I rolled my eyes but didn't disagree.
He stood when I did and walked me to the door. We stepped outside into the kind of early summer warmth that lingered even as the sun dipped low. "You good to walk home?"
"I'll be fine. It's ten minutes."
Marcus reached for my hand before I could shove it in my pocket and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned in like he always did, but this time, his hand found my jaw first. He kissed me slower than usual, then stepped back and walked off without another word.
I waited until he turned the corner before I headed the other way. The air was still warm, the streets quieter now. But somewhere between the café and my flat, my thoughts drifted straight back to Eli.
He never answered my last text, but that wasn't unusual. He had his own world in London, and it rarely intersected with mine. Whenever I visited him, it felt like I'd stepped into acompletely different reality. Bright lights, constant movement, all the people who orbited around him like planets caught in his gravitational pull.
I usually went to him. Eli only came home when he needed to escape. Or if something in his life was falling apart. It had been that way for years.
I tried to shake off those thoughts as I unlocked the door to my flat. Eli was my best friend. He always had been. But lately, that friendship was becoming a weight I couldn't shake. I'd been in love with him for longer than I cared to admit. And deep down, I knew he'd never see me that way.
I dropped my bag on the sofa and kicked off my shoes, the quiet calm of the flat surrounding me as I made my way to the kitchen. I pulled out my phone to scroll through my messages until my thumb hovered over his name.
For a minute, I leaned against the counter and debated whether to send another text or just let it go. I'd seen enough of his breakups – with both men and women – to know how this would play out. He'd sulk for a few days, bury his mind in work, and then throw himself into something new, convinced it would turn out differently.
It never did.
Just as I was about to text Marcus instead, the phone buzzed in my hand. Eli's name lit up the screen:You free this weekend? Could use some company.
My heart did that stupid little jump it always did whenever he reached out. It was just a casual invite. Nothing special. But that didn't stop the rush of excitement at the thought of seeing him for the first time in over a year.
Then the nerves came on just as quickly. Because seeing Eli always came with a price.
I typed out a quick response before I had a chance to second-guess myself:Yeah, I'm free. When were you thinking?
His reply came almost immediately:Friday night.Drinks at mine?
I smiled a little. That usually meant the night would end on his balcony with Eli rambling about his latest project or venting about something. It was always easy to slip into that routine with him. But it also reminded me of just how different our lives had become.
I sent a quick confirmation, my fingers lingering over the screen after the message went through. Excitement and nerves tangled in my stomach, knotted too tightly to pull apart. Visiting Eli was always like that. I loved being around him, but I outgrew London ages ago. It hadn't been my world for almost two decades, and it never would be again.
Despite that, it was easier for me to go to him. I could step into his life for a weekend, pretend I belonged, and then slip back into the quiet of Tunbridge Wells. But truthfully, I didn't fit in with the type of people Eli surrounded himself with. London buzzed with energy, and it wasn't for me. And every time I left, the gap between us stretched just a little more.
I tucked my phone away and filled the kettle, trying to shake the restlessness that had crept back in. Honestly, I wanted to see him. No matter how much our lives had changed, Eli was still Eli. My best friend and the one who'd always been there, even if it didn't feel the same as when we were teens.
But there was always an edge to it. That quiet, persistent ache I'd never been able to shake. No matter how much time passed, I couldn't stop feeling like I was waiting for something that would never come. Waiting for Eli to see me the way I saw him. Waiting for him to need me as much as I needed him.
I sighed and plugged the kettle in. Friday couldn't come soon enough.
Eli
3
The station swarmed with people today. More than usual. They rushed past in every direction, dragging suitcases, dodging each other, filling every bit of space with motion. I leaned against a pillar near the exit and scanned the crowd for Rowan. Commuters hurried in and out of the trains while a knot of tourists hovered by the information boards looking completely lost.
Rowan finally emerged from the mayhem. He moved through the noise at his own unhurried pace, completely at odds with the chaos around him. He hadn't changed much since the last time I saw him. Same deliberate walk, same glasses perched on his nose, still looking vaguely out of place in the middle of London. His worn shoulder bag was the only sign he planned to stay longer than a few hours.
His gaze flicked through the crowd until it landed on me. He smiled, and I found myself smiling back as he approached.
I pulled him into a one-armed hug. "Hey, Ro. How was the trip?"
"Noisy." That understated warmth was still there in his voice. But as he glanced around at the walls of people rushing past us, his brow furrowed just a little. "Busy here as usual, huh?"
I chuckled. "Pretty much."
