Page 26 of The Truth About You and Me
‘It’s OK.’ He looks appalled by his actions.
‘I—’
‘Really, Jack.’ I smile despite reeling from his thoughts. ‘It’s fine. It was my fault; I wasn’t paying attention.’
I clutch the inside of my pocket, like I’m trying to hold on to something that is already lost. ‘I’m fine,’ I reassure him again, but he’s standing still, his eyes locked on my pocket.
I turn away, trying to push away the grainy image that was at the back of his thoughts. The road outside the White Lion pub. Just down the road from whereI wasthat night. I close the front door behind us, the security light spotlighting us on the pavement, my heart knocking against my ribcage as I pull the mittens back over. His thoughts replay over in my mind:This is too soon. I’m not ready.
‘I’ll swing by tomorrow and—’ Jack begins.
‘That’s… it’s really kind of you but… look.’ I drag my hands through my hair. ‘I… I think it might be better if…’ The muscles in my forehead tighten and I force myself to concentrate on my breathing instead. ‘I, if we… do you remember when I said that I’m complicated?’
‘I do, but?—’
I bite down the pain before I continue. ‘I… this… you and me… I’m not available, not how you would need me to be if this is going where I think thismightbe.’
He puts his hands in his pockets and looks to the right of the street.
I soften my voice. ‘And I don’t thinkyou’reready either.’
There’s a stillness around us, the air heavy with all the things we’re not saying. He gives a small nod, a fraction of a movement.
‘So where do we go from here?’ he says quietly.
I want to touch him again, to hear what he’s thinking. Is he relieved? But I can’t do that. Not with him. ‘I would like us to be friends?’
His head leans, just a fraction. ‘Friends?’
I nod, glancing at my boots. ‘But…’ I meet his eyes. ‘The kind of friends who don’t spill orange juice on each other.’ I give him a small smile; I want to look away. I don’t.
He lets out a long breath, eyes searching mine. A car passes, a dog barks twice, life carrying on around us as though I’ve not said goodbye to the one real chance I’ve ever felt at a normal life.
‘OK. Friends,’ he says, and I try to ignore the pain that is tightening my chest.
‘But we could still see each other, on Fridays?’ I ask hopefully. ‘I always think that Friday is the best day of the week, isn’t it? There is something that is even more special than the weekend – it’s the conclusion but there is still the promise of what could come next. If you’d rather not though, I’d understand.’
‘No, I mean yes, I’d like that.’
‘You’ve Got Mailis on next week. It’s about a bookshop owner so should be right up your street.’
He runs his knuckles along his jaw and nods. ‘Oh’ – he reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a book – ‘I thought you might like this?’
He hesitates, glancing down at the book and my gloves, like he’s unsure how to pass it to me. I reach out, taking the book from his hands. ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife?’
‘Yeah.’ He takes a step back. ‘I think you’ll like it. It’s one of the book club’s favourites.’
‘Thanks, this looks great. I love a bit of time travel.’
There is an awkwardness to our exchange now. It’s as though we’re less like friends and more like strangers. ‘I’ll start it tonight and let you know. As we’re swapping favourites, check outPride and Prejudice, the Keira Knightley one.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘There is no way that it’s better than the?—’
‘Book. I know, I know…’ I roll my eyes. ‘But the music is gorgeous and there is the best hand acting ever.’
‘Hand acting?’
‘You’ll see.’
