Page 20 of The Love of Our Lives
‘The psychopath who was running after you across the street this morning.’
I can’t help smiling as I think of him at the lights, that wave he gave me.
‘Sorry about that, I’ve been having a bit of a . . . weird time recently.’
I feel him glance at me, a curious look on his face.
‘Yeah, I was wondering if I should check on you after yesterday. You didn’t seem quite yourself.’
Yourself.
What even is that right now?
‘So, what do you make at your workshop?’ I say, more because I don’t know what else to say and it seems like something people would ask on a date.
I just really hope Emily hasn’t asked this before.
‘Furniture . . . well, I upholster it really, upcycle too. It’s not as technical as actually making the furniture itself, I realise, but I’m more into taking something old and making it new.’
‘Giving it a new lease of life,’ I offer.
‘Exactly.’
He smiles at me, and heat rises up my neck.
‘What about you?’ he says. ‘Have you looked into that course yet?’
Course? I can’t remember seeing anything about a course.
‘Not yet,’ I say carefully.
‘Well, no time like the present,’ he says, as we wander along a walkway.
I’m still trying to work out what he’s talking about, when glittering lights appear ahead of us, tents rising up into the sky, and the hum of people. The Edinburgh Fringe. I haven’t been in years, not since that one time Cat dragged me along in our teens. But I’ve always dreamed of going back; read about all the shows online and wished I could see every last one of them. Now I find myself following Adam through one of the entrances to a beer garden. Wooden benches are already filling up across fake grass, while multi-coloured Chinese lanterns bob lightly in the breeze above. Leafy garlands are strung up around the sides, little lights already twinkling out at us, and the most incredible smell rushes towards me, rich and wood-smoked.
‘What is that?’ I say, gazing around in wonder.
Adam turns, his eyes lit up. ‘Didn’t I say I had a great place in mind for dinner?’
I look around at the empty picnic tables in confusion. ‘Where?’
‘There.’ He points across at a food van sitting to one side. ‘I give you the world’s best pizza and pint van. Hey Sven.’ Adam walks up to the guy working inside it.
A very tall man with dark-brown skin and a closely cropped afro immediately looks up and grins. He stops chopping something and comes out the back of the van. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and a red apron with ‘The Scandi Pizza Man’ on the front, and with his smiley eyes and slightly sticky out ears, he’s anendearingly good-looking guy. He walks straight up to Adam and gives him a hug, before stepping back.
‘I didn’t know you were coming down tonight,’ Sven says, before glancing at me, one eyebrow arched. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘Emily, this is Sven; Sven, meet Emily.’
‘Ah, the pretty girl across the hall,’ Sven says, his face lighting up. ‘So, he finally plucked up the courage to ask you out.’
Adam glances at me, a smile playing on his lips. Heat rushes up my neck again.
God, this is awkward.
‘Charlie not about tonight?’ Adam says now to Sven.
‘Oh, she is,’ Sven says, ‘but she’s actually performing this evening.’
