Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Sadie
O nly one thought throbs through my aching head as I march back to my flat, my legs shaking: why didn’t I ever pick up on anything from him, even for a second?
Feeling almost indignant about it, I cast my mind over the years of friendship Leo and I have shared. Every single day in the parlour. The trips to the pub, the gigs we went to together, the times we stayed up talking into the small hours about everything and nothing: tattoo designs, our favourite TV shows when we were kids, life in general. So much time spent together, and I never had the slightest idea that I was more than a close friend to him .
I don’t consider myself a stupid person, and I hate the idea that I’ve missed something that was probably so obvious. And I do get why he kept it to himself, because making a move on someone who is in a relationship is not a good look on anyone, even someone as sexually prolific as Leo. But was there really no clue? Have I been existing with my head in the clouds, oblivious to something so stark? Really?
And if so, where does that leave us? Him and me…has our friendship just been completely torpedoed?
I slam my front door shut and start to cry. As much as I hate it and wish I could change this part of myself, frustration and anger often comes out of my eyes as tears.
He wasn’t lying. This wasn’t one of his stupid wind-ups. I’ve never seen him so raw, ever. And it’s because of me. My stupid, blundering cluelessness. But how the bloody hell was I supposed to know? He never said, never gave me the slightest inkling that he -
I threw up in his fancy car when he picked me up after I got drunk on girl’s night a few months ago. I’d not long been dumped by Peter the Douchebag, and I was angry as hell. I’d tried to put the moves on him, slurring the entire time, and then collapsed.
And regained consciousness just long enough to barf all over the shiny new leather interior.
He didn’t so much as bat an eyelid, just encouraged me to get it all out. Even held my hair back with one hand while steering with the other.
I only have brief flashes of memory here and there, but I remember him carrying me into the Wishbone flat, gently setting me down on the bed in the recovery position, and placing a waste paper bin next to the bed, close to my head. And a glass of water and some ibuprofen for the morning.
I remember whimpering, and asking him why Peter didn’t want me anymore, why I was such a hopeless loser.
And I remember him stroking my hair, telling me I was the furthest thing from a loser he’s ever known. His hand was warm and gentle, and…
Loving.
And, in the seconds before I fell asleep, I feel sure he said something. I think, really hard, and fragments slowly return to my memory and become words.
“I sure do love you, Sadie.”
Oh my god.
This was months ago.
I sit on my sofa, the same one he helped me lug up two flights of stairs when I got it without even being asked, and bury my head in my hands. I think I really need to let myself cry it all out so I can start thinking clearly.
More and more memories come flooding back into my brain, slapping me around the face with how blind and dense I’ve been. I dismissed so many actions as him just being a friend, but now that I think about it, anyone with an ounce of common sense, anyone paying the slightest amount of attention, would have seen there was more to it.
The way he would always text me back within thirty seconds, every time I messaged him.
The time he picked up my prescription for me when I ran out of migraine meds, and added flowers and a slice of Biscoff cheesecake from my favourite cafe for when I felt better.
The way he always volunteers to be my canvas for tattoo ideas I’ve had, no matter how strange they were. A fucking walrus mandala , for Christ’s sake, etched permanently on his skin.
The way he always secured amazing tickets to the best gigs, usually the bands I liked best, and kept me safe from knocks and shoves while also giving me total freedom of movement. How often did he end up hugging me from behind, both of us so content and energised and alive?
It all takes on extra depth that I am livid with myself for never noticing before it was screamed in my face.
What have I unknowingly put him through all these years?
And can we ever truly recover from this? Have anything even resembling what we used to have? Should we? What do I want? How do I actually feel about him, without considering how he feels about me? What the hell happens now?
So many questions, so few answers.
Just heart-bruising chaos.
Leo: Can I drop by real quick
Leo: I won’t stay or talk about anything you don’t want to. I just need to know we’re OK.
Oh, Leo, I think sadly.
I’ve been climbing the walls all day, absolutely beside myself.
On the one hand, the thought of losing the amazing, life altering, foundation-of-my-life friendship I have with him is paralysing me with horror. He’s not just my boss, he’s…
More.
How much more? Because on the other hand, I can’t deny that every cell in my body rebelled when he told me he knew I didn’t feel the same way.
So I can’t honestly say there’s nothing there on my end.
Leo has been a constant, someone I emotionally rely upon more than I ever realised. But can I look myself in the mirror and say I’ve never felt a little thrill sometimes when I’ve gotten a little flirty with him? Never gone home and found that I was wetter between my legs than I knew playful banter could cause? I always wrote it off, pushed it out of my mind because I didn’t want to deal with it, but I shouldn’t have.
The trouble is, I’ve been in my own way so much over the past few years. I refused to acknowledge that things weren’t working out with Peter and never would, that I didn’t even like the pompous fucker, for far too long, just because I didn’t know who I was without him. Didn’t want all the energy and effort I’d sunk into being his partner to come to nothing, just so many years of wasted time. And I didn’t want to face that version of me, the ditched woman, dumped like garbage. Someone not good enough who would disappoint my parents yet again.
Peter didn’t make me happy. And I allowed it to continue for the most idiotic reasons. I don’t know what that says about me, but I know I don’t like it.
I do know that Leo is, and always has been, far closer to my type than Peter. In looks, in temperament, in interests, even in job . We’ve always had more to say to each other, had more fun running errands than Peter and I had during Christmases and birthdays and Valentine’s Days.
But I always distanced myself from the idea of Leo being anything more for me, both due to loyalty to my then-long term boyfriend, and out of a keen sense of self preservation. For someone who’s been eating his heart out over me for the past few years, he sure has been carving shit tons more than his fair share of notches on his bedpost. He’s got a reputation, a level of infamy , in Foxton-on-Sea as an amazing one night stand, with women queueing in line for their turn, waiting for him to notice and select them. So how deep are these feelings he has for me, really? What if I get attached and he gets bored once the novelty of getting the one person he couldn’t have wears off? It could easily happen.
I have more questions than answers at this point.
I also have a burning need to talk about this with my best friend, the one person other than Tim who I know understands me.
Tim is out tonight, and even if he wasn’t, I’m not ready for things to get as real as they do when I share them with my twin.
I thought about calling the girls, but that doesn’t scratch the itch, either.
There’s only one person I need right now.
Sadie: Meet me on the pier.
I always think clearer when I can smell the sea breeze. Seeing the ocean makes everything feel infinite, the possibilities feel endless, and I have always gained an enormous amount of comfort from that when I’ve needed it.
Leo: On my way
The pier is fairly quiet, thankfully. A few teenagers throwing chips at each other, and an elderly couple watching the swooping seagulls trying to snaffle the discarded fries away for their dinner. The clouds glow orange at the edge as the sun makes its first moves towards setting. The air smells of salt water and candy floss and cinnamon sugar, and the ragged wooden boards creak and wobble pleasantly under my feet. This pier has stood for around two centuries; it’s going to take more than a few footprints to take it down.
Leo is already there, waiting for me. His hair is just barely contained by one of the biodegradable hair ties I bought for him, and his dark clothes emphasise his pallor. At this moment I feel horribly like I’ve made him ill.
Until he turns and sees me, and he gives me a gentle, tired smile. “Hey, Pumpkin,” he murmurs.
Something tickles in the pit of my abdomen. “Hey.” I stop a few feet away from him, and we just look at each other for a long moment.
“Come on,” he whispers, holding his hand out towards me. After a second’s hesitation, I take it, the way I always have whenever he’s offered it to me. Warm and rough and comforting, even though he’s the source of my turmoil.
He leads me out of the pier, along the seafront, and up some stone steps to a wooden bench on a grass verge. I think I’ve sat here before, but I’ve never really paid much attention to it. There’s a brass plaque on the back rest: In loving memory of Lucinda Povey, beloved wife and mother. I’ll sit here and wait for you as long as it takes. All my love, Angus. A lump grows in my throat. “Lucinda was my great aunt on my dad’s side,”he sighs as we sit down. “She and Angus lived around here all their lives.”
“I’m…so sorry.”
“It’s OK. She passed years ago. Uncle Angus only had to wait eighteen months to join her. But each and every day until then, he sat here and spoke to her, like she was right next to him. Like she’d never left.” He keeps his eyes off me, looking out across the vast, grey ocean. “This is my…I guess you’d call it my place to think. Or to not think, sometimes, too.”
“That’s lovely.” This is weird. This awkwardness, this distance between us. I despise it with everything in me. I need my buddy, my confidante, my touchstone.
“Are we OK?” His voice sounds so uncertain. My heart aches.
“Of course we are,” I say in a wobbly voice.
“Because whatever else happens, I…can’t lose you. Like I said.” His eyes are glued to the horizon.
My own are prickling with the warning of tears. For the pain I can feel he’s in, and for how quiet this exuberant atom bomb of a man has become. Because of my cluelessness.
“You won’t. You…you won’t.” I make us both that promise here and now. A world without Leo is unthinkable to me, and there’s precious little I won’t do to keep him in my life, whatever that ends up looking like.
The silence lengthens. Eventually, I can’t stand it anymore. “This sucks,” I burst out. “This fucking sucks . You’re the one person I want to talk this out with, but…how do I talk about you, with you?”
Finally, he turns his head to look at me, and his eyes soften. “Hey, why don’t you?”
I frown at him. “Wh… Wait, what?”
“Yeah, come on. I’ll put my Friend Hat on, and you can spill your guts. Tell me all about the jerkweed that yelled at you about his secret love.” He gives a short chuckle at my incredulous face.
“No, I mean…how can I…”
“It’ll be fine.” He nudges me gently. “If it helps, why don’t we turn away from each other, so you don’t have to look me in the face while you talk…” He does exactly that, shifting around and showing me his back.
“You can’t be - ”
“What, are you chicken shit or something? Just give it a try, toots,” he quips, and you know what? Fuck it. It might actually help. It’s not like this doesn’t concern him, and I’m not going to say anything hurtful. I don’t know what I am going to say, but whatever it is will be honest without being brutal.
“Fine.” I turn, looking in the other direction. The pier looms out across the sea, the bright lights competing with the watercolour sunset sky. “I mean…if I can be strictly one hundred percent honest here…I’m confused. And torn. There’s… so much to consider, if we’re being serious here and this wasn’t some giant prank.” I pause, to give him a chance to respond. I know it isn’t a prank, but he’s played some pretty elaborate and near-the-knuckle practical jokes in the past. I have to give him one last chance to fess up and laugh at me for being fooled.
“Definitely not a prank. I love you. I always have.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, like he’s said nothing more remarkable than ‘water is wet’. “Jesus, Leo,” I say, breathless.
“Sorry. It’s just easier to say now that I’ve said it to you once.” I feel him shrug against my back. “It’s OK, that won’t change, no matter what happens. Or doesn’t happen. Carry on.”
I burst out with a nervous laugh, unlike any sound I’ve ever made before. “See, that’s what I mean! You’re talking about it like it’s no big deal, but…it is . Fuck, this could change everything , and not just for us - ”
“Forget everyone but you and me,” he cuts in smoothly. “We’re not sorting this out by caring a single damn what other people think. I won’t allow it.”
I’m silent for a while, torn between snapping at him for being bossy, and being a little turned on by it. Because he’s right, undeniably. This is about him and me, no-one else.
“What if it wrecks our friendship?” I ask in a small voice. “I can’t take any more heartbreak, I just can’t. And also, what if…if I broke your heart…I can’t lose you, either, Leo. You don’t know how much you mean to me. And I don’t want to hurt you, not for anything, and I still have , without meaning to. What if that’s exactly what happens, whatever I do? And then our friendship is completely obliterated - ”
“Babygirl, that’s as much of a problem as you want it to be.”
“Stop fucking interrupting me!”
He snorts. “Even when it’s common sense halting your crazies?”
“ Yes !” After a few seconds, we both burst out laughing, and it feels so good to crack up together, the way we’ve done countless times before. It’s safe, and comfortable, and familiar. And it breaks the spell.
“Seriously,” Leo says, “I’m old enough and ugly enough to handle my shit if nothing happens. Or if something does happen, and it all goes to hell. And I don’t have it in me to break your heart. You’ll always have me in your life, in any capacity you like. OK?”
It can’t be that simple. But he sounds so sure and confident that I could almost let myself believe him. Almost.
“There’s…” I sigh. How to put this? “Leo, if you meant what you said and you’ve…felt for me…since we met?”
“It took me about thirty seconds after I first saw you for me to be all in,” he confirms.
Holy shit.
“So for all that time, you’ve simultaneously been sleeping with other women and holding me up on a pedestal.” I turn my head towards him. “I don’t know what to do with either one of those facts, because each one is a lot to handle just on its own. Both of them together...” I shake my head. “It’s messing with my head.”
“I can understand that.” He considers my words, and finally takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I shook hands at their doors and left,” he admits. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have needs while I thought you would never know my true feelings. And I do have regrets. I tried to make sure they all knew the score, without spilling my guts as to why it was a one night deal only. But yeah, I made decisions that weren’t the best, or very flattering, from where you’re sitting. I own that.” He turns his head towards me, and I can smell the light, spicy scent of his aftershave, the same I always smell on the pillows when I stay at the Wishbone flat. “As for you being on a pedestal, you seem to be forgetting that I’ve seen you at your best and your worst. You puked in my best car. You’ve yelled at me like a demented fishwife more times than I can count. You farted on me when you were sat in my lap that time - ”
I swat him behind me. “That was because of your fucking awful enchiladas, and we were never going to mention that again, remember?!”
“Again with the shouting,” he says wryly. I groan, and he laughs. I like the sound of his laughter, even when it’s attached to one of my most embarrassing memories. It makes the cringe factor worth suffering through. “As I was saying, you haven’t been all sunshine and roses. Well, unless the rose was covered in a shit ton of thorns.” He nudges me playfully. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way. I wouldn’t trade any of our worst moments for anything in this world.”
I can’t really speak. I mean…what could I possibly say to that? It’s everything I could want and need from him.
“So there’s only one question that remains,” he says softly. “Do you feel anything for me beyond friendship?”
And there it is. The heart of the issue.
“I don’t feel nothing,” I say, so quiet I almost mouth it. I need to tread very carefully here. “I don’t know how far that goes, though. And I don’t want to lead you on or do anything to screw you over.”
“But you don’t feel nothing,” he says, his voice low and yet still glowing.
“Sorry for the double negative, but that’s the most accurate way to put it.” I shrug, fidgeting with my rings, twisting them this way and that.
He turns around. I don’t. A tingle runs down my spine. I can feel him looking at me.
“May I try something?” he murmurs. I nod, not trusting my voice. After a few seconds, I feel his warm breath where my shoulder meets my neck. His beard tickles my skin before his mouth gently brushes me, hot and soft, making me tremble. I feel his tongue take a tiny taste before his lips withdraw. My eyes close, and my skin is set alight where he kissed it.
“How did that feel?” he whispers.
I don’t want to say anything. My mind goes completely blank. All I want is more of that feeling. It’s like a door has been opened and light is pouring out, engulfing me in warmth and peace. I lean back against him, turning my face closer to his. His mouth is so close to mine…
And he turns away.
Oh, god. Just one kiss on the shoulder and he’s done with me? Do I smell bad or something?
“I think you need space to think on this some more.” He’s back to looking across the sea, avoiding my gaze.
Bollocking hell.
He’s right. But also…my heart sank when he pulled back, and my instincts told me I wanted more. And, having been denied that, it’s made the desire for it to happen a lot sharper now.
Which has given me plenty to think about.
Sadie: I’m so sorry about ditching your wedding [sad face emoji] And your post-wedding brunch [three sad face emojis] You know I love you, right?
Emily: Don’t worry about it. How are things…? [big smile emoji]
Sadie: Confusing. I don’t want to talk about it.
Emily: That’s OK. Want me to drop by with Pringles?
Sadie: Thanks but no. Just need some alone time. ILY.
Emily: ILY2, here for you whenever you need xx