“’Cause it’s driving me nuts.”
“Because you have to face the truth,” he corrects me. “And that hurts. It’s OK, Henry, that’s what the gin’s for.”
I drink because it’s all pointless. “It was perfect,” I say in theend. “For a long time, it really was perfect, but it wasn’t enough. It was good, it was nice, and I had no idea that that isn’t everything. D’you understand? It was like driving down the motorway with the hand brake on.”
“Not good for the gears,” he remarks.
“What’s that got to do with the gears?”
“Well, the engine then, whatever. Either way, it wasn’t good.”
“It really wasn’t good,” I mumble, taking another swig. “Or, yes, it was good. But underwhelming-good.”
“And Emma’s overwhelming-good?”
“Emma is... No idea.”
“She’s hot, that’s for sure.”
“She’s not hot, she’s beautiful,” I say.
“Henry, stop drinking, you’re getting sentimental.” Sinclair goes to grab the bottle, but I pull it away in time.
“It’s true,” I insist. “Have you ever looked at her, Sinclair?”
“You’re in lust with her.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than that.”
“Have you shagged her?”
“God, no,” I retort hastily. “I’d never...”
“Yeah, fine, you have principles, got it.”
“Think of Grace,” I mumble, letting him take the bottle this time. “How shitty would that have been of me?”
I don’t know if I’m imagining the bitter twist to his lips as he drinks. “Pretty shitty.” When I don’t say anything, he raises his head. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”
“Are you thinking about Tori? She’s dating Valentine these days, right?”
“The guy’s a tool, but I guess she knows that,” he says curtly. “And stop changing the subject. We’re talking about you and Emma.”
About me and Emma. I don’t know why, but at that second, I allow myself to think it for the first time. Emma and me. The two of us. I want that so badly.
“You have to go to her,” Sinclair says at the same moment I think,I have to go to her.
“I can’t,” I mumble. “Not now. I have to get this right, you know?”
“You’re Henry, you get everything right.”
I laugh miserably and reach for the bottle.
“No, no, I get it,” he says. “So wait a while, then.”
I want to go to Emma right now. More than anything. I want to be rash and impulsive. I want to kiss her and... Shit. I really do want to shag her. But with feeling. Hard but with feeling. God, Sinclair’s got to take that gin off me. How is it possible that the bottle’s almost half empty?
“We almost kissed,” I say. “Me and Emma. Yesterday, when we were in Glasgow. She met someone important to her there and afterward... It almost happened but I pulled away at the last moment. Not because I didn’t want to. Because of Grace. But Emma... I think she took it totally the wrong way.”
