Page 13 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

Going to the cinema is probably the thing we’ve enjoyed doing most together. I like being around him; we usually have a good time.

We grab lunch with his family often enough, and we’re usually around each other at church events or outings. We have things in common, and he’s always very charming. It’s the thing that’s intrigued me most about him.

But recently, I’ve had too many conversations with my best friend and my mom about how Ilikehim but I don’tlovehim.

My best friend Chantelle (a.k.a. Chants—pronouncedshaunts) lives down in Bournemouth. We’re basically sisters, even though we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I wish I could’ve stolen her clothes growing up, but we still had the “talk about boys/sleepover” sister dynamic. We’re not blood-related, but that’s never mattered.

She came up to London last Saturday, the day after I watchedGhostbusters.

We had an absolute blast—shopping down at Westfield Stratford, grabbing tea at this hidden gem called God’s Own Junkyard. The whole place is unreal. Every inch is covered in neon signs. It's mesmerizing. And bonus: it's a café too, so you get to bathe in the lights as you sip your tea.

“So, tell me more about Joel,” she said, pouring milk into her tea. “You’ve hardly spilled a thing.”

“He’s a nice guy,” I said with a shrug. “It’s only been a few months, really. But he’s the opposite of all of the other guys I’ve dated. He’s different to my usual type.”

“In a good way, right?” She grinned. “I mean, your type is basically a guy out of a Hollister catalog, so generally they’re set in the looks department. But all of the guys you’ve dated so far were total cheese wads.”

“Cheese wads?” I laughed, nearly choking onmy tea. She always comes up with the best sayings—it’s impossible not to howl in laughter when I’m around her.

“Cheese wads,” she repeated proudly. “But seriously—those guys never saw your worth. Please tell me Joel is a good kind of different.”

“I’m still figuring that out,” I said slowly. “He’s a good guy—don’t get me wrong. Super charming. But… I’m not in love with him. My heart doesn’t exactly leap when I see him.”

She pressed a hand to my forehead, and I arched a brow.

“I’m just checking you’re not sick.” She laughed. “You’re an all-in kind of girl.”

“I know,” I sighed. “That’s what’s got me worried. But I’m holding out. Maybe it’s just a slow burn… something that’ll build over time.”

“Okay, we’ll table this for now,” she said, cutting into her scone. “But youbutterbelieve I’m bringing it up again soon,” she continued as she knifed the butter. I giggled.

We thankfully left the conversation there—probably because I didn’t give her enough details to worry.

And as much as I don’t want to think about what’s not right, there’s something that’s been eating at me. Things have been feeling off between Joel and me. There’s an undercurrent I can't name. He doesn’t pay much attention to me—or to the little things about me. It’s not like he’s stopped being nice. It’s just... like an invisible mess I keep sweeping under the rug. Neither of us is head over heels, and my indecision feels heavier than it should, but I shove it away. Out of sight. Out of mind. Like the mess.

Maybe it’s time to clean up both.

Now, with him away in California, the doubts are flaring even louder. He’s there for a few weeks, and half the time, I don’t even know what he’s doing. I text him, and it takes hours to hear back.

Me: So, what’s it like out there? What have you been up to?

(Hours later)

Joel: I’m loving the sunshine. Been hanging out with some of the guys I’ve met out here.

Me: The Cali sunshine must be amazing. Where have you guys been hitting up?

Joel: A few bars, a few restaurants.

And… that was it. No follow-up. No “goodnight.” He barely even says that anymore.

I keep blaming it on the time difference, but deep down? I don’t think that’s the problem.

Something feels off between us—like a distance neither of us is naming. And for some reason, my insecurities feel louder than ever.

I'm sitting at the DLR station (the Docklands Light Railway—basically part of the London Underground system), pondering all of this as I wait for my train. I’m heading home from university, DSLR camera by my side—I brought it with me today to get some shots.

Photography’s been my thing since I was fifteen. I’ve loved it as a hobby, but what I really love is making Youtube videos. I came to university to study music, hoping to learn how to produce my own songs so I can make more Youtube covers—so I like having it with me in case I need new photos or videos.

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