nice to meet you…’
‘Archie,’ Archie fills in the gap.
‘Archie,’ Florian confirms and then leaves.