. . . a busy schedule #3
I’m not one to believe in fate, but I can’t deny the chances that have brought me and Nigel back together.
Between the chance meeting yesterday before his very last night, and whatever compelled him to book this bar ‘just in case’, it seems like the universe played every card that it had to get us together, right here, right now.
I look across to him, to the face that used to stay up with me at night.
To the face that had my back when no one else in my flat did.
He looks the same – life hasn’t aged him, bar a little more facial hair.
I feel a pull in my stomach. This is kismet. This could be something real.
The waiter hands us a set of menus and some complimentary prosecco, and I smile back politely as he explains the way the bar works. Two drinks minimum per person and a selection of aperitivo dishes. Easy enough. Until I spot the fact the cocktails are twenty-five euros.
I scan over them, nonetheless. What else can I do?
‘So, Nigel, catch me up. What have you been up to?’ I ask, searching for anything remotely cheaper.
He sucks air in through his teeth. ‘How much time do you have?’
‘All night,’ I say.
He raises an eyebrow. ‘All night?’
I shrug. ‘However long you want me.’
His lips slant slightly as he reveals a charmingly crooked smile, before leaning further across the table. I lean too. From here I can make out his dimples, even in the dark.
‘Okay, may as well start at the beginning.’ He rolls his eyes back as he thinks. ‘Got to uni, met an absolute firecracker of a woman, befriended her, came to rely on her and then she left . . .’
‘How dare she!’ I gleefully play along.
‘Uni wasn’t for her,’ he says, in my defence. ‘But you know who was?’
He pauses, waiting for me to answer. I sigh gravely.
‘Tom.’
‘Tommy boy.’ He shakes his head. ‘Thought you and I had something, and then he came out of nowhere and whisked you off your feet.’
He winks at me, stressing the levity despite his deep words, and I feel a small spark within me. I let out a laugh and he meets it with a rich, warming smile. All at once, that spark ignites into a full flame.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ I say.
‘Hey, the heart wants what it wants. And, honestly, it’s my bad – I knew I wanted you, but I didn’t move fast enough,’ he replies. ‘What happened with you and Tom, anyway?’
We halt as the waiter comes over. I order the same drink as Nigel, too caught up in our catch-up to take in the menu. He’s barely turned on his heel before I continue.
‘He dumped me,’ I say.
‘Ouch.’
‘It’s okay, single suits me better,’ I say, shrugging.
The words leave my mouth with little to no thought, but I realise afterwards just how much I mean them.
My relationship with Tom consisted of settling, just dwelling in what I had.
I never grew, I never progressed and I never spoke up.
I just . . . dwindled for five years and then one whole year after.
Let life happen to me, rather than happening to it.
This trip has changed that. This trip I’ve worked hard to build my own story.
I straighten my spine, bolstered with a new, earned confidence. Nigel stares across from me, besotted.
‘You’re right, it does. You are glowing. And your column is absolutely amazing,’ he says, gushing.
I tense up, my newfound confidence a thing of the past.
‘You’ve read my column?’ I ask, trying to hide my tremors.
My mind immediately flashes back to Lina, the sadness I felt washing over me like muscle memory. I grit my teeth and brace myself for Nigel’s scathing response, but he continues to smile back at me.
‘Yeah. I was already following you, of course, but today I clicked on your link and actually read through some of the articles. You’re just as funny as you used to be; I was cracking up.’
It’s positive, but not enough. Lina was positive too.
‘So, after today, we don’t speak?’ I ask bluntly.
His eyes widen in shock. ‘What?’
But I don’t let my guard down. I did that before and it backfired. ‘You’ve read my column, so you know I’ve still got over forty dates to go,’ I say. ‘So, this will end tonight.’
I look him dead in the eye, doing my best to replicate the deathly look Lina gave me. But, unlike me, he doesn’t cower. Unlike me, his mood stays high, lips twisting into a perplexed but somewhat amused smirk.
‘But you come back to London after, right?’ he asks, as if the whole thing solves itself.
I pause, taken aback. ‘Well, yeah. But only after I go on over forty more dates,’ I say again.
It should be simple – Lina made it seem so.
Dates equal being unavailable for anything significant.
And Nigel seems significant. He’s always been significant.
There’s nothing more significant than a friend you might just have gained some feelings for.
I risk another glance at him, prepared to meet his newly disappointed glare, but he’s still staring back at me, intrigued.
‘Is there a reason you’re trying to push me away?’ he asks. ‘Hidden disgust? Secret lover? Anything of the sort?’
I shake my head, stunned into silence by the way he’s taken this in his stride, joking around like I haven’t just exposed our lack of a future. He reaches his hand across the table, waiting for me to respond. I place my palm in his, warm and soft as he wraps his fingers tightly around mine.
‘I’ve waited seven years to ask you out. I can wait forty more dates,’ he says firmly.
My heart flutters, mouth dry while I frantically scramble to bite back my tears. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of let-downs and misplaced feelings, and I didn’t realise just how badly I needed the validation.
He shuffles closer, scraping his stool across the floor until he’s next to me, and uses his finger to catch one small, escaped tear.
His finger lingers on my cheek even after it’s gone, pressing against the skin, soft and supple as our eyes meet.
I glance into his and note the different tones of brown and small specks of gold, eerily similar to a certain travel buddy I worked hard to forget.
The one who’s had my back throughout the trip.
The one who literally got me here today.
The one who pressed his palm against my cheek before he kissed me, just like this.
‘Am,’ he says, his voice shaking.
His lips brush against mine, waiting for one small word to grant them access. I close my eyes to still the nerves, but it’s to no avail. They thrash about in my stomach, desperately pushing me forward.
‘Yes, Noah?’
I gasp and then freeze, my hand clasped over my mouth. He freezes too, eyebrows shooting all the way up his forehead. His eyes fix on my horrified face – my open jaw, my panic-stricken eyes and my hollow, stretched cheeks.
‘So . . . Noah, huh? Your friend from yesterday?’ he asks, leaning back.
My cheek grows cold as he peels his hand back from my skin.
He continues. ‘I did have a feeling when you pulled up with him, wearing his jacket. But I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.’
‘It’s not like that,’ I mutter, still stunned.
‘Then what is it like? Because you just called me his name right before I was going to kiss you.’
He looks sheepish as he scans the crowd, nervously running his hand through his hair.
‘I am so sorry,’ I say.
‘Where is that man with our drinks?’ he asks, dodging me entirely as he surveys the crowd.
I grab his hand and squeeze, prompting his head to swivel back to face me.
‘I am so sorry, Noah.’ I gasp again. ‘Nigel! Oh, my God. I am so sorry. I meant Nigel. Nigel!’
I hold my breath as he looks me over, preparing for his outburst. But, to my surprise, it doesn’t come. Instead, he laughs. It starts off small but grows into a crescendo, bellowing out of him as he shakes his head in disbelief. I release a deep breath, shocked by the route he’s taken.
‘So, I’ve ruined this date,’ I say. ‘If you want to leave now, I understand. I’ll cover the minimum spend.’
I cringe as I promise it, thinking of my shallow pockets and the ‘credit-score update’ emails that I keep avoiding. But he continues to chuckle heartily, before motioning to call over the waiter.
‘Terrible date, yes, but great catch-up with an old friend,’ he says. ‘And like I said, I’ve been dying to try this place.’
His eyes light up as he spots the waiter walking over towards us, our first two cocktails perched on his tray. Before he arrives, Nigel quickly pushes the menu back towards me.
‘Pick your second drink. We’ve clearly got lots to get into.’