. . . a KitKat for two
I’d be lying if I said that one conversation with Lina didn’t do a big old number on my psyche.
In fact, it’s all I’ve been able to think about since leaving Salzburg.
Thank God for Noah as without him I’m not entirely sure I would have made the train today.
I’ve been a husk of myself, floating through the day on autopilot.
‘Excuse me, ma’am?’
I rip from my storm-cloud to look up at the man hovering above my seat. He smiles awkwardly at the eye contact, scratching behind his ear before looking down timidly at his phone.
My heart picks up speed as I scramble frantically for my phone. ‘Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it said on my ticket that—’
‘Oh, don’t worry, ma’am. Your friend paid me to swap. I’m 22J. He’s waiting for you.’
I clumsily grab my things and make my way down the aisle as gracefully as possible in a moving train. Eventually I find Noah, sitting alone in a tabled section for four, a bounty of food items spread in front of him.
He greets me, beaming. ‘Took you long enough!’
‘What’s going on?’ I look at him cautiously.
‘I felt like I owed you a good travel experience after the train to Salzburg,’ he says. ‘Come, sit!’
He gestures to the two seats opposite him and I shuffle my way into the one by the window.
While I was sitting in my aisle seat, brain fog at the helm, I hadn’t once bothered to look out the window.
The views are breathtaking. I gasp at the vast rivers and snow-capped mountains that paint a perfect picture of idyllic pastures as we zoom by.
‘It’s stunning, isn’t it?’ Noah asks, following my line of sight. ‘Almost doesn’t seem real, it’s so perfect. I’m glad we get to take it in together. Speaking of . . .’
He lunges for the items on the table and begins to vigorously tear open packets. My eyes scan over the excessive variety. He’s got sandwiches, chocolate, crisps, individually wrapped biscuits, gummy bears, cereal bars and more.
‘You like?’ he stops his unboxing to ask proudly. ‘I had to make do with what the snack trolley had in stock. Thought we could debrief over food while we take in the view.’ He cracks open both of the cans of Fanta Limón and hands me one. ‘Cheers!’ he says as we smash the cans together.
I take a sip of the warm bubbles and grab a KitKat from the table. ‘How much did this cost you?’
I glanced at the menu when I first boarded the train and immediately had to look away. I understand the increased demand and the lack of other options, but the extortion I saw happening was truly evil.
‘Too much.’ He grimaces. ‘But worth every penny. The only veggie sandwiches they had were cheese or egg mayo, which both sounded a bit naff, but I got one of each anyway. We can halve them.’
He reaches over to grab the cheese sandwich near my hand, using it as an excuse to not-so-subtly analyse my expression. He glances down at his lap as he sits back in his seat, pulling one of the triangles from the packet and taking a deep breath.
‘You seemed a bit down this morning. And last night, actually. Is everything okay?’ he asks.
It’s clear he’s attempting to downplay his concern, but, unfortunately, it’s painted all over his tightly creased brow.
‘I’m fine,’ I say.
I snap my KitKat in half and look out at the passing scene in the window.
I follow the curves of the rolling mountains, letting them lull me into a sense of incredibly forced peace.
The trees of the forests start to build, the dark-green leaves morphing into one as we whizz past them at speed.
I use the moment to take it all in and remember why and how I’m here.
I’m doing this – travelling, living part of my dream as I write across different countries.
‘That’s good,’ he says dubiously. ‘It’s just – and look, I will totally drop it if you really don’t want to talk about it . . . but you seemed so content when you were on the phone at Lina’s and then you got back, and you were just a bit . . . duller.’
‘Wow, thanks,’ I say, shocked at his use of the word ‘dull’.
His eyes widen. ‘No, not like that! You’re not dull – sorry, bad wording. It’s just . . .’ He takes a beat. ‘You are so . . . bright as a person. You fizz and you sparkle; it’s like looking at the sun. And yesterday, it was like your light had been dimmed.’
He turns to look me in the eyes, a weight behind his.
‘You are far too special a person to let anybody dim your light,’ he says.
There it is again. The flutter in my chest that I hoped my few days with Lina had drowned.
It speaks louder than words can and shouts over the chaos of my mind.
With Tom I felt loved, of course, he was as polite as they come, but I never ever felt like this.
Noah puts me in a spotlight. Noah looks at me as if I glow.
He bolsters me further than I knew was possible.
I love myself, I do – everyone should. But Noah has set a bar I now endeavour to reach for myself. I grab the second stick of my KitKat.
He takes my hand in his, his eyes darker as they stare perceptively into mine.
‘What happened?’ he asks softly.
I take a deep breath.
‘Things didn’t end so well,’ I say quietly. ‘I was happy – we were happy . . . until we weren’t.’
A sigh leaves my lips as I hark back to the last time I uttered that sentence, moments after Tom ended things on the streets of Shoreditch. We were fine – easy and fine – until that wasn’t enough for him. I wasn’t enough for him. I’m never enough for anyone.
He tenses.
‘Did she do something?’ he asks.
I can see his neck is straining at the thought of her hurting me. He gulps harshly, waiting for more information before he strikes. It’s taking everything in him not to react harder.
‘Nothing physical. Nothing that bad mentally, either. She’s a lovely person, but she reminded me that it couldn’t last. None of this can last. I’m using people for content, chewing them up and then spitting them out like some weird, predatory writing machine.’
I slump onto the table, sweeping the array of treats Noah’s way as my arms shroud my head in distress.
‘You’re not a predator.’ His voice is firm as he reaches out and strokes my arm for comfort.
‘I kind of am.’ I mutter into my arms. ‘Lina said—’
‘Lina knew you for six days,’ he tuts.
I rip my face from the table to find his nostrils flaring.
‘And she clearly didn’t know you at all if she could look you in the eye and think you were anything but a bloody ray of sunshine that she should be so lucky to—’
He trails off, gulping down the rest of his words. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as they disappear down his throat and I feel myself long for what was to come next. My breath quivers.
‘But she made some good points,’ I say, trying to snap back into focus. ‘Do you think my column’s unethical?’
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I picture Lina’s face when she mentioned my column. My chest seizes. She was right. I know she was. I’ve just been avoiding the obvious for far too long.
‘I enter into all these dates knowing that nothing can happen, and that in a few days I’ll be moving on to the next. I waste their time and get their hopes up for nothing, all so I can use their stories for my own financial gain. Even if I like someone I just, what? Move on anyway?’
My eyes are drawn to him, remembering that first night in his kitchen. I may have been lost in the drinks and the moonlight and the excitement of it all, but, as I stare at him now, I know the truth. I didn’t want to move on from him.
‘It’s all so pointless.’ I watch the sun hit his face. ‘I’ll come back from this trip having dated, sure, but I’ll never find love. Not like you.’
He blinks back, confused. ‘Like me?’
The words are light, whisper-thin, but the weight of them is palpable.
His eyes run over me timidly – it’s the first time he’s cowered in this conversation and the honesty of it sends me into a tailspin.
I can’t do this. I can’t ruin this. I take a sip of my Fanta as I wash down the lump in my throat and shake myself back to normality.
‘Yeah, like you and your mission!’ I say, a little too chirpily. ‘You’ll have a girlfriend in no time.’
A small smile graces my lips, nervous but sure. Sure enough to have him mirror it with an only slightly shaky laugh.
‘We’ll see,’ he says. ‘I might be broken. But you, Amorie, you certainly are not. Regardless of what Lina said, you’re putting yourself out there, trying new things, and captivating an audience of fans. Your voice is special and definitely not unethical. You’re dating just like anyone else would.’
A real laugh leaves my lips this time.
‘I’m doing eighty dates in six months,’ I say. ‘It’s hardly what anyone else would do.’
His smile meets mine, true and clear, stretching mine even further, pushing it past limits I wasn’t sure were possible with my mood.
‘Okay, fine, not exactly like anyone else would . . . But the premise is still the same. Do you go into every first date in your life thinking it will last for ever?’ I shake my head, my eyes still refusing to leave his.
He watches closely, just as locked in. A shot of warmth hits my stomach.
‘Of course not. Not many do. It would be nice if it did, obviously. But for a first date, it’s really not that deep.
You’ve never promised anyone anything and you’ve told anyone that you’ve been intimate with about the column . . . right?’
I nod, this time. Sam and Lina knew exactly what the situation was before we got into bed.
‘But I wasn’t the one to tell them – someone else did, both times,’ I say.
‘And yet they’re still the only people you went all the way with.
Sounds pretty ethical to me. Plus, I’ve read your column.
You’ve changed enough details and dramatised the dates enough to not be intrusive.
You have nothing to worry about.’ He breaks eye contact to reach across the table for the egg-mayo sandwich, before promptly shoving it my way. ‘Now eat something substantial.’
I follow his order dutifully. He watches me take my first bite, chew and swallow before he goes back to making his own selection. My chest starts to decompress, head lightening the longer we meet each other’s eyes and I feel the words tumble out of my mouth before I can control them.
‘I love you.’
I freeze.
I didn’t mean to say it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mean it. The love burns its way through me every single time we’re together.
I just didn’t need to say it out loud. Out loud, it becomes real. Out loud, it definitely violates a fair few of our ground rules.
He opens his mouth, the corners picking up tentatively as he ruminates on a response. It sets off a fresh wave of heart palpitations, fast as fireworks. I snap my head to the window.
‘And I love this view,’ I say.
He takes the hint, facing it too as he clears his throat. ‘Yeah, already looks like a winner. Which reminds me, actually – what are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Not much, why?’ I ask, thankful for the progression.
He shifts awkwardly in his seat, dropping his eyes back down. It activates alarm bells in my head, but I try to keep them to myself so as not to spook him.
‘It’s nothing major. I just . . . I booked a day trip tomorrow and realised I don’t really want to do it alone.’
The tone is flippant and uncaring, but as I look at his face I can see the new dip in his brow and stoop of his shoulders. I sit up straighter, studying the deeper, sullen breaths.
‘No hot date you could take? The night is still young.’
He shakes his head, still looking down. ‘This isn’t something I can do with a stranger.’
My body tingles at the mystery of it, eager to learn more, but it’s quickly overtaken by a stronger feeling . . . the rush of warmth at the idea that whatever this is, he would only want to do it with me.
‘Count me in,’ I say, as firmly as I can.
The answer clearly brings him some peace, his shoulders relaxing slightly as a smile springs back to his lips.
‘Thank you.’ He breathes deeply before launching back into action. ‘I’ll fill you in as we go, but make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight. You’ll also need water, a hair-tie probably, sensible shoes . . .’
I take my phone out to make notes, pleased to see him upbeat again.
‘And Amorie?’
I look up to catch him staring at me.
‘I love you too,’ he says.
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘I don’t care if you did or didn’t. I love our friendship,’ he says with certainty.