Page 26 of Love at First Sight

Leo laughs. ‘I suspect not, no,’ he says. ‘Okay, cool. Maybe I’ll do smart trousers and a summer shirt? Like a patterned one? A fun one?’

‘You have promised me fun,’ I say, and Leo grins.

‘Club Tropicana cosplay it is then,’ he says. He looks at Cal. ‘Nice to meet you, man. Jessie, see you tomorrow, beautiful.’

Cal and I watch Leo saunter away and don’t speak. But Cal has won. I’ll listen to what he has to say, if I must. We wait, until Leo has turned the corner, and I’m shaking my head like I can’t believe him, can’t believe Cal. I think what I’d like is an apology, and to move on. This has already taken up way too much of my energy – and look! Leo! Lovely, uncomplicated Leo! I don’t know what I was thinking back there, yelling at Cal in the street. I’m calmer, now, able to inhale and exhale without breathing fire. I turn and wait for him to speak.

‘Question,’ Cal says, when a full minute’s silence proves I won’t be the one to break first. I arch an eyebrow as if to saygo ahead.He continues: ‘How on earth can you be mad atme? You’re dating somebody else too. That guy is obviously obsessed with you! And you just flirted right in front of my face! I don’t think I’m the only bad guy here.’

I shake my head, like I must be hearing things.

‘Sorry, what?’ I say. I’m blinking frantically, an involuntary response to his madness. ‘You! You’re the coward, you’re the liar! Don’t you dare come for me! No. Not today, Satan.’

‘So I’m a piece of shit for what happened the other weekend, but you’re not?’

‘Oh, grow up,’ I say. ‘You can’t even getyourgirlfriend to call you by the right name. Piss off. I don’t have time for this.’

I wave a hand and go to step out across the street, and in a blur of motion the red of a double-decker bus just about skims the tip off my nose as Cal screams, ‘Fuck’ssake!’ and grabs me with two hands, pulling me backwards so that I stumble, dazed, into an approximation of a hug. We stand, and I’m panting, because holy shit – I think this man just saved my life.

‘You could have been killed!’ Cal says, spinning me around to look at me. He’s breathing hard, too. I just stare at him and blink. That bus was soooo close to hitting me. Wow.

I look at Cal. He looks at me.

My heart is racing like I’ve sprinted up Everest. How is this man the same man who was so kind to me that day at Tough Mudder, let alone the man I went to a random afternoon show with, walked by the river beside, danced with as a violin played softly against the dying sunlight?

I let my eyes roam his stubbled face, his shaggy hair, his rosy cheeks that look as flushed as mine feel. He’s still holding me by the elbows, his grip firm and strong. He looks … sad, I suppose. Regretful.

My exhale comes out robustly. The fight has left me. I can’t do this. In fact, there is no ‘this’. There can’t be. But dear lord, my heart. She skips a beat to let me know it might not be that straightforward. The heat of his hand burns; my own skin feels like it might vibrate right off me. The air between us is charged, full of so much. I let myself look at him one last time, and hate that my eyes dart down to his lips. Full and perfect, he parts them slightly, like he might kiss me. I wince as the thought of it makes my tummy lurch.

‘I’m going to be late for Henry,’ I say, snapping myselfout of whatever moment this is. I step back, away from his embrace. He lets me. ‘Goodbye, Calvin.’

Cal doesn’t say anything back. He simply watches me go. I’m shaking at the effort it takes to say goodbye, but to hell with him if he thinks I’m going to look back.

10

Henry isn’t himself at pick-up – he’s not chatty and doesn’t throw his arms around me like he usually does. Of course, I’m a horrible self-obsessed arsehole who immediately thinks somehow Henry knows I’ve just been having fleeting thoughts about what it would be like to kiss his mother’s boyfriend. But when he doesn’t even ask for his snack, I pull myself together and realise that this isn’t about me. I put my palm to his forehead to check for a temperature, but he seems fine.

‘Everything okay, buddy?’ I ask, once we’re away from the school gates. ‘I’m really curious about how quiet you are. Can you tell me why?’

Henry shrugs and avoids my eye.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Do you mind if I do the talking?’

He shrugs again.

‘I just want to say that, when I feel sad, I like to tell somebody in case they can help me with it. It helps to talk. No feelings last forever. If you feel sad now, just know that you won’t always feel sad. But whilst you do feel this way, if you want to have quiet time, we can. I’m right here, ready for whatever you need, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Henry says, gently.

At home he slinks off to his room, and when I mention my concern to Ali, she says, ‘Maybe it’s because I’m going away soon? I’ll talk to him tonight. Two weeks is a long time to a seven-year-old, even if he is coming to set to visit.’

‘Okay,’ I say, following her lead. If she isn’t worried, maybe I shouldn’t be. ‘Bless his little heart.’

‘I know,’ Ali agrees, pulling a ‘pouty face’. ‘Big feelings in a little body. Can you prep his dinner? I’ll go up and check on him.’

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Go be with your boy.’

The whole time I’m talking to her, making food in her house and drinking her tea and worrying about Henry, I feel so two-faced I’m like a double-sided coin. I wear guilt like a shawl, draped in it.

---