Page 39 of Crocodile Tears

“Sounds shitty.” She raised the cigarette, and he gazed, fascinated, as her painted red lips closed around it.

“Let’s shut up about me,” he said. “I’m boring. Tell me why I haven’t seen you around before tonight.”

“I just arrived – a bit late, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here, or what I wanted to study. My godfather had to talk me into it.”

“Godfather? What happened to the Dutch mum and African dad?”

“Both dead,” she said, in a matter-of-fact way. “Duck accident, six months ago.”

He felt an instant spark of connection – now her cool, offhand manner made sense.

“Do you ever feel like you’re watching a movie of your own life, rather than being in it?” he asked. “Like nothing really matters after something big and bad like that? Everyone wants you to worry about your education, and love life, and your friends try to get you to care about all the gossip, like who’s fucking who… but you don’t really give a shit, because it’s all meaningless, and you can’t feel a thing, inside?”

“Yes! Oh, God, yes.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “My godfather is a good man, so I said I’d give Oxford a try. I’m only here for a few days to scope out somewhere to live and get sorted for next term, if I come back.”

“I hope you do.” He put his arm around her and squeezed.

She smiled. “I think I will, and… look, I have croc. My godfather gives me tons of money, and I like how croc takes the edge off all the shitty stuff, too. So next time, don’t suck off some wanker in an alley – come to me.”

“Okay. I will.” He felt his ennui ease a little from having met her. “What subject are you reading?”

“Art,” she said, and he had to fight down the wave of envy. “You?”

“Business. I wish I was reading art and design – if Mum was still alive I would be, but Dad says I need to understand business if I’m going to take over Lytton AV one day.”

“Is that what you want?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s the family business, and I like ducks. I’d rather be designing them than running the company, but…” He shrugged again. “I often attend art lectures anyway, and if I’m smart about it, I can even blag my way into some seminars.”

“Always the bad boy, huh?” She grinned.

“Yeah, that’s me. Now, it’s late, and I gotta get back.” He slid off the wall.

“I suppose I’ll go home as well, then,” she said, holding out her arms so he could help her jump down.

“Can I walk you? There are a few weirdos lurking in the shadows tonight; I’d like to make sure you’re safe.”

“Aw, you’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” She giggled. “I didn’t know there were any of those left these days. Better not let anyone see, or your image will be ruined.”

“Hah – they’ll just assume I’m taking you home so I can have my wicked way with you.” He twirled an imaginary moustache, and she giggled again. “I’m not,” he added firmly. “But I would like to see you after the holidays, if that’s okay?”

“I’d like that.” She slipped her hand into his, and he liked how it felt, as if he was a normal boy walking his girl home.

They reached her lodgings, and he said goodbye and was about to walk away when she pulled him back, took hold of his face, and kissed him sweetly on the lips. Leaning in, he revelled in the softness of her skin and the scent of her perfume. After several weeks kissing Neil, it made a welcome change.

“Until the new year,” she promised when she finally let him go.

He hunched his shoulders. “Solange, I have to be honest. I really like you, and I want to see you again, but I meant it when I said I can’t feel anything. I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

Reaching out, she touched his cheek, her fingers deliciously warm on his cold skin. “You know, you’re not what I expected,” she said softly. “The press make out that you’re an arrogant, spoilt shit, but I think you’re just sad.”

He caught her hand and removed it from his cheek. “No. Don’t. Iama shit, Solange. Don’t romanticise me and please don’t fall in love with me. People do, all the time, and it’s not really me they’re falling in love with – it’s the whole backstory and drama that comes with me.”

“I won’t, then,” she said. “We can be friends, and we can take croc together, and maybe we can even sleep together, if you like.” She winked. “But I promise you that I won’t ever fall in love with you.”

“Good, because I’d never want to hurt you.” Leaning down, he captured her lips in another sweet kiss and then turned and left.

It was gone midnight by the time he returned home, but Neil was still up, sitting at the kitchen table in front of his nanopad, tapping away studiously. He was wearing a pair of green pyjamas and a brown dressing gown. Remembering Bax’s “beige boy” comment, Alex bit back a grin.

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