She stopped, paused in the middle of the street, shaking her head.
I knew why, she’d just given me an in, a chance to move things on, make something of this between us.
I’d screwed it up.
And I couldn’t blame anyone. Except me.
Wren
When I was eighteen I was dating a boy three years older. He played cricket for our county and turned girls’ heads wherever he went. I planned on losing my virginity to him before I went to university and then I anticipated him visiting me when he could and me going home or travelling to watch him play.
It was a Friday night when I walked into a bar where I knew he’d be and saw him with his arms around my best friend.
That had been the last time I cried over a man. I would get mad, hurt, angry, sad, but I didn’t shed tears and now was no different.
I sat, cross-legged, on the sofa and stared at the pages of my book. The words were jumbled, not making any sense, even though it was a favourite read, a bit like a comfort blanket. I’d been sat here since I’d heard Callum leave for work at around six, then I’d got up, made a brew and decided to hold a pity party for one.
Why I’d thought that the boy I’d known had changed, I didn’t know. Leopards don’t change their spots and damaged boys don’t become healed overnight.
Or over a decade.
My book wasn’t making any sense, which was fine because I knew the story well. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl fall in love after a few issues. Boy and girl fall out. Boy and girl make up and live happily ever after.
I could tell myself I didn’t need my own happily ever after but that didn’t mean I didn’t want it. The problem was, the only candidate there had been couldn’t want me because he was scared.
“Okay, tell Uncle Seph what’s happened.” Seph appeared what could only be described as a monstrosity of a dressing gown. It was pink and fluffy, hooded and the hood had large bunny ears.
“You’re going to need to tell me why you’re wearing that first of all.”
“What?”
“The pink vomit.”
“If I didn’t have it on, I’d be naked.”
I gave him my best teacher stare. “I’m not discussing that in case you offer proof. Why not something more manly?”
“I’m testing it for Max’s stag party. We’re off to Iceland. Home of volcanic pools and pink rabbit dressing gowns. Look.” He spun round, showing the words ‘Max’s Models’ in large silver letters on the back.
“I don’t think I’m going to comment.”
Seph smiled. “Which is fine. I almost got a smile, which is obviously what my turd of a brother stole. Has he been a dick? Because that isn’t unusual.”
“I thought…” My head hit the back on the sofa and I closed my eyes. I had work in a few hours and I’d genuinely liked yesterday. The zoo was mammoth in scale and busy; I’d found it less claustrophobic than a small vets. I had no idea what I’d do long term, if there was to be a long term in my plans, but I was interested in the projects they had going on.
Mr Charm sat down next to me. “Thought what? Because you look like you’ve been upset.”
“Did Callum upset a lot of girls?”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
“Yes.” Clearly I had a masochistic streak.
“Yeah. There’s always been a few who would message me or what and ask why he hadn’t got in touch. He wasn’t a shit with them; he made it clear that he wasn’t looking for anything serious.”
“That’s what he was always like.” Except with me. When there were mixed messages.
“He wasn’t happy about you and Carl last night.”
