Now, a peach wine before him, a sweet aroma between us, and the Acropolis behind him. It could almost be like that again. How I wish it could be.
‘This is nice,’ I say to him, after a moment of silence.
‘It’s nice to see you.’ I think he means it.
‘Yeah.’ There’s lots I could say, want to say, but I shouldn’t. So, we both sip our drinks at the same time and listen to nearby conversations.
‘I wasn’t sure if you were going to come,’ Ollie says. ‘To the wedding.’
Me neither.
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘It’s just…’
But before he can continue, the waitress comes for the food order. Chicken souvlaki for Ollie, and grilled salmon for me.
Jazz music plays around us, an upbeat tempo that in any other situation would relax me. But my heartbeat is fast and the palm holding my wine glass, sweating.
‘Just what?’ I ask, breathlessly.
‘Well, we haven’t talked in so long, despite me trying after we saw each other in Cardiff,’ Ollie says. ‘Which was fucking awkward, by the way. I’d begun to think you didn’t want me as a friend anymore.’
‘Oh.’
Ollie gives me a sheepish look. ‘Do you?’
‘Do I what?’
‘Want to be friends?’
I know he doesn’t mean it as a challenge, but why does it feel like the hardest question? Like an elaborate mathematical question?
‘I didn’t realise we needed to text every night to be friends.’
Ollie chuckles, breaking out into a smile, the first thing I ever noticed about him. ‘You know it doesn’t, but it’s a little more than that, Will. You haven’t replied to any of my texts, and when you do they’re short. You’d always put off us meeting up for a coffee.’
‘You haven’t texted me in ages.’ Before seeing him in Waterstones, or even after. At least, not as much as I would have liked.
Ollie murmurs his agreement. ‘Because you stopped replying. There was nothing from your end. It always felt like I had to try.’
The waitress materialises again, cutting off his exasperation by supplying bread for the table. We speak again when she leaves.
‘You were busy. With Alec. I didn’t want to be texting you when you’ve got an Alec.’
‘He’s not like that.’
‘Then why doesn’t he know about me, Ol?’
Ollie averts his eyes. And my God, it hurts. Where is the honesty? The openness we used to have?
‘We have this rule not to talk about past lovers.’
‘But we spent years together.’ I worry I sound pathetic. ‘We were best friends.’
‘And yet you ignore me.’
It feels like a jab, one that hurts because it’s true.
