Oban in February is an endurance sport. The gale coming off the Atlantic slices straight through your layers and goes for the joints. The grey sky is hanging low over the water.
We’re walking along the pier. The ferry to Mull is chugging out, trailing diesel fumes and gulls. For about one and a half hours, we browse for books at Waterstones. Then we stroll the stretch of the esplanade, Ava’s arm hooked in mine, until we reach the far end close to the distillery. Her hip bumps my leg every third step, and I wait for each one.
‘Ice cream.’ I point to The Pokey Hat. It’s eleven, they’re about to open.
Ava stops. Her gaze darts between the shop and my face. ‘It’s three degrees. My fingers are numb.’
‘Sorry, but you can’t come to Oban and not have a Pokey Hat. It’s frowned upon.’
‘Watch me.’
Five minutes later, we sit on a bench, huddled together against the chill. She got salted caramel, and I went for mint choc chip. Simple man, simple needs. But nothing about this is simple. I wish it were.
Ava pulls her scarf tighter around her neck. ‘You’ve lost the plot, Scott.’ But then she drags her tongue up the side of the cone with a happy moan, and my dick hits my jeans so hard it stings.
You’re her friend, you depraved fuck.
‘Oh. Wow. Okay, you win.’ She catches a drip of caramel with her thumb, sucking it clean.
I need to concentrate on the sea. But it lasts about five seconds before I turn my head to take her in again. She’s smiling. Her nose is red, strands of her hair have escaped that bun and are whipping across her face. The brittle tension is gone.
We sit in silence as the wind bites at our cheeks. I love sitting next to her. All is well in the world with Ava beside me.
‘Can I ask you something?’ she says eventually. ‘About Nevin.’
Please don’t.
I plant my elbows on my thighs, leaning forward like I’m waiting for the whistle. ‘Shoot.’
‘How is…was he with the lads? Is he…like that with all of you, too?’
‘Like what?’ I shift on the bench and nearly crush the wafer cone between my fingers.
‘A volatile, controlling arsehole.’
I let out a joyless laugh. ‘Not really. But I mean, any of us could deck him.’
‘Clearly.’
We’re both quiet as Thursday night’s events flash back.
‘I knew he was an arrogant bastard,’ I say. ‘But now I see he’s a coward, too. And a bully. To be honest, I couldn’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like Nevin.’
She takes a breath. ‘I don’t… Anyway, it’s done. Properly over. It should’ve… I should feel sad, shouldn’t I? Or angry. But mostly I feel…lighter. As if I’ve put down a rucksack full of kettlebells.’
‘That’s good, Ava. That’s healthy.’
‘I should have ended it months ago,’ she continues quietly. ‘I knew. Deep down, I knew when he made me change my dress for that event. But I stayed. I don’t know why. And I’m ashamed that I did.’
‘No. Don’t be.’ I shift, angling my body to shield her from the wind. Her knee presses into my thigh, and I let it. ‘He’s a manipulator. That’s what they do. They chip away at the mortar until the bricks are loose because watching others crumble makes them feel stable. None of it is your fault. Do you hear me?’
‘Yeah, maybe. In hindsight, I know that I wasn’t “in love” in love with him.’ She says it the way you’d read a weather forecast. ‘I thought I was. He was funny and charming, and I was dazzled. But love? Don’t think so.’ Her mouth tugs down at the corners. ‘I’m beginning to realise I’ve probably never truly been in love. Not the way people write songs about.’
I have, I think. No. I am.
I take in her profile. The sweep of her dark lashes. A bit of ice cream on her upper lip. I want to lick it off. I want to tell her.
‘You’re young,’ I say, instead. ‘Plenty of time for the dramatic, all-consuming romance.’
