The night had cooled since we’d been inside the restaurant, a chill breeze swayed through the branches of the trees lining the road, the leaves rustling in the quiet night air.
We set off at a moderate pace, which I was grateful for, as I’d bought new shoes specifically for this date, and they were starting to pinch.
Our conversation seemed to blend seamlessly from the table to the road, light and easy, like we’d known each other for a lifetime.
Since moving to London, I hadn’t formed any real attachments. Hari had been lovely, but my other housemates had been, at best, friendly. In fairness, I hadn’t put much effort into developing those friendships. From the day I’d moved in, it had felt transitory.
Much of my life over the past two years had felt like that. I couldn’t seem to put down roots. I couldn’t find it in me to want to.
I said as much to Patrick.
“Maybe you’ve just not found the right patch of ground.”
I pasted a smile onto my face, because maybe he was right, but it didn’t feel like the kind of thing you should admit to.
He didn’t outright reach for my hand, but I felt him inching closer, the swinging of his arms bringing him incrementally closer, until his fingers brushed mine.
The moment was so similar to another date, another city, five thousand miles away.
I cleared my throat to clear the sudden blockage, bringing my hand up to push my hair behind my ear before shoving my hand in my pocket, hoping desperately he hadn’t seen my moment of panic, and also cursing myself for having one.
True to his word, we made it to my street before the underground closed for the night, but not by much. It meant he couldn’t hang around.
“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t puzzle out.
As I looked up into his handsome face, eyes alight in the glow of the streetlamps, I hated myself for comparing them to another pair of eyes. A pair that was coffee brown and always seemed to light up from within.
I clenched my fists in my pockets so tight I felt my ring pressing uncomfortably into my finger.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said, covering my disquiet with a smile I hoped looked as genuine as I wanted it to be.
“Thank you for saying yes,” he murmured.
His eyes roamed over my face before settling on my lips.
He seemed to hesitate, and for a split second, I wondered if I’d have to make a decision, but then he took a single step back, exhaling heavily.
“I better run, if I want to make that train.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I laughed, a mix of relief, and nerves.
“See you soon?” His eyebrows raised in an expression that was half question, half promise.
“Yes,” I said, even as my hand automatically rose to fiddle with my necklace.
Patrick gave me one last grin, before he spun on his heel and jogged off down the street.
Just as I was about to walk into my building, he turned around.
He held his hands around his mouth, and called out, “I like you, Kaiya Thompson!”
He waved, spun back around and jogged away before I could react.
I watched him until he turned the corner at the end of the street, biting my lip.
October
In the two years that GVibes had been enlisted, there had been sparse social media posts from them. The maknaes being the most prolific, posting whenever they got any kind of sanctioned time off. But not him.
