Café humour for the lolz.
I smile, playing nice, because sensible people are nice to those responsible for or close to their food and beverage purchases. I pay, move along the line, all while silently counting down the seconds until I’m out of here.
Gone. Split. Probably vindicated. Back to enjoying Will and my vaca—
A hand lightly touches my shoulder from behind, and I turn.
—tion.
‘Sadie.’
He says my name like it’s a relief. A relief to find me here. And this Julian isn’t the man from the party; all slick suit and perfect hair.ThisJulian is the same one I met in the airport. A pale blue button-down and jeans.Is it a coincidence that he’s dressed exactly the same, or is he seeking to remind me?Geek-chic dark framed glasses, a mop of dark hair, soulful brown eyes, and a complexion that makes him look like he’s on the verge of blushing almost constantly.
He’s cute... and a little geeky. And that sort of did it for me.
He doesn’t say another thing, just stands there smiling at me and shaking his head like a total goof.
‘I can’t believe you’re actually here.’ His tone is filled with a sort of wonderment that makes my insides turn immediately to goo.
But I’m more practical than that, I remind my mushy self. And this man has a lot of ’splaining to do. And even then, there are no guarantees I’ll want to maintain contact with him, even as a friend.
Maybe I just want to see what possible excuse he could have for Saturday. But also, a tiny part of me wants to prove to myself that it was him, and nothing to do with me.
Pathetic, right?
‘Non-fat caramel Frappuccino for Sadie!’ skater girl sings.
Julian seems to come to with a snap. ‘Oh, would you like to grab a table, and I-I’ll bring your drink order over? Would you like something to eat? Maybe a muffin or a panini? Or maybe you’d like to go for a walk? The weather is lovely . . .’ He bites his lip as he frowns, and just like that, I see the man I came originally to see.
I try not to smile as widely as I currently want to, and as he begins to speak again, I say, ‘A walk would be nice.’
He’s profusely apologetic for his actions on Saturday, reiterating the things he’s said in his email. I’d be lying to say it still didn’t smart, but as he tells me of the awful year he’s had, my frostiness begins to thaw. Our conversation-filled stroll turns to lunch at an Italian restaurant, where I drink only water. I’m worried I’ll miss social clues because of my track record so far.
It’s safe to say we don’t run out of things to speak about; after all, we have so much in common. We’d discovered this in Dulles that day. We’re both big readers—mysteries and biographies for him, mostly thrillers for me. We like some of the same bands and both hate house music. And we’re both a big fan of movies and have been since childhood.
He’s travelled a lot, and I want to, and we spend an hour talking about all the places we’d like to visit someday, eventually finding ourselves in Regent’s Park after Julian insists he’ll walk me home.
‘It’s been hard,’ he says, sighing, his gaze lost for a moment as he watches a pair of ducks skim the water of the boating lake as they land. ‘When my mother died last year, things just... got on top of me. My job is pretty demanding, and I just wasn’t on form. The way I looked at it, it was either antidepressants and a shrink, or a little cocaine to pick me up at the weekend. Something to get me off the sofa and out into the world.’
‘I’m sorry about your mom.’ I’m not a recreational drug user myself. I tried pot at college once and ended up having my one and only ever panic attack. Everyone else? They get the munchies, a silly buzz, or super relaxed. But in my specialness, I ended up in the emergency room, terrified I was having a heart attack.
‘I hope you don’t think too badly of me.’
‘I try not to judge people.’ I mean I do judge people, but I try not to. In my book, that counts.
Despite having a nice afternoon, I know I can’t afford to let Julian get under my skin. He’s been open and frank about his drug use, and so apologetic it’s beginning to get on my nerves. I understand he’s had a tough year, but something just doesn’t seem right. Or maybe I’m just much more guarded than I ordinarily would be. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’ll probably die alone, surrounded by cats.
But he’s also been very open about his motivations for the future; his hopes of settling down. I think I’d ordinarily find this refreshing and possibly a little exciting, but for some reason, I’m not feeling it. Maybe because I’m not going to get ahead of myself. Or maybe it’s the silicone effect. As in, seeing him so enamoured by the type of girl who isn’t me.
And quite honestly, as we walk and chat, I can’t help but imagine what the experience would be like if Will was here instead of him. He’d probably be silly and threaten to throw me into the lake or something just as ridiculous. Snap my panty elastic or my bra strap.Probably both.And we wouldn’t be talking about the future, unless it involved a bed, or a table, or maybe a mantle to brace myself against.
‘Sadie, are you sure you’re okay?’ I nod my head quickly, realising I’d fallen quiet, lost to my thoughts. ‘At the risk of repeating myself again, I am so sorry about Saturday evening. There just isn’t an adequate excuse. And I’m sorry you saw me with—’
I hold up my hand, halting his apology. ‘It’s none of my business.’
‘It isn’t now.’ His eyes slide from mine, his fingers tentatively entwining with mine. Funny, but I feel nothing—not a twinge of excitement or a jolt of electricity. I literally feel nothing at all. ‘But I’d like it to be.’
‘I should head back,’ I answer. ‘Sir Lancelot will be waiting for his walk.’
