He ponders for a moment. ‘You’d have finished yourdegree, if you’d listened to me. You wouldn’t have become a model, not really. You might have dabbled, but you’d have been doing a degree you hated and that you would probably have failed because you’d have been too busy trying to keep modelling going at the same time.’
‘And because I was crap at literature.’
‘And because you were crap at literature,’ he echoes. ‘But you knew what you wanted, and you went out and got it. And you made it work. Really work. Now look at you. I’m glad you didn’t listen to me. Because …’ He looks around at the London skyline lights, shining brightly in the dark sky, and whistles through his teeth. ‘The alternative wouldn’t look like this. You trusted your own decision. And you didn’t listen to me. I’m really proud of you.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, embarrassed. ‘I did listen to you, though. I just—’
‘Went a different way,’ he finishes for me.
I sip my tea and cast my gaze outwards again. Next to me, Ollie does the same.
‘This place is incredible. You’re incredible.’
For half a second I don’t process these words. Instead I turn and with a hazy half-smile quietly say, ‘Pardon?’
Ollie’s gaze dips away from mine. ‘You’ve done so well,’ he says softly. ‘You are just … incredible.’
What a lovely thing to say. I look at him, but his dark eyes refuse to find mine.
‘I’m not. But thank you. I’ve worked hard. You’re working hard too. And let’s not try to compare medicine and modelling, please. I won’t come out the winner, but you – you’rea good person. And I love that about you. I love everything about you, Ollie. Perhaps you’re a bit too perfect, on reflection. And that’s never attractive.’
‘Perfectly imperfect, telling you all the things you don’t want to hear?’
‘Maybe not that perfect actually,’ I reply.
‘So … a littlemoreattractive, now I’mlessperfect?’ he clarifies and I watch Ollie watching me.
‘You’ve always been attractive,’ I say shyly.
He doesn’t speak for a moment and all I can hear is my own heartbeat. ‘Really?’ he asks eventually.
I nod, keeping my eyes on him. Something happens to my insides as we look at each other. And then something happens in my brain and it’s as if an answer arrives to a question I have never ever thought to ask myself.
Ollie’s gaze drifts to my mouth, slightly parted in a strange moment of calm and surprise, mixed into one. But not at anything he’s doing – just at this situation, this moment. Although I’m notquitesure what’s happening.
We’re not allowed to do thisis the only thought I have as I move closer to him. It sneaks its way into my mind like an alarm, all hateful noise and sudden shock. But I want it. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, I want it and I hate that, because it poses too many problems.
Then Ollie pulls back, looks away as the balcony door opens and Ben stands there, hair dishevelled and blinking at us in confusion.
‘I think I fell asleep,’ he says groggily, looking around at the cloudy sky and the thin line of light appearing on the horizon.
‘Morning, Sunshine,’ Ollie says to Ben with an easy breeze that I can’t yet muster.
‘It’s late. Or early,’ Ben replies. ‘Sign of a good party. Any chance of breakfast or are we going home?’ he asks Ollie.
‘We’re going home,’ Ollie’s quick to say.
I’m keen to keep him here a bit longer. ‘I have bacon and eggs and sourdough bread. I can whip up something.’
‘Fantastic,’ Ben replies. ‘Now show me how to work that coffee machine and we’ve got ourselves a party. Shame Liv’s not here …’ he continues talking as we head back inside. ‘Then it would have been just like old times.’
Ollie looks at me and I would give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. Then his gaze follows Ben as we walk inside and, together, the three of us start cooking breakfast.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The three of us are seated at the long kitchen island, shovelling bacon and eggs into our mouths. We’re on our second coffee each and are trying not to make too much noise while we talk, so we don’t wake my mum.
It’s nice, this. Just like old times, minus Liv. But for the first time in ages the four of us are back on speaking terms. I’m elated, although I realise that Ollie and I almost undid all the hard work, by nearly kissing. That is what was about to happen, wasn’t it? We were about to kiss each other. And I wanted it. I still do. I’d blame the champagne, but it wore off ages ago. Being near Ollie makes me happy.
