I’d been in a bad place when Greg and I had finally got together. We’d known each other for a year, having met during Freshers’ week, and lived in the same block of flats, but at first we were just friends. That was my choice – I was still officially with Adam, who was travelling round the country with his band, playing in pubs and bars and trying to make a name for himself. He came to stay whenever he was nearby, and I was still desperately in love with him.
‘You can do better than him,’ Greg told me one day after Adam had been to visit during those first few weeks.
‘You don’t know him,’ I’d snapped, then felt bad. I knew by then – everyone did – that Greg had been in love with me from the moment we’d met. I’d never led him on, never promised him we could ever be anything more than friends, but I understood from experience how that didn’t always stop the feelings from existing. He was just looking out for me.
Greg was important to me. As a friend, sure, but from the very beginning there was something about him that made me realise he was going to be in my life to stay. During our first week, a group of us had gone drinking together at what turned out to be a bit of a rough pub when a group of locals had got rowdy, goading the new students, seemingly desperate to start a fight. I’d hated it, hated any kind of threat of violence, and some of the others were getting riled. But Greg had handled it calmly, stepping in and asking them if they fancied a game of pool and getting in a round of drinks, instantly defusing the situation. He’d been a hero in my eyes after that, and we spent most days together. He’d come to my room and we’d listen to music, go to the library and study, or just hang out at the student union, drinking, smoking and laughing. He was unlike any of the other friends I had – and the complete opposite to Adam – but he was funny and kind and self-deprecating and I liked being with him. Perhaps it was because he made me feel so safe during the times Adam was away. And even though everyone knew he wanted us to be more than friends, that he hated the way Adam treated me, he never pushed it, and he never, ever made me feel uncomfortable. With Sam and Rose off in different corners of the country, I loved having him as a friend.
Then two things happened: Mum was diagnosed with early onset dementia, and, shortly after, Adam and I split up. Just when I’d felt as though my entire world had fallen apart, Greg had been there for me. He’d become my world, and over the weeks that followed we’d fallen into a relationship.
Whether it should have developed into what it eventually became I couldn’t say, but the truth was Ididlove Greg, and I’d never want to hurt him. The roots of our marriage ran deep, and I loved him with all of my heart. It perhaps wasn’t the kind of all-consuming passion he’d always hoped for, but it had always been uncomplicated, absolute. Comfortable.
I pushed the memories away now, fearing my thoughts might slide back to Adam again, and how different it had always felt between us. Things were delicate enough between Greg and I, the last thing I needed to do was bring another problem into the equation – not to mention the fact that dreaming about some wild, unobtainable passion felt childish, naïve. Life doesn’t work that way, Erin.
Slowly, I became aware of Greg running his fingers along my arm, and up to my shoulders. I opened my eyes to find him watching me, a question on his face. Was this okay? I smiled to let him know it was and tried not to feel guilty at the look of gratitude in his eyes as he pulled himself up until his face was level with mine. As he lay alongside me on the too-narrow sofa, I felt the familiar press of his body against mine, the places where we’d learned to fit together, despite our bodies changing over the years. The truth was, physically, Greg had hardly changed from the trim boy he’d been when we met, and I was only slightly heavier. The familiarity was a comfort to us both.
‘I love you,’ he whispered, and his breath tickled my lips. In that moment I made a decision. I needed to show Greg how much I cared, and push Adam from my thoughts for good. And so, without reciprocating his words, I kissed him deeply.
3
THEN
Nirvana: ‘Heart-Shaped Box’
The music was loud but the party was lame. Erin stood in the corner of the room tipping lukewarm beer down her neck faster than she should, feeling her head spin and her body relax. She’d had a shitty day after falling out with Sam – some misunderstanding that she was sure they’d clear up soon – she’d had a detention for forgetting her maths homework, and when she’d got home, Mum and Dad had been in the middle of a huge row. It was so rare for them to argue it had freaked her out. She’d snuck in the back door so they didn’t see her and hid in her room until she’d heard her mum storming out and slamming the front door.
In fact, Erin had been in such a bad mood she almost hadn’t come to this party at all. But in the end Rose had convinced her, standing on the doorstep and practically dragging her out of the house.
‘Come on, it’ll be fun,’ she’d insisted.
Rose had been wrong of course, as Erin had known she would be. And now here she was, standing on her own in a room full of writhing bodies deciding whether to just cut her losses and leave, while Sam sulked and Rose snogged the face off a boy she fancied in a dark corner.
She took a final swig from her bottle and left it on the floor, then made her way into the kitchen to find another one. Even though all the best parties were meant to end up in the kitchen, this one hadn’t got going properly yet and the kitchen was still empty. Cans of Red Stripe and bottles of cheap wine were lined up along the worktop, and a bin bag was already starting to bulge with empties. Who was cleaning up at a teenage party?
Erin grabbed another bottle of beer and was about to step into the back garden when a voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.
‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
She turned to find a boy leaning against the doorframe. His long dark hair curled out from beneath a battered fedora, and he was dressed in a leather jacket and ripped jeans. But it was his piercing blue eyes that made her stomach flip over.
‘Um, no. We haven’t.’
‘I’m Adam,’ he said. When he smiled, his whole face lit up.
‘Erin.’
‘Nice to meet you Erin.’
‘You too,’ she mumbled.
‘Are you going outside?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Mind if I join you? Could do with a smoke.’
‘No, um, sure.’
Erin pushed the door open and was relieved when the cool air hit her damp skin. She breathed in deeply and waited while Adam followed her. There were some folding chairs round a small wooden table so they pulled one out each and sat down. Adam put his feet up on the table, ankles crossed, and rummaged around in his pocket. She’d felt grown up when she’d left the house in her satin camisole and white capri jeans, but now she just felt very young and very shy as she tried not to stare at this mystery man who’d decided to come and sit with her.
