‘You know,’ he says, non-committally.
‘Can I come in?’
‘You are in.’
‘Ha-ha. It’s OK that I’m in? That’s what I’m asking.’
He nods and I walk over to the edge of his bed, sit down and ask Ben, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m all right,’ he says, looking anything but. ‘I’m not the one in hospital. I’m just hosting the weekend house-party from hell.’
A small laugh escapes my lips. ‘It’s been a bit crazy. Liv’s parents texted me back. They’re going to pop over tomorrow and grab her things from here, take her home from hospital. I guess we’ll see her after Christmas?’
‘Mad times’ is all Ben has to say about that.
‘You were incredible today,’ I tell him meaningfully.
‘Thanks.’
‘How did you know how to do that? How to save her like that?’
‘Seen it on TV, I guess. Don’t know. Sort of winged it.’
‘Really? God, don’t tell Ollie that, will you?’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s having an existential crisis about being a doctor.’
‘He was fucking appalling,’ Ben says.
‘No, Ben, he wasn’t. Ollie was … stunned. So was I.’
‘He literally wants to do a job where he spends his time saving people’s lives.’
I narrow my eyes. We need to move on. ‘I didn’t corridor-creep into your room to talk about Ollie. I want to talk about you. I want to tell you how amazing you are. And I don’t know what kind of batshit-crazy nonsense your dad was spouting, but you are fantastic and wonderful and the most incredible person. And I want you to know that. I want you to hear that today, from someone who cares so much about you. I want you to know that you are … are … I’m so tired, I’ve run out of describing words.’
‘“Describing words”? You mean “adjectives”? Aren’t you doing an English degree?’
‘Fuck off,’ I say, punching him lightly on his bare shoulder.
He laughs and then reaches out to touch my face softly. ‘Thanks for coming in here and offering me all your describing words. I really needed them.’
‘Even though you were sleeping?’
‘Even though I was sleeping.’
I look longingly at him, this fantastic man who saved our friend’s life, who got shouted at by his dad for no reason, and I’m about to tell him what I think I’ve known for a few weeks now, which I implicitly felt the moment his dad shouted at him – my decision downstairs cemented as I stared into the fire.
‘So why did you corridor-creep then,’ he asks, ‘if not to talk about today?’
‘You told me I’m only allowed to corridor-creep if you’ve worn me down enough to fall in love with you.’
His expression changes.
‘Ben?’ I start.
‘Yeah?’ he replies in an expectant whisper.
