‘I’m good,’ Oliver said, finally cracking a smile. God, Declan had missed that smile. ‘Great, actually.’
‘I heard from Maeve that you got the New York job. Well done,’ Declan said. ‘I know you worked hard for it.’
Oliver cocked his head. ‘Honestly, just getting accepted was a huge accomplishment.’
‘So… when do you move?’ Declan asked, fighting the urge to clench his teeth. At least he got to have one last conversation with Oliver. He could apologise and they could part as friends.
Oliver looked at him, eyes dancing. ‘I’m crashing with a friend in Brixton.’
‘I meant, when do you leave for New York?’
Oliver laughed. ‘You dolt,’ he said fondly. ‘I’m not going to New York.’
‘You’re not?’ Declan said, faltering.
Oliver shook his head. ‘I’m not.’
‘Why not?’ Declan asked. He felt like he was missing something vitally important.
Oliver shrugged. ‘Things changed.’
Declan’s brain short-circuited. ‘Oh.’ He shook the drink mechanically, catching Oliver watching the lines of his arms, and then put the shaker down so hard it made a loud clanging noise.
‘Easy on the counters, King,’ Jack called.
‘Sorry,’ Declan said, too quietly for Jack to hear him. Oliver wasn’t going to New York; Oliver was staying in London. Oliver was here, looking at him, not going anywhere.
Declan poured the drink into a glass, sloshing some of it onto the counter.
‘Shit,’ he muttered, grabbing a hand towel and wiping the spill. Oliver put a hand over his, and Declan finally looked up. They stared at each other. Declan tried his hardest to form a coherent thought, but kept getting stuck on the exact green of Oliver’s eyes.
He swallowed. ‘What changed?’
‘I think you know.’
Declan supposed he did. He pulled his hand out from under Oliver’s. ‘Right, well,’ he said gruffly, finally breaking their eye contact.
That wasn’t what he had wanted to say. It wasn’t the down-on-his-knees apology he’d envisioned for when he saw Oliver again. He shook his head and continued, ‘I fucked up. When you left – Paige told me what you did for me – I never wanted to put you through that.’
‘You didn’t,’ Oliver said, and Declan scoffed.
‘I helped,’ he said, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘What I mean to say is… I’m sorry.’
Oliver picked up his drink and took a sip, letting out a contented sigh. ‘This is really good.’
‘Thanks,’ he murmured, ‘I’m studying to be a bartender.’
‘Oh?’ Oliver asked, amused.
Declan shrugged. ‘I dunno. I’m still figuring out what I want to do.’
‘Well, well,’ Oliver said, downing the rest of the drink, ‘never thought I’d see the day.’
‘Me neither,’ Declan said.
‘Want to get out of here?’ Oliver asked, and he nodded eagerly. ‘Hey, guys, sorry to cut out early,’ Oliver called to the rest of the group, his eyes still on Declan. ‘My flatmate texted that he’s locked out.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Jack whined. ‘You literally just got here!’
