‘That’s me.’ He peers at me now, and I don’t care if he can’t place me. It must be years since we’ve last seen each other. He’s climbed into the body of a ripped man but he still has that kind face, the curious air to him. He’s sprouted so much he must be at least six foot five. He was always taller than me, once slim and lanky, like Mike TV after he goes through the wringer in the chocolate factory. Now he’s a Hemsworth brother.
‘You don’t remember me?’ I ask. ‘Pokémon champion of Ponty primary, 2002?’
His eyes widen.
‘William Cooper? Is that you?’
‘The very same.’ Extending my hand was a bad idea. My bag moves, and I’m definitely tenting in these joggers. What a day not to wear underwear. His eyes dart, quickly averting, as I move my bag back with haste.
Samuel Greer just saw the outline of my hard dick.
As he shakes my hand, my Apple Watch pings, notifying me of a quickened heart rate.
‘I go by Will now.’
‘And I’m Sam,’ Sam says.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Sam?’
‘I could say the same about you. What has it been, like, twenty-five years?’
‘Not quite. You up and left after we won the championship.’
By championship, I mean a primary school class competition to determine who could catch the most Pokémon on our Gameboys. Our classmates got bored, but Sam and I competed with one another until we both completed the game at the same time. Technically, I beat the final league trainer before him, but I was nice and shared the title. We’d caught them all, as the game encouraged. We’d boasted to the school that we were masters, and for a day or two, people cared. We were the celebrities of the playground. Then someone won a football game, and we were the nerds who restarted our Pokémon games and played again.
Then, one day, I found out Sam had left. I remember locking myself in my room for the entire weekend, and I definitely did not cry. I had something in my eyes. Losing Sam, my closest friend, felt like the end of the world. I hadn’t felt that feeling again until Ollie left me.
Another beep of a horn. It’s the taxi driver getting back on the road. ‘I got it running again.’
I run forwards. ‘Then let me?—’
But he’s going, going, gone. Leaving me stranded.
‘Bloody hell.’
‘Your taxi driver?’
I hold my hands out in exasperation. ‘Was my taxi driver.’
Sam rubs the back of his neck, giving me a glimpse of the hair under his arm.
‘You live in Athens?’
‘The very one.’ Sam beams, pointing at the coffee van behind him. ‘Family business.’
‘Coffee?’
‘Coffee.’
‘I could murder a coffee right now.’
He points to my arm, and with horror, I spot blood trickling down my skin.
‘Oh my God, am I dying?’
Sam chuckles. ‘No, but I wouldn’t make a habit of falling into bushes like those. They’re lethal. Come on, let’s get you back to mine and clean you up.’
He makes for his white van, keys in hand, his broad back now in my eyesight.
