Page 6 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

The door to the pub was only a few meters away, and Oliver did his best to manifest its disappearance, even as it grew closer and closer. “You’re both lunatics, and I’ve been kidnapped. I’ll scream fire. I will.”

Rachel ignored him and jogged ahead, wrenching open the door of the pub and sauntering inside before he could stop her and the twins’ ridiculous plan. Quickly, he turned to Isaac in a silent plea, begging his friend with the largest puppy dog eyes he could muster, making sure to pop his dimples deep into his cheeks. Rachel couldn’t be manipulated, but with Isaac, he had a fraction of a chance.

“Olive, I love you so much, but that’s not going to work. Let’s go. You’re holding out on us, and we’d like an explanation as to who that Cambridge hottie was.” Isaac calmly ushered Oliver over the threshold and scanned the pub, looking for his sister. Eventually, he saw her head sticking out of a booth in the back, tucked out of the way. How she had managed to secure a table when the entire place was packed, Oliver had no clue, but he’d happily reap the benefits.

The pub was that of the traditional English variety. A carbon copy of hundreds any one person could find on the Isles. Dark hardwood floors bled into matching wooden booths, nestled against walls filled with old memorabilia. There were various caricatures of Winston Churchill scattered about, and Oliver’s fingers twitched, wanting to create his own to add to the collection. In the center of the pub was a square-shaped bar topped with taps on each side, glassware hanging above as bartenders floated behind its barriers.

Isaac gave him another nudge towards Rachel, and headed to get them all a pint while Oliver weaved his way through the other patrons towards the back of the room. Thankfully, there was a distinct lack of large athletes on the premises, so he at least had time to gather his thoughts while he plotted the murder of his friends.

He fell into the booth and leveled his best glare toward Rachel while she reciprocated the look in return, her elbows resting on the sticky table. She went straight for the jugular. “Spill, Catesby.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Oliver shot back.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and slouched back against the booth. “How about we have an honest conversation, hmm? I think you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Rach. He’s just some guy I knew as a kid. It’s nothing to get worked up over.”

A lie.

Isaac returned, three pints teetering between his fingers. “Sure, the way you two stared at each other was definitely giving ‘nothing to get worked up over’.”

Oliver took a long pull from the pint of Guinness, savoring its rich, coffee-like flavor. A Joy Division song was blaring through the speakers, and it did nothing to stop him from thinking about Jesse. A memory flashed before his eyes of two boys with beat up trainers sharing headphones at a dead end in the maze.

He took another drink and pretended to take in the atmosphere, but really he was diligently scanning the room for any sight of Jesse. “Rach, how could you possibly know that this is where the crew comes after a race?”

Rachel cocked her head. “I know people. Would you stop deflecting?”

The fight drained from Oliver’s body. He knew they weren’t going to let this go.

“When I was fifteen, my grandfather hired a consulting firm to do some appraisal work on a few assorted pieces at Chapman. The firm sent a man from Chicago, and he had a son my age who he brought along. His name was Jesse, and that’s who we saw at the race. We spent some time together. That’s all.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to confess the depths of the feelings he used to have for Jesse. He knew without a doubt that he could tell them anything and they’d understand, but there were memories of that summer he wanted to keep close to his chest. They belonged to him and Jesse, and to no one else.

“I haven’t seen him since, and I guess it took me by surprise after all this time.”

“So what’s the problem?” Isaac asked. “See if he shows up tonight, and chat him up. If you like him, get his number, maybe get laid. Live happily ever after.”

“The man’s built like a fucking God. Surely he’s seeing someone.”

The twins yet again turned to each other, silently conversing. Most days Oliver found it endearing, but right now, it only made him feel like an outsider.

“Stop! I’m right here. Stop doing that freaky twin thing and tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Well, speaking of seeing people. We couldn’t help but notice the, how should we put it…” Rachel’s voice trailed, and she looked to Isaac for help finishing her thought.

“We couldn’t help but notice that your love life has taken a bit of a nose dive. It’s nonexistent, Olive. I would go so far as to say that it’s rather sad,” Isaac finished.

Oliver shrugged and took another drink. “I don’t date much, that’s nothing new.”

“That may be true,” Rachel conceded. “However, you were seeing that really nice guy there for a while. The one who lived in the flat across the hall?”

Things with the guy across the hall, Christopher, had naturally fizzled over a year ago—and they were seemingly forgetting that he had gone on two dates with a guy he met at a coffee shop last month. Well, six months ago, but he had gone.

With one last longing glance at his watch, Oliver accepted his fate and mentally committed to taking the late train. “If you’re going to give me shit about my love life, I’m going to need another.”

Isaac was up in a flash. “On it.”

“Speaking of, how's the hunt for a flat coming?” Oliver asked, picking at some dried paint under his thumbnail. Rachel and Isaac were both moving to London shortly after graduation.