. . . a change of plan
I tap my key card against the sensor and slump against the door as I wait impatiently for the beep.
I want to be off my feet. I want to be out of this dress.
I want to decompress from a day of non-stop socialising.
The beep finally sounds and I turn the handle, pushing at the door with the entirety of my body weight.
‘You’re back early.’
I startle at the sight of Noah, peacefully folding clothes cross-legged on his bed.
‘Was the date that bad?’ he asks, trying to hide his glee.
‘The date was lovely, actually. But we are definitely just meant to be friends,’ I say.
I make my way to my bed and turn to find him gawking at me.
‘But it was Nigel! Perfect Nigel from uni, who felt like fate!’ He gasps in shock, clutching his hand to his chest.
I roll my eyes at the melodrama and force back the laugh that threatens to leave my mouth. It’s funny how sure I was that Nigel was this big sign, and how quickly I took that sign and threw it back at the boy across from me.
‘Perfect Nigel and I are pretty perfect friends and today proved that once and for all.’
He sits up straighter, his smile dropping. ‘Perfect friends? More perfect than you and me?’
My lip curls at his worry. ‘You have a real jealous streak,’ I say jokingly.
‘Only for you.’ He says this too quickly.
I feel my heart hop and immediately look away in panic. I need him to leave. I need him to be out of my space so I can start my self-imposed feeling-cleansing ritual.
‘You should be leaving for your date soon, right? Love you and all, but after today I need to be horizontal and non-verbal with no one around to judge me,’ I say.
His expression shifts, the once engaged happiness falling to something far more neutral. I lean closer.
‘She cancelled.’ He tries to say it lightly, but the words fall like lead to the floor.
‘Oh.’
I try to match his tone but as he looks over, I can tell he caught the pity in that single syllable. He shrugs.
‘It’s fine, I barely knew her.’
But his nonchalance doesn’t fool me one bit. He was excited. I could tell by the way his eyes lit up when he was describing the date to me. It made me sick.
‘Did she have a good reason?’ I ask.
His eyes drop yet again. ‘I was a little late by the time I got back from dropping you off. She waited twenty minutes and decided that was enough. Didn’t see her messages till I got there myself.’
My heart sinks. ‘I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have got you involved. This was my mission, not yours, and now I’ve messed things up . . .’
He shrugs dejectedly. ‘Don’t apologise, I involved myself. I just should have managed my time better.’
‘But if I hadn’t ended up outside the city . . .’ I don’t even know what to say.
‘I liked our little adventure. It is fine; I barely knew her. Plus, it gave me plenty of time to return the scooter and avoid a pretty hefty fine,’ he says.
I glance across the room and spot picnic supplies spilling from his open backpack.
He’d been shopping and planning. He was definitely excited, as much as he seems to want to hide it now.
And it’s all my fault for sweeping him up into my nonsense when he’s supposed to be focusing on his own task at hand.
My stomach stirs at the notion. Misplaced feelings aside, I have to fix this or at least boost his mood a little.
‘Where exactly were you going for sunset?’ I ask coolly.
He shifts slightly, resentment triggered. ‘Janiculum Hill. It’s like, twenty-five minutes uphill from here.’
‘Nice,’ I say. I walk towards the coffee table and rezip his backpack. He jumps at the sound. ‘Let’s go.’
His face muddles into deep-set confusion. ‘What?’
‘We’ve got like twenty minutes until the sun starts setting and we can walk fast!’ I say.
He shakes his head instantly. ‘You’ve been on three dates today. You must be exhausted – you even said you wanted—’
‘To be horizontal, I know.’ I finish his sentence briskly. ‘I can do that as I sit and admire the promised panoramic views of the city.’
I run over to him, backpack slung around my shoulder as I attempt to pull him off his bed and towards the door. But he stays fixed in place, like immovable stone.
‘You don’t have to do this. I know that you’re tired,’ he says.
I wave his negativity away with a breezy flick of my wrist, tugging even harder at him with my other hand.
‘I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for free wine and an allegedly incredible view. Now, come on! We are literally chasing the sun and the longer we stay here the more it wins!’
He shakes his head at me once more in disbelief, but I catch the smile threatening to creep up his mouth.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks.
‘As can be.’
Finally, his feet touch the floor and he gives in to me.
The journey takes less time than expected. I attribute it to Noah’s freakishly long legs and my determination to keep up with him. By the time we reach the top, the sun has only just started to dip, washing everything around us in a soft pink glow.
We manage to pounce on an empty bench just as someone gets up, much to the chagrin of the other seat-watchers around us. I feel their beady eyes bore into us, but I simply don’t care. We’re sitting, face out, at the most perfect view; nothing else remotely matters.
‘Cheers,’ Noah says, thrusting his plastic glass of wine my way.
I knock mine against it, watching as the liquid sloshes against the sides and catches the light.
Our smiles meet, both tired and a little downtrodden but pushing through regardless because at least we’re together.
The dimming rays paint streaks of light down Noah’s face, illuminating him in an almost godly glow.
‘What a day,’ Noah sighs, looking out at the view.
‘Tell me about it.’ I take another swig. ‘Good ending, though.’
I see him smile out of the corner of my eye and think about how much this trip has linked us for life.
Every time he so much as motions to smile, I feel my spirits lift in time with his mouth.
He takes another sip of his wine, followed by a deep breath as he closes his eyes tightly shut.
When they reopen, they’re brighter, washing away his sadness as if it never existed at all. He turns towards me.
‘So, go on, then, talk me through the whole day.’
I shrug. ‘Three men, three dates. I’m kind of over it.’
He laughs softly, his eyes crinkling at the sides. ‘You can’t be over it. You’ve got what? Like, forty dates to go?’
‘Forty-seven.’ I grimace.
I slump back against the bench as I run through the last thirty-three dates in my head.
All the small talk about my favourite colour, my career, my siblings, blends into one misshapen, beige ball.
Then I think about Nigel. I think about how the universe placed the perfect, most understanding person in front of me.
And how I still managed to mess it up, because I’ve fallen for the one person I absolutely can’t fall for.
I throw my head back and take a deep breath, then mutter under my breath, ‘It’s all just so pointless. ’
He has his own goals. His own mission that does not include me. He needs serious and I’m not serious. I’m forty-seven dates away from serious.
‘Okay, there is a point. Money,’ Noah says.
He sits up straighter, twisting his spine so he can meet my eye properly.
‘Not to mention the amazing stories, the new experiences . . . You’re learning what you like and what you don’t, and exposing yourself to so many different kinds of people.’
The sun starts to dip lower, the soft pink dipping into a burnt amber and casting a deep orange light across our faces. The chatter around us mutes with the colouring as more people head back down the mountain, satisfied with the sunset.
‘Is that what you like about dating? Learning about all the different kinds of people?’ I ask him.
It would make sense for Noah; he lives and breathes socialising. He pauses to think.
‘I suppose it’s one of the things I like.’
‘And the other things?’ I ask.
His lips twitch mischievously.
‘You know the other thing,’ he says gruffly. ‘You experienced it firsthand on a late-night train here, actually.’
I feel a sticky warmth pool in the pit of my stomach as images of him inside me start to resurface. I’ve been trying to fend them off since it happened, but even more so since talking to Nigel. I snap my head back to the view.
‘Do you think we need a new rule? No talking about our little night together?’ I ask.
‘Okay, firstly, please don’t use the word “little” when referring to anything that night.’ He smiles. It’s contagious. I hate that it’s contagious. ‘And secondly, no, I think it’s more fun to keep the memory alive.’
The thought of him actually wanting to keep it alive makes my heart glow in time with the sun. I look out again, taking in the apricot-bathed rooftops and swirls of ember that start to fade from the sky.
‘Okay, fine, fair enough,’ I agree. ‘But that’s it? Sex and stories? That’s all you like about dating?’
‘You make me sound so uncouth,’ he tuts. ‘Of course there’s more I like, but it’s not exactly the easiest thing to put into words.’
He pauses again, and out of the corner of my eye I can see him follow my gaze to the city below us.
‘There’s this moment, you know, when a date’s going well and the two of you are really vibing, where suddenly nothing else matters and no one else exists.
You become this weird kind of unit, like this .
. . bubble, and you float in it together and lock into each other’s eyes, and everything feels brighter.
Any topic of conversation, as mundane as it may be, becomes this inside joke.
You realise that no one will experience what you two are experiencing in that same way, ever again.
You’re the first to have done it and the only ones that can. I think that’s pretty cool.’
He takes a breath, the usual bravado of his stare pulling back to reveal something more vulnerable. It’s a side of Noah that I’ve only seen in brief, fleeting glimpses. Now, here it is, out here in the open on this bench.
‘Do you feel that on every date?’ I ask.
What he described seems too rare, too lyrical, to feel with every single person you meet. But if anyone could, it would absolutely be Noah. He’s the kind of person who makes you better just by being around him.
He shakes his head. ‘No, not at all. That’s how you know it’s special.’
His hand trembles ever so slightly as he lifts his cup to his mouth. He takes a deep, emphatic swallow and keeps his eyes on the sky, fixing them to the curve of the sloping sun.
‘I felt it with you,’ he says, voice deep and timid.
I gulp, heart stilling. ‘Yeah, I felt it too.’
I thought I was alone. I thought I was the only one who could tell that this meant more from day one.
‘And El.’ He shakes his head. ‘That’s why I went along with it and kissed her, even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do.’
He runs his hand through his hair, eyes clamping shut once again as he runs the scenes of the El mess through his head on a loop. That whole thing really got to him. I knew it did at the time, but I didn’t realise it would leave such a lasting impression.
I reach out and touch his arm, bringing him back to this moment. His eyes flick open and I pray it’s halted the thoughts running through his head.
‘Hey. We all make mistakes. You owned it, you moved on . . . no harm, no foul.’ I whisper it softly and wait for him to relax, to process, to agree. But instead, he stays balled up in his nerves and doubts. He glances down at his shoes before speaking again.
‘We’ve been texting.’
I can’t process it. ‘What? Who’s we?’
‘Me and El.’ He sighs. ‘We never stopped, actually – it’s all under the guise of “friendship”. But that doesn’t change the fact it still feels kind of . . .’
‘Wrong?’ I finish for him, harsher than intended.
His eyes close again and he lets out a big huff through his nose. ‘So wrong. But I just . . . I can’t stop. She’s so easy to talk to and there’s definitely something there.’
My heart, stilled from mere moments ago, sinks like lead all the way to the bottom of my chest. He knows everything about me, every step and breath I’ve taken this trip, but once again he’s kept a part of himself under lock and key.
‘Does she still have a boyfriend?’ My voice is slow, stilted, incapable of seeing this as real life.
‘Yep.’ His tone is biting.
‘Then you can’t.’
‘And I wouldn’t. At least, not again.’ He throws his head back, the curve of his neck sloping with the bench as he lets out a long and frustrated groan.
‘God this is so messy, I don’t know what I’m doing,’ he says, his tone almost whiny in nature.
‘Sorry I kept it from you. I just knew that you’d tell me it was wrong. ’
‘Because it is.’
I’m still startled. Five minutes ago, he sat here waxing lyrical about the first time we met.
How could someone feel those things, build our friendship, touch me like he did, and yet still proceed to keep such a secret stowed away?
I feel my blood start to boil. I want to scream at him, rip his phone out of his hand and tell him to run away to El if they love each other so much.
But then I look at his face, lost and sad and confused, and want nothing more than to make everything better.
Because that’s what friends do. And Noah and I are friends. Noah and I will always, only ever, be friends. We promised.
‘Go on, show me the messages. Let’s get you out of this,’ I sigh.
His neck snaps towards me in shock. I myself am shocked that it came from me too, but now that it’s out there I have to follow through. I risk so much between us if I don’t.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks timidly. ‘Like, that’s not . . . weird for you, right?’
I feign as casual a head shake as I can muster. ‘Why would it be weird for me? We’re friends.’ I fake a laugh.
If I’m not mistaken, I see his smile falter for a second, in a moment so small it feels like some sort of glitch. He quickly shakes it off, grabbing his phone and reemerging with the cheeriest of dispositions.
‘Yeah, right, we’re friends, of course.’ He shuffles closer, phone in hand.
He opens up their chat and scrolls as I try to hold on to the pieces of my shattered heart.