‘Because you’ll meet people, guys, other blokes, I’ve heard what goes on at university.’
I smile. I know what goes on at university because of my sisters and it sounds brilliant.
‘You must not love me as much then,’ he states callously.
‘Josh. Are you asking me not to go to university or are you telling me?’
‘I’m not doing anything. I love you.’
‘This isn’t love.’
‘Well, piss off then.’
‘I want to do something with my life, Josh.’
‘That doesn’t include me. You think you’re better than me? Smarter than me?’
‘I’ve never said that.’
‘Seriously, go to university, live your life. Fucking selfish is what it is. Fuck off.’
‘No, YOU FUCK OFF.’
Josh keeps looking at me as I play that moment in my head. Tears rolled down my eyes that evening to be called selfish from someone I loved, on the day I got my A-Level results, my birthday, on a day that was supposed to be about celebration, he shat all over it. That’s not love.
‘It was first love maybe. It was very pure and untainted by real life but you know what, Josh?’
I let him come in a little closer to hear.
‘I’m really bloody glad we didn’t end up together.’
He immediately looks insulted. Good.
‘Your love was dependent on me staying, me being close, it was built on conditions and stopping me from living my life, from growing. What an awful way to love someone.’
‘I was young.’
‘It was vindictive, even then. And after we rowed, you went and hooked up with Chloe Hilton in the loos at Oceana. Farah saw it. You didn’t even lock the door, that’s so rough.’
He doesn’t even try and apologise for that.
‘Well, yeah but we all do stupid stuff when we’re young. It wouldn’t be like that now…’
‘Itwon’tbe like that now? Are you on drugs?’
‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’
‘Then read a sodding book… you’re doing it again! So you feel something and I have to react. This is how I’m reacting…’ I squeal, my face contorted in disgust, like I’ve just trodden in something I shouldn’t have.
‘Then this is how you’re gonna be – alone and single at thirty?’ he retorts, thinking for one second that I may be scared of that prospect.
‘I’m not alone though, am I? I’m surrounded by love and friendship and people who really care, who’ve been there this last decade and held me close and have never let go, despite me. You think I want to be defined by you swanning in here telling me you’ll have me and make me less alone? Fuck off. I’d rather sit on a cactus than have your knob near me again.’
‘Whatever. Look, I’m just telling you how I feel.’
‘Next time, write it down. On a Post-it note and shove it up your arse.’
He grabs his flowers and storms out. I hope he saves those flowers for the grave he’ll have to dig when I tell his wife what he’s been up to. I punch at a spare bit of mattress beside me. That hurt. At the doorway, two heads suddenly appear, Beth and Meg, wondering if it’s safe to enter.
