He emerged from the water and walked to where Oliver was waiting with two mugs of tea in the kitchen, still unsure of what to do. Oliver wordlessly passed him a mic and Declan clipped it onto his shorts. When he said nothing, Oliver handed him his tea.
Declan took a sip and nodded his thanks. ‘I want to talk to you about something,’ he said finally.
Oliver absentmindedly fingered the buttons on his shirt. ‘Yeah?’
‘Do you like her?’ Taking in Oliver’s blank look, he clarified, ‘Maeve.’
‘Er…’ Oliver’s eyes flicked sideways, towards Brian and the cameraman, and he cleared his throat. ‘I like Maeve a lot. I’m not sure Ifancyher exactly…’ He trailed off, seeming flustered, and Declan realised he’d been staring.
‘What do you mean, you’re not sure?’ Declan asked, wishing they could have a moment alone. He wanted to make Oliver understand this wasn’t part of their game, that he was trying to help him. ‘I mean, you’ve not been looking at any of the other girls. And she’s fit, isn’t she? She’s a bloody solicitor. What’s not to like?’
Oliver just looked at him helplessly. ‘Are you asking me if it’s okay for you to crack on with her?’ He gave Declan a weak smile. ‘Thought we were past that.’
Declan shook his head. ‘I’m trying to understand what you’re looking for.’
Oliver seemed lost in thought. ‘I guess it’s not that simple for me, knowing if I fancy someone. I haven’t felt that way since I was a teenager. I thought I would know it when it happened, but I’m a bit lost.’
‘It’s been that long?’ Declan couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
Oliver adjusted his glasses self-consciously. ‘I was sixteen when my ex and I got together, and we broke up a few months ago.’ He paused. ‘Almost eight months ago. She moved to America,’ he said, as though that explained things.
‘Oh,’ Declan said. Oliver’s decision to come on the show finally made sense – only someone in crisis would do something as mad as try to find love on a reality show. ‘That must have been hard for you.’
Oliver’s expression softened, some anxiety leaving his face. ‘Makes my hermit comment a little less funny, to be sure.’
Declan didn’t know how to process this new piece of information, trying to marry this revelation with what he’d thought he’d known about Oliver.
‘How did you know that you fancied her?’ he asked finally, and then immediately regretted the question. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Oliver’s feelings for his ex-girlfriend.
Oliver blinked at him. ‘Pardon?’
‘We’ve got to start somewhere, don’t we?’ Declan said. ‘I mean, it was a long time ago, but surely you remember.’
‘Er…’ Oliver said. ‘It was easy, instant. We were paired up in class – I’d just moved to London and she took me under her wing, introduced me to her mates, never left me alone…’ He struggled for a moment, but finally continued, his expression wistful, ‘I felt like the luckiest person in the world. She was the first person in my life who didn’t think that my plans were mad – they were the same as hers.’
Declan stared at him, thoughts racing. Oliver’s raw tone in talking about this woman Declan had never met made him realise what a perilous position he had put himself in. Oliver was straight, and clearly in love with someone else, yet somehow had got past Declan’s usual defences.
‘It was easy to fall for her,’ Oliver continued, oblivious to Declan’s internal struggle. ‘I mean, everyone loves Sophie – if you met her, you would love her too. She’s just like that.’
Declan couldn’t imagine a reality where that was true, but he politely refrained from saying so.
After a moment, he realised Oliver was waiting for a response. ‘God, I didn’t…’
He cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. It was clear Oliver still cared for her, his love for her somehow unshakeable. It reminded him of Georgia and James; the kind of love that was wholly foreign to Declan. The transparent pain on Oliver’s face made him inexplicably jealous of how he let himself be so vulnerable even after she’d broken his heart.
Declan had seen the aftermath of bad break-ups before, both Georgia’s tears and his father’s disengagement. The day after Declan’s mother had walked out, his father had acted like nothing had happened, and so Declan had done the same. He’d never thought admitting that he needed her, that he missed her,was an option. His dad had needed him to be brave, unflinching, and then as the years passed, his career had demanded the same.
‘I didn’t realise you could even date someone for that long,’ he finished lamely.
Oliver shrugged, examining Declan’s hands rather than meeting his eye. ‘Maybe you haven’t found the girl that will change your mind,’ he said in a strange voice.
Declan laughed softly, hoping it didn’t sound hollow. ‘That’s what they tell me.’
‘Maybe it’s Zoë,’ Oliver said, and winced.
Declan nodded, looking away, part of him wishing he’d never approached Oliver on the beach. Maybe then the careful lies upon which he’d constructed his entire life wouldn’t feel so precarious. Talking to Oliver was like standing on a precipice.
His eyes refocused on the cameraman standing over Oliver’s right shoulder. He swallowed, suddenly remembering the purpose of the conversation. ‘It seems like when you fancy someone, youreallyfancy her,’ he said, the facade sliding smoothly back into place. ‘Enough to date her for, what, eight years? So I think if you did fancy Maeve, you would know for sure.’
