Page 9 of Away With You
Rolling my own eyes (not judgey, mostly panicky), I fasten the last button of my jacket. It’s long and ugly, but as warm as if I were wearing a sleeping bag. She’s already vetoed me wearing a beanie (“a crime to hide all that beautiful hair”), so I’m not forgoing any more of my comfort for the sake of looking good.
“Wish me luck,” I say, checking I’ve got my phone and keys and that my Oyster card is tucked in my wallet. I could walk to the Clapham Pub, where Nathan is meeting me, but my feet in these boots and the curls in my hair wouldn’t survive the trek.
Jade sinks onto my couch, scooping up a grumpy-looking Nuke onto her lap. “I’ll be right here waiting for a full report when you get back.”
I spare one last glance to where she and my cat are cozying up together, and kinda wish I was spending the afternoon with them. It seems a more comfortable way to spend it, if not much less exciting.
“Bye.”
Neither feline nor friend pay me any more attention, so I quit stalling and make my way out of the building and towards the tube station. Once there, I get on the next train and stand near the door for the three minutes it takes to get to the Clapham Common station. A three-minute train ride that would have taken me twenty minutes on foot.
No, thank you.
As I walk out of the station, the sky has lost all of its blue and is now a charcoal colour, readying itself for the next fourteen hours without sun. I pull in some deep breaths, so deep I fear hyperoxia, and will myself to settle down. It’s just coffee, and it’s just Nathan. It’s just coffee with Nathan.
No. Big. Deal.
I walk into the toasty oven of the Clapham Pub and spot him immediately. He’s positioned himself in a dark corner towards the back—away from the bulk of the crowd and I guess any prying eyes—but facing the door so he can see me the minute I enter.
As in, right now.
“Hey!” he mouths, waving me over, a bright smile on his face.
I make my way over to him, hoping not to trip or spill anything along the way. I’d say it’s his effect on me, making me clumsy and awkward in my skin, but in reality, it’s how I live my life.
“Hey, Nathan.” I stop in front of him and take a microsecond just to stare. Like yesterday, he’s in casual jeans and a jumper—navy blue this time to bring out the blue hues in his eyes, with his delicious peacoat draped over the chair behind him. His hair ismessier than yesterday, like the wind had taken it for a ride, and his cheeks are a tad rosier, and altogether he looks hotter than hell.
“Kitty Kat,” he says, like he’s delighted to see me, his eyes taking inventory of me just as mine are of him. “Do you have an army of people hiding under that jacket?”
I flush, my fingers fumbling with the buttons, cursing Jade for not talking me out of wearing this thing. It’s big and bulky and makes me look like the Michelin Man. Or like I’m the size of an army of people, apparently.
“Shut up. It’s cold,” I say, slinging the offending outerwear over my chair and turning back to face him. The amusement on his face fades, replaced by something more serious as his gaze travels down my body and up again.
I sit down and focus on anything but him.
“Nathan? Have you ordered, yet?” I tilt my head to where a server is hovering near our table. Her eyes are on Nathan, a dazed expression on her face similar to the one he’s also wearing.
He shakes his head slightly and blinks. “Uh, no. I was waiting for you.”
“Great, well, I’ll get a hot chocolate, please.”
The server nods, not tearing her gaze from the man across from me. Fair. He’s hard to look away from.
“And for you?” she asks, her voice low with a come-hither quality to it. I wonder how long it’s taken her to perfect that tone.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
My eyes dart to his. Does he know he’s quoting one of the greatest rom-com movie lines of all time?
His eyes twinkle back at me, and I giggle. This is the guy I remember from school. It’s just Nathan. No need to be nervous.
“You look gorgeous, by the way,” he says, focusing the heat of his stare on me.
My nerves fly everywhere.
“Thanks.” I pull my blanket of hair over my shoulder, giving my restless hands something to do, and he follows the movement closely.
“I’m not sure how I ever forgot about your hair…” he murmurs, almost to himself.
