Page 39 of The Love of Our Lives
‘I took the liberty of taking these up for the poor guy who was trying to access the building,’ he says. ‘Oh, and there were these too,’ he says, passing me a fancy bouquet of flowers. There’s no card on it, oddly, though maybe they’re from Fran too. All the same, my heart is fluttering.
‘But my main question is,’ Adam continues, ‘how did I not know it was your birthday?’
He’s smiling, but there’s confusion too.
‘Oh,’ I say, batting it off, ‘I’m just not huge on celebrating it.’
He tips his head up like I’ve said something mental, then looks back down at me. ‘We need to do something for it. Dinner at my place tonight? And I promise I won’t do that raw chicken thing again.’
I laugh, recalling how a failed dinner had ended up with us in the little pub along the road for a live music night with Sven and Charlie instead, staying with them until close. And I remember feeling in that moment that somehow, despite the setbacks, I was kind of getting in the sway of this life thing.
I smile across at him, still clutching the mystery flowers in my hand. ‘I’d love that.’
Later that evening, I stand in front of the mirror and survey the outfit I chose for this evening from Mum’s charity shop – a fitted blue dress with little sparkles across the front. I keep dropping in every now and then; keep running past Jess and the boys in the park on Wednesdays too, but there’s just something particularly special about actually chatting to Mum, about letting her know everything that I’m up to, without her telling me it might beunsafe or running to call the doctor. I get to see what a normal relationship between us might look like, and I pick out clothes while I’m there too. She set this particular dress aside for me when it came in, and it hugs my body in all the right places, stopping just above my knees. My mane of dark hair is held back gently with a glittery head band, and I’ve lightly applied make-up below.
A burst of nerves shoots through me, because there’s just something about tonight, about Adam’s suggestion of dinner, and the soft look in his eyes, that gives me a thrill in my chest. And even though I know we’re only supposed to be friends, and I don’t want to hurt anyone here, I can feel something insistent pulling at me, begging me to let go.
Just for a little while.
Could I?
Before I can answer my own question, there’s a knock on the door and my heart skips as I open it. Adam is on the other side, wearing his plaid shirt, a tweed jacket on top, which I suspect hasn’t been out in a while from how stiffly he’s holding himself.
But that awed expression on his face when he sees me.
My stomach somersaults.
‘You look incredible,’ he says, in this nervous way I’ve never seen on him before.
‘Thank you, I’ll just put on the shoes,’ I say, stepping nervously into a pair of silver heels. I feel giddy suddenly, like pure serotonin is running through me and it might make me topple over at any second.
‘Take your camera, and a warm coat too,’ he adds. ‘It might be a little nippy where we’re going.’
‘Why are you always trying to take me up high?’ I joke, but I’m intrigued. Darting back to the bedroom, I pick up my camera with excitement, and head back to the door. Pulling a creamwool coat on, I catch him watching me again, and take a breath in.
A clicking noise across the hall makes us both jump. Someone coming out of Adam’s apartment. ‘Who is . . .’ I start, just as Sven comes into sight. He gives Adam a double thumbs up, then both of us a mischievous smile. ‘Bye, guys; enjoy.’
Before I can say anything, he disappears away down the steps, and I look to Adam, who gives nothing away. ‘Come with me,’ he says, and takes my hand as we walk back across the hall to his. It feels odd, because I’ve never actually held his hand before, warm and rough against my own. A twinge of something starts low in my belly; seeps up through me like hot cocoa.
At the door, he drops my hand again to open it (much to my disappointment), but inside, I’m surprised to see that his usually plain hallway is lined with candles all the way to the cupboard at the back.
‘This isn’t it, by the way,’ he says, a hint of a smile in his voice. ‘I didn’t just take you for dinner in my hallway, I promise.’
I find myself grinning as he takes my hand again, and this time he pauses for a moment, his eyes lingering on mine in the darkness. My breath quickens and the energy between us is palpable.
‘Just over here,’ he says, and to my confusion, he walks towards the cupboard. Opening the door, a rush of air hits me as I see what appears to be a stone staircase leading up to the pitch-black sky above.
‘What the—’ I breathe.
‘Just a little perk of living on my side of the top floor,’ he says, and leads me up the steps. My heels ring out into the late October air, my breath coming out in soft wisps.
At the top, we step out on to what feels like the top of the world. The tumbling rooftops of Edinburgh lie below, while the castle above is lit up blue against the cold, night sky. But right in frontof me is the warmest sight I’ve ever seen. A small table has been set with covered plates, a vase of evergreens and a chilled bottle of champagne at its centre. Two chairs sit on either side, a plump velvet cushion and soft blankets on each one, and beside the table, an outdoor heater glows warm. Around it all, ropes of fairy lights have been strung through the iron railings, which enclose the area.
‘But how on earth did you do this?’ I say, still amazed.
‘Sven and Charlie,’ he says, then turns to me. ‘I know it’s not a fancy restaurant, so if you’d prefer to do that then we can—’
‘It’s perfect,’ I say, cutting through his words. ‘I just can’t believe you’ve done all this for me.’
