The One We Fell in Love With (31 page)

‘Hi!’ I put my guitar down and hop to my feet, going to greet Rose first before turning to Angus.

‘Hey,’ he says, and he gives me a slightly awkward hug before retreating. My heart sinks, but I try not to let it show, taking the glass Michelle hands me.

‘Cheers.’ I raise my soft drink.

‘Empty-handed,’ Angus replies with a smile, holding his palms up. ‘We were just on our way to the bar.’

‘Toby’s there,’ Rose reminds him. The three of them came together. ‘I’ll help him. See you after?’ she asks me.

‘Definitely. Hopefully I’ll be able to relax more then.’

Michelle makes herself scarce along with Rose, so Angus and I find ourselves alone.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, pulling up a chair and sitting down. He rests his elbows on his knees.

‘Nervous,’ I admit, picking up my guitar again. I’ve already tuned it and it doesn’t need doing again, but I feel like I want something to hide behind.

‘Would you rather I left you to get your head together?’ he asks with concern.

‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘No, I’m glad you’re here,’ I state firmly.

He smiles a small smile, and I have an urge to put my guitar down, climb onto his lap, push his hair back from his face and kiss him.

‘You look beautiful,’ he says earnestly.

I glance down at my appearance, self-consciously. ‘Really? I wasn’t sure if I should go with something more colourful.’ I’m wearing a long-sleeve, sheer-black, floaty top
that is fitted under my chest and bares my midriff, along with skinny dark blue jeans and silver sandals. I’ve styled my hair in a single fishtail plait.

‘Black suits you. And I like your hair like that, too.’

The look in his eyes melts my heart. I prop my guitar up against the wall and lean forward, running my right hand up his tanned forearm. He catches my fingers with his other hand and pulls me
towards him, and then I’m where I wanted to be a moment earlier, straddling his lap and staring straight into his beautiful mottled eyes. He places his hands on my hips and edges me
closer.

‘I missed you,’ he whispers.

‘I missed you, too,’ I whisper back, stroking my thumbs down the side of his warm face and raking my fingers through his sexy dark-blond hair. He stares back at me.

There’s a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ I call, stifling a sigh. I’m a little shocked when I see it’s Joe, not Michelle. I clamber off Angus’s lap and straighten up, but Joe just looks
tickled.

‘Angus, right?’

They shake hands and he turns back to me.

‘I just wanted to say hi. Is there anything you need?’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you,’ I say with a tense smile.

Angus presses my shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

I watch him go with regret, but it’s time to psyche myself up, anyway.

Rose

‘Actually, can you make mine a vodka and cranberry?’ I say to Toby, changing my order from wine at the last moment.

‘Is this going to be messy like last time?’ he asks me when the bargirl has gone off to get our drinks.

‘I hope not,’ I scoff.

‘Shame,’ he says, glancing north of my forehead to my admittedly looser-than-normal up-do. ‘I liked it when you let your hair down.’

I cringe. ‘I thought you thought I was out of control.’

‘You were. You were fun,’ he says with amusement.

‘Oh God, am I one of those people who are only fun when they’re drunk?’ I moan. ‘I’m a right bore most of the time.’

He grins at me. ‘No, you’re not.’

His expression is full of warmth and the seconds tick by as he meets my gaze. I raise my eyebrows at him as the bargirl returns with our drinks.

Angus chooses that moment to join us, and it’s just as well, because the look in Toby’s eyes is unsettling me.

‘Aah, cheers for that,’ Angus says, picking up his pint and downing a third of it.

‘How’s Eliza?’ I ask, trying to make casual conversation, even though I feel anything but.

‘She’s alright.’ He spies some people he knows. ‘Hey, Stewart!’ he calls. ‘Evan!’

‘Shall we move closer to the stage?’ I ask Toby, feeling a little skittish.

‘Sure,’ he replies, but then Angus comes back over with his colleagues from work: Stewart, whose dad owns the bar, and Evan, who looks like he’s just got back from holiday,
judging by his impressive tan. I discover he works on the newspaper’s travel desk.

After chatting for a while, we all move towards the stage together. When Eliza appears, the noise around the bar area dies down, but not completely. She sounds cool, calm and collected as she
introduces herself over the sound system, and I feel a swell of pride as she starts to strum her guitar. She leans in close to the microphone to sing. She has a beautiful voice, soulful and
expressive, and her lyrics are clever and quirky. There are a few chuckles from around us as she sings a punch-line, rewarding her audience with a charming grin.

I cast a glance at Angus. He’s staring up at Eliza, his face alight with some emotion. I’m taken back to a time in our early twenties when Phoebe and Angus were together again after
their year-and-a-half hiatus. I’d gone to visit Phoebe at university and Angus was there. She took part in a rock climbing competition and he stood at the bottom of the rock wall and watched
her scale the heights. He was so proud when she won. He was so full of love. And those are the emotions I’m witnessing on his face right now.

He loved Phoebe. And he loves Eliza. It must be possible to love two people at once, because the proof is right here in front of me.

Toby nudges me, and I welcome the distraction because I’m on the verge of tears. ‘She’s good,’ he says, impressed.

‘Yes.’ I nod, still trying to control my emotions. ‘She is.’

It’s not too late for us. At times, Eliza and I have felt like the worst of enemies, but we could be the best of friends. If only we can stop taking each other for granted.

I’m pretty tipsy by the time Eliza joins us later, and she seems entertained as I throw my arm around her neck.

‘I’m not saying this because I’m drunk,’ I say, hanging off her. ‘But I am really, really proud of you.’

‘Aw, thanks Rose,’ she replies. She is totally sober.

‘I mean it!’ I exclaim. ‘And Angus is proud, too. You should have seen his face when he was looking up at you. He really loves you.’

She stares back at me, suddenly serious.

‘Look at you two,’ Joe interrupts. ‘Are you sure you can’t sing, love?’ he asks me.

I shake my head and giggle.

‘Ready to be introduced?’ he asks Eliza.

She looks nervous as they move away together. Angus comes to stand by my side.

‘What do you think of Evan?’ he asks.

‘Oh.’ I furrow my brow as I stare past Angus to his colleague in question. ‘Yeah, he’s alright.’

‘Don’t sound too enthusiastic,’ he jokes with a grin.

‘I’m leaving in a couple of days. There’s no point.’

‘What happened to,’ and he affects my voice: ‘“To be honest, Gus, I could really just do with a shag”.’

I whack him on his stomach and he doubles over, laughing.

‘What was that about?’ Toby asks as I turn away, mock disgusted.

‘Angus is trying to set me up.’

‘With who?’ he asks.

‘Evan.’ Pause. ‘I’m not interested.’ I glance up to see Toby studying me. He’s certainly very confident with his eye contact, I muse. It makes him seem
older.

Eliza joins us again after a while and plays catch-up by doing a couple of shots at the bar. She and Angus seem so relaxed in each other’s company. It’s bizarre for me, witnessing
the reality of their relationship when they’ve both let down their defences. I feel like I have to realign my perspective. They laugh a lot and they’re very tactile with each other
– I’m not entirely comfortable with it, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it with time. I have to.

No, I want to.

‘I’d like to go dancing,’ I find myself announcing towards closing time.

‘Do you want to hit a club?’ Toby asks. ‘Jase and I went to a place last Saturday that was pretty cool.’

His friend from London came to stay with him last weekend.

‘Yeah! Let’s see if the others are up for it.’

‘Really?’ Eliza asks with astonishment when I make the suggestion.

‘Why not?’ I reply.

She turns to Toby and prods his chest. ‘What have you done to my sister?’

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

‘So are you coming or not?’ I demand to know.

Eliza glances at Angus. He gives her a meaningful look and she turns back to me.

‘No,’ she says.

‘Are you sure?’ And then it dawns on me. ‘Aah. You’re going to have an early night, aren’t you?’

She shifts on her feet. ‘Maybe.’

In that case, I might see her in the morning. I’m not sure how I’ll feel about that, but right now I’m too drunk to care.

The club is full of youngsters and I have second thoughts as I wait for Toby to come back from the bar. I spied a vacant booth and made a beeline for it, to his amusement, but
I can see him from here. He looks so comfortable, so chilled. He fits right in with this crowd. His ripped denim jeans sit low on his narrow hips, held up with a chunky black belt. He’s
wearing a black T-shirt that must’ve shrunk in the wash with the way it’s riding up at his side. The skin of his waist is exposed as his body twists to lean against the bar top.

He really is sexy.

The girls to his right seem to think so, too. I watch as one of them, a beautiful girl with long dark hair turns to say something to him. He smiles and answers, and then he’s being
served.

The bargirl is young and sexy, too, and she stares at him with a smile as she listens to his order.

What am I doing here?
I think suddenly. I don’t belong. I should be tucked up in bed.

And then I remember that Eliza is probably back at the apartment with Angus and I’m not sure I can cope with that, yet, either.

The next thing I know, Toby is returning to our table.

‘I feel like I’m cramping your style,’ I say as he slides in next to me. I must’ve sobered up because I can’t imagine joining the sweaty throng on the dance floor
now.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asks, baffled.

‘Those girls up at the bar. You could’ve been in there. But instead you’re keeping the old age pensioner company.’

‘Jesus,’ he mutters, his eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Rose,’ he says loudly, swivelling on the booth seat to face me. ‘Cut it out.’

‘Sorry, but I’m almost a decade older than you!’

‘No, you’re not,’ he scoffs. ‘You’re six years older – that’s closer to half a decade.’

‘I’m twenty-eight and you’re twenty-one. That’s seven years.’

‘I’m twenty-two soon. I round it down.’

‘It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right, I shouldn’t be so bothered about it.’

‘Why
are
you so bothered?’ he asks me outright.

‘I don’t know.’ I shrug, wanting to change the subject. ‘So dish the dirt, then. Did you pull when you came here last weekend?’ I try to sound more nonchalant than
I feel, but the truth is I’ve been dying to ask all week.

He shakes his head. ‘No.’

I pick up my drink and take a large gulp, trying to regain my earlier buzz. I’m thinking too much, and his close proximity tonight is making me inexplicably nervous.

‘Have you always gone out with guys the same age as you?’ he asks.

I sense that we’re crossing into dangerous territory, given the undercurrent prevailing between us, but I find myself answering.

‘No,’ I reply. ‘My last boyfriend was eight years older than me. And that was a mistake.’

‘Because he was older?’

‘No, because he was a tosser.’ I take another sip of my drink. ‘What about you?’

‘All but one of my girlfriends have been older than me.’

‘Really?’ My voice sounds squeaky. ‘How much older?’

He shrugs. ‘When I was eleven, my first girlfriend was twelve. When I was fifteen, I went out with a girl two years older, and at seventeen, my girlfriend was three years older than
me.’

‘Wow.’

‘And then when I was twenty-one, she was six-and-a-bit years older,’ he says with a smirk, taking a sip of his beer and regarding me out of the corner of his eyes.

Wait. ‘What?’ I splutter, then I roll my eyes, realising he’s teasing me.

‘Drink up, let’s go and dance.’ He nods at my vodka and cranberry.

Bugger it. I down it in one and plonk my glass back on the table. He slides out of the booth and leads the way.

The drink has gone straight to my head, but I am still all too aware of the female attention Toby is receiving as he makes his way through the crowds. If he notices, he doesn’t show
it.

Luckily a song I recognise comes on as we approach the dance floor, and it’s not too long before my self-consciousness fades away and I start to enjoy myself. It helps that Toby is a great
dancer. After about half an hour or so, he puts his hand on my waist, his touch scorching the skin under my top.

‘Drink?’ he asks in my ear, pulling away to look into my eyes.

I nod, feeling suddenly feverish, as well as hot and sweaty.

‘Back in a sec.’

He goes off to the bar, leaving me on the dance floor alone. Bizarrely, I don’t mind. It’s only taken me twenty-eight years, but I seem to have finally lost my inhibitions.

Scrap that
, I think, less than a minute later when I rouse the attention of a couple of wasted lads. One of them starts to gyrate his way towards me, but I dance in the opposite
direction before he can make contact. It doesn’t put him off, unfortunately, and I begin to feel uncomfortable as they move closer. This goes on for a while – them circling me and me
trying to move away – and then, to my immense relief, I see Toby approaching. He doesn’t have any drinks on him and he looks annoyed, and then suddenly a pair of hot sweaty hands land
on my hips and one of the guys gyrates right up against my arse. I’m disgusted.

‘Oi!’ Toby shouts, wrenching me away from his sweaty grasp. He shoves the drunken offender hard on his chest. ‘Leave her alone!’ he yells, turning back to me. ‘You
alright? I saw them from the bar.’