He brought over the portable CD player he’d been listening to on the other side of the field and we didn’t get a jot of work done for the rest of the day. Sam was not remotely stressed about any of his forthcoming exams, despite taking the kind of subjects only the brainiest kids did: all three sciences and further maths. I’d never understood the appeal personally, largely because I was terrible at them.
‘Where are you going to uni?’ I asked.
‘Imperial College London. I’ve got a place to study medicine,’ he told me.
‘Impressive.’
He winced a little, then smiled. ‘Well, I’m not doing it for the kudos.’
I scrunched up my nose. ‘Really? Not even a little bit?’ I teased.
‘Does it make me averysad person to say I’m one of those bleeding hearts who wants to save lives and make a difference?’
‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘I applaud that wholeheartedly, even if I’m still convinced there must be a part of you hoping you’ll look good in a white coat.’
‘I mean . . . it works for George Clooney,’ he grinned.
‘This is true. Though, are you aware he’s not a real doctor?’
He really laughed at that. And the sight of his face lighting up at something I’d said made me feel mildly elated, drunk on sunshine. He was unbelievably easy to talk to, for reasons I couldn’t entirely define, and I relaxed into the conversation to an almost unprecedented degree, finally managing to act like my best self, instead of the usual jabbering wreck I was in front of the opposite sex.
‘So what about you?’ he said. ‘Where are you off to uni?’
‘I’ve got a place in London too. Goldsmiths.’
‘Oh really? To study what?’
‘Art history,’ I said.
‘Fascinating,’ he replied, apparently with more conviction than most of my family members, who’d been bewildered by my choice. I wasn’t going to tell them that my initial interest in the subject had mainly been sparked by watching the Antiques Roadshow every Sunday, when Jeff and I would compete to guess the nearest price of each item before its reveal.
‘I’m probably not going to go to London though,’ I added, vaguely. ‘I’m still in two minds about my first choice. It’ll probably be Newcastle. Not sure.’
At that stage I was working on the basis that it would be way too expensive to live in the capital. Plus, I didn’t know a soul who’d be there. At least I hadn’t until then . . .
‘Anyway, I’m off to do Camp America over the summer first,’ I continued.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I’ll be working as a counsellor at a horse-riding camp in Michigan.’
‘Wow. How long have you been riding horses?’
‘I haven’t, unless you count the big metal ones you find on fairground rides. I’m going as an art teacher and general dogsbody. I’m just hoping nobody notices I can’t actually draw.’
‘I must say, it sounds like you’re absolutely made for this job,’ he grinned.
‘Doesn’t it?’ I laughed. ‘Are you doing anything this summer? Going away? Getting a job?’
He shrugged and looked down at his notebook. ‘I’m going to play it by ear, I think. I’ve got a few things going on.’ I didn’t know why but he looked slightly cagey about the subject. It was only then that I started to question my initial assumptions about him. I’d thought at first that he wasn’t your classic heartthrob. He was handsome,undoubtedly – gorgeous, if the truth be told. But if he’d been in a boy band, he’d have been the quiet, thoughtful one – not the mouthy lead singer everyone plastered on their walls.
The more we chatted, the more I felt naïve to have thought I might have been the only one to notice his charms. His brains alone were a massive aphrodisiac. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he ended up curing cancer one day. Plus, he had this way of looking at you that had the most arresting physical effect on me. My limbs would soften. My blood started to run a little warmer. Hemusthave a girlfriend already. Why wouldn’t he?
As the sun began to set and it became clear that it was time to go, we gathered our things and walked slowly to the park gate.
‘Why don’t you call yourself Julie anymore, as a matter of interest?’ he asked.
I lifted my sunglasses up. ‘Do Ilooklike a Julie? Be very careful before you answer that.’
