There’s a lot of interesting street art and at one point I pause in front of a black-and-white painting of a weary-looking man with the wordsDreams are for those who sleep in bedssketched onto his jumper.
‘That’s heartbreaking,’ Ash murmurs as he comes to a stop beside me.
I was about to get out my phone and take a picture, but his comment stays my hand. I find myself just standing there quietly beside him, appreciating the art, before moving on.
‘Do you regret not having a camera?’ I ask curiously as we wander through a massive plaza.
The sparkling harbour is on one side and the others arebordered by grand ochre-coloured buildings above arched sandstone walkways.
‘Sometimes,’ he admits.
‘I bet you feel more connected to your experiences without one, though.’
‘Definitely. Although that sounds a bit pretentious, so I tend to keep it to myself.’ He throws me a grin before returning his gaze to the stone archway looming ahead of us.
‘Did you go to university?’ I ask, keen to get to know him better.
He nods. ‘Cardiff.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Same as you: twenty-one. I’ve just graduated.’
‘Me too.’
He moves closer to me to avoid a group of tourists and his arm presses against mine. All the blood in my body rushes to our point of contact and my skin still feels warm as we come out onto a black-and-white cobblestone backstreet and he makes room between us again.
‘What did you do?’ I ask.
‘Physics and astronomy.’
‘Oh, wow.’ I love the thought of him studying the stars.
‘What about you?’
‘Furniture design.’
‘Really?’ he asks with interest. ‘My family has a furniture workshop.’
‘No way. Mine too.’
‘Ours is only small,’ he says hastily, which makes me thinkthat we’re talking about very different family businesses. Knap Sofas is already pretty big, but my parents are intent on building an empire.
‘Where did you go to uni?’ he asks.
‘Central Saint Martins.’
‘Whoa, seriously?’
I glance at him to see that his eyebrows are raised.
‘Yes, why?’
‘My friend was desperate to go there, but she couldn’t even get an interview. She’s bright as fuck, so you must be really talented.’
‘Is this the same friend you go shopping with?’ I ask curiously.
‘Yeah, Beca. I’ve only been shopping with her once,’ he clarifies. ‘Never again.’
