This is a Love Story (15 page)

‘Fancy sharing a cigar outside?’ he asked as we stood in the hallway, pulling on a dark brown padded jacket with a green stripe detail on the arms as if I had already said yes. It was one of those trendy jackets you see on London men who prefer to use oversized cans rather than inner-ear headphones, read the
Independent
and keep their brightly coloured trainers dangerously clean. He had that look about him. It drove me crazy.

He found a jacket for me too, a big black Helly Hansen number that was several sizes too big and made me look as if I was ready for a ski trip. The smell of his aftershave washed over me as I zipped it up. I could barely contain my urge to just hold his face and kiss him, right there in the hallway.

Nick made two rum and Cokes in the kitchen on our way out, and selected a big fat cigar from a selection of five in his cupboard near the back door. He also grabbed a towel and laid it down on the decking outside. The air was so cold I had to zip the coat further up my neck, but the alcohol provided an additional layer of protection.

We sat down and Nick lit the cigar, the strong smell spreading all around us. The moon was so bright it was as if someone had left one of those economy light bulbs on, making everything look like the set of a vampire movie.

I started to tremble a little, shuffling my bum along the towel so I could have a little of his heat. Being this close to him was so torturous I could have cried, but at the same time I was happy. It was bittersweet.

Nick put his arm around me and squeezed as he started puffing out the smoke in little circles. They got wider and softer as they drifted off into the freezing night air. He looked like he was deep in thought. Distracted. Far away. I asked him to share the cigar, pulling it away from his fingers before he had the chance to reply. I knew this was cheeky, but I was nervous. Deep down, I knew that if we didn’t get it together tonight, while the moon was full and the stars were glittering, we probably never would.

There was more silence, so I asked him if he was all right, turning towards him so our noses were almost touching. I felt the heat of his breath against my lips and stared into his eyes. I could kiss him. I really could. Right. Now. Well, go on then, I thought. Do it . . .

But it was too late, and he broke the quiet by saying: ‘Yeah, I’m fine, dude, just chilling out.’

Dude?
The moment was gone and he called me dude. Damn.

I asked him if there was anyone in his life at the moment, hoping we could get on to the subject that way, my breath creating puffs of whiteness against the crisp air.

‘Yeah, I guess so . . .’ he replied, squinting slightly to stop the smoke going in his eyes.

Oh dear. I bet there was someone I didn’t know about. Maybe he was right on the verge of being in a relationship.

‘Who is it, Nick?’ I asked, desperate to be put out of my misery. I hoped it hadn’t shown. He started talking about Kate. I had vaguely heard her name once or twice. I think he met her on some night out in Brixton back when things were funny with us after that argument, but he’d described her as a ‘tortured soul’ when her name had come up in previous conversations. Tortured soul. This didn’t sound like something he should have to contend with.

I asked him quietly if it felt wrong to be with her, and pulled his coat over my knees. Now we were talking about another woman, the cold seemed to seep into my bones.

‘No, I don’t think so. I think I like the idea of her, but the reality is too much to handle. She isn’t my girlfriend, obviously . . . but she’s almost made herself that by default. I feel like the choice isn’t mine.’

I was surprised to hear him talking so honestly to me about this. For some reason we’d always kind of skirted around the details of our relationships. I’d always assumed it was because Nick was private about these things. And for my part it was because I wanted him to know that I was available if he ever felt the same. That’s bad, isn’t it?

Suddenly I was worried he’d picked up on my feelings for him. I started backpedalling to protect myself and said things to push him closer to Kate, in the desperate, secret hope that he would just say: ‘There is someone else – it’s you.’ I felt instant guilt. This Kate girl, whoever she was, could have been perfectly lovely. Why was I wishing ill of their relationship? It was hideous and not like me at all.

I found myself spouting yet more bullshit as I then said, ‘I think you should try harder, Nick. I think she might need you. Sometimes, people need you and it’s so scary you push it away when actually you want it to be closer.’

Ironic wasn’t it? I’d hoped this would be our moment, yet here we were, talking about someone else . . .

Nick

The appley scent of her hair instantly crept up my nostrils again. It was so damn sexy. I held my breath as she lay on the mattress next to me. One . . . Two . . . Three . . . Four . . . My lungs felt as if they were about to burst. I have always been terrible at holding my breath since I was forced to go on a school swimming trip and was pushed under the water by itchy Luke (don’t ask about the nickname). Now every time an attack of the hiccups arrives I see his angry little face in front of mine just before he slammed my head into the drink and nearly killed me. Associated trauma, I think they call it.

I exhaled slowly and quietly as she turned her body towards mine, and once more I could feel the heat of her just like I had in the garden. My heart was now thumping so fast in my chest it was making me feel sick. I could smell the cigar we’d smoked on my pillow and felt decidedly ill. The cider and Chinese takeaway were sitting uncomfortably in my stomach. Oh God. Why did her mere presence make me feel like I was going to fall apart? And what the hell was she doing?

I worked hard at a fake roll so I could turn away from her, pulling the duvet under my torso in a selfish manner so she really would think I was asleep. Her body moved away from me once again. I was not entirely sure how playing dead would help me in this situation but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

Yes, running away from it all was definitely better than facing it head-on. I had chosen this option so many times before and it had worked just fine for me. Unfortunately, however, my senses were so heightened by adrenalin that I was about a million miles away from any kind of sleep-like state. My eyes were out on stalks and the hairs on my arms and legs were standing on end. From the sound of Sienna’s breathing, which was also pretty speedy, I guessed she was now lying on her back. She sounded stressed too.

Think about something else, Nick. Come on, anything . . . Penny sweets, elastic bands, fax machines . . . Sienna, beautiful Sienna . . . Broken toasters, instruction manuals, ferrets . . . But Sienna’s here . . . Cam belts, WD40, baked goods . . . Your Sienna . . .

Damn it. It obviously wasn’t working, so I let my mind wander to the place it wanted to go. I wondered what it might feel like to be brave. You know, to not be me. I knew I could never take advantage of her, but if I had some balls rather than the raisins they had been replaced with this evening, maybe I could turn around and pull her close to me with my right arm. Yes, that would be lovely. I could wrap my arm around her tiny waist and pull her across the sheets until her nose was touching mine.

And maybe, in my dream-like scenario, she wouldn’t shriek, ‘Urgh, Nick! What the fuck are you doing?’ and whack me around the head with her sock, but just stay quiet and let her lips rest on mine.

Because this had been brewing for so long, neither of us would take the plunge with the kiss straight away; we would just lie there first, seeing how it felt. Maybe a few minutes would pass, and I’d be able to feel her breath on my face. I would take in every second like it was the real meaning of life, these moments that make the world go round. Then, maybe, if I was really lucky, she would kiss my bottom lip and tell me she loved me too and always had . . .

The scenario was so dream-like it was making me ache from the depths of my soul. It actually hurt. This was definitely love. Without a doubt. This was what those poets were talking about in the old-school literature that used to make me cringe when I was spotty, fourteen and fantasising about Miss Rogers in my English literature classes. This was it. It was pulse-racing, heart-wrenching, dizzying love. The kind that touches every one of your nerve endings and renders you almost insane. The kind I could not give into easily because it already hurt like hell before lift-off.

The reality of this situation was that the love of my life was lying on her back, in my bed, at 3.30 a.m., and I was pretending to be asleep. What a hero I was. Come on out, Spider-Man. Where the hell are you now? Huh?

The darkness enveloped every corner of the room. My eyes scanned the space in front of me but it was as if a black ribbon had been tied around them. There was nothing but inky depth.

Then, suddenly, it happened. I felt a soft hand move under the sheets and snake round my waist. Not a dream, Nick, not a dream. This was definitely happening. My stomach muscles immediately tensed up so they felt like a row of seaside rocks. Well, that made it pretty obvious I was awake, didn’t it?

I tried to relax my torso but it just wouldn’t calm down, then I figured the permanently taut feel would do me no harm so I should just roll with it. I wondered what she was doing. She
must
have been sleepwalking . . . Then, using my stomach to grip on to, she pulled her body behind me and pushed her legs under mine. Wow.

We were Mr and Mrs Spoon, cuddling in the cutlery drawer. This was it. More than a year after meeting, she had finally broken the ice. Did she know what she was doing? But I didn’t want to ruin it, so I stayed dead still. Holding her hand or trying to kiss her might have been too much at this stage.

Her lips touched the back of my neck ever so slightly and it set my heart on fire.

Calm. Peace. Quiet. A loud sigh rushed from her lungs as she finally dropped off, her legs twitching just like mine do.

I didn’t sleep a wink. It felt like all my birthdays had come at once.

I imagined who I would tell first. Ross? Yes, it had to be him. He deserved a medal after putting up with all my pining and whinging. I could call him casually and tell him how Sienna and I had finally sorted things out, like I’d always known it was going to happen. He would probably take the piss, but he’d be happy for me.

I could call my mum and she might finally believe that I’m not gay (she’d been starting to express concern since Amelia and I had split up and I’d brought no one resembling a serious female partner to our uptight family parties).

The reception girls would love it too. They’ve been teasing me for ages.

Wow. Sienna, my girlfriend. Christmas drinks, executive gatherings, bar mitzvahs, whatever. Me and Sienna against the world. Joint bank accounts. Egyptian cotton. A Tesco Clubcard . . . My beautiful, wonderful girl.

Those three and a half hours in bed while Sienna’s arm was curled around my body were possibly some of the happiest I have ever experienced. There was that time I got to ride a camel in Africa, and my first big promotion – oh, and not forgetting my three-and-a-half-hour marathon (now that was a cracker) . . . But none of them beat this.

She couldn’t be asleep, you don’t just cuddle people in your sleep. This was for real.

The sun was rising slowly behind my curtains and I stayed dead still, excited about what she might say when she woke up. It could go something like this: ‘Morning, Nick, I hope you don’t mind me doing this . . . I’ve just wanted to tell you for so long . . .’ or even: ‘Don’t speak, Nick, just kiss me . . .’ Yes, I quite liked the sound of the second. Let’s go for the second. I knew this would work out. I just always had a feeling in my gut that we would sort this out. All along.

Then, at around 6.55 a.m. she turned around in her sleep. Bugger.

Now that her arm was away from my body, the little strip of skin that it had covered felt cold and, well, naked. I mean it was naked, but properly now. I had lost her. That’s fine, I thought. She would wake up soon and we could talk, and I could tell her how long I had loved her, and all the silly things I’d said and done and why. Like the time I said she reminded me of my sister. I would definitely be explaining that first.

At 7.10 the alarm went on her phone, piercing the gloriousness of the early morning calm and the start of our new life.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed, the duvet wrapped around her chest as if she was naked. She wasn’t. Her fringe was poking up in the air in a variety of strange angles and she had a line on her face from the seam of the pillowcase. She dived to the side of the bed and scrabbled around for her phone, silencing it with what sounded like an angry fist. I jumped.

‘Damn, Nick, sorry. I don’t know why I got into your bed. My head hurts. Shit, bollocks!’ she exclaimed again. A tirade of swear words and regret.
Her cheeks were red.

I rolled over to face her, not sure I was really hearing this and suddenly very aware that I was only wearing my boxer shorts and the glory of the morning meant there was an erection that resembled a chequered tent in the southern part of camp pants. This was a nightmare.

This situation was becoming a never-ending, heartbreaking saga, and I wasn’t sure if I could take it for much longer. It was push and pull, give and take, yin and yang, but all messed up. I felt like I’d been pulled from the top of a very high horse in Happyland and fallen into a pile of dog turd, face down. In fact, some of it had gone in my mouth. I was sure of it.

‘Nick, please forgive me for getting into your bed. I work with you, for God’s sake. I think I had a bit too much to drink, it makes me sleepwalk sometimes,’ she said, pulling at my arm guiltily.

I yanked it back, a little irritated by now but trying really hard not to show it. ‘Er, Si, I didn’t even know you were here,’ I bullshitted, even though I felt sure she must be able to hear the broken shards of my heart tinkling onto the floor. ‘Anyway, it was really cold last night so it’s cool,’ I added, suddenly withdrawing my body to the other side of the bed and pulling on a pair of trousers, trying to hide my boner.