I shift a little closer to her to get both our heads fully into the frame.
It’s ridiculous how well we seem to fit together, like we were made to shoot selfie videos as a pair.
I press the red button just before she looks up at me, smiling, and asks, ‘Ready?’
‘Already recording,’ I reply, smiling back, because her smile is infectious again.
She rolls her eyes slightly. ‘Then… start again.’
I laugh, and then realise that I’m still recording. I pull my eyes from hers – when you look at them properly you realise just what a stunning and unusual shade of green they are, and there’s something about the shape of them, and the way her eyelashes and brows frame them that it’s hard not to just stare at – and press the button again.
‘Aaaaand go?’ Nadia suggests.
I swallow. ‘Yep.’
And we’re off again. She repeats her little voice message and then we sing. This time, I can hear that I’m not keeping the tune anywhere remotely near the actual one. I try not to laugh but fail, and then Nadia begins to laugh too but carries on singing. (I’ve given up.) I wrap my arm round her shoulders and stand there grinning as she continues to the end, making ‘Happy Birthday’ sound like the most amazing musical composition ever (she sticks in some gorgeous twirly operatic bits at the end).
‘Honestly,’ she says, still laughing, when she’s finished, and then I stop recording. ‘Do you think there’s any chance that worked?’
‘Worth checking?’ I hold the screen so that we can both see it and press play.
It looks like an amateur video of a woman who could be a professional singer saying a few lovely words and then making ‘Happy Birthday’ sound incredible while her boyfriend attempts to join in and fails and just stands there looking at her adoringly.
That’s what it looks like.
There’s quite a long pause, and then I say, ‘It’s perfect. She’ll love it as is. No need for any more recordings I think. Thank you.’
‘Absolutely no problem at all,’ Nadia replies extremely politely. ‘I’m only sorry I have to be in New Zealand and can’t make the party.’
‘Ha,’ I say, also very politely.
‘Sooo, I should probably get going.’ Nadia glances up at me as she speaks.
I’m looking down at her as she moves her head and now we’re kind of hovering, just staring at each other. I sense her chest move as she takes a deep breath and find myself swallowing in response.
I could so easily just lean a little closer, brush my lips against her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, gather her into my arms, where I already know she fits very well.
It would be so easy.
I’m so very tempted.
I can’t move from where I am now. It’s taking so much energy to stop myself doing any of the things I want to do, like taking my finger and gently moving the few strands of her hair that have blown against her face, or, obviously, just kissing her to high heaven, that I don’t have any left for working my legs or feet.
She has her lips slightly parted and is gazing as hard as I am.
When her eyes move from mine to my mouth and then to my throat, I find myself swallowing so hard I feel it through my whole body.
And I realise how very much I would like to feelherbody against mine. Starting with a kiss, and then…
That would be an extreme instance of short-term gratification destroying a great friendship, though.
How often do you have such an instant fantastic friendship with someone?
She isn’t Lola. She isn’t the kind of woman I usually go for. She’s myfriend.
And I would do very well to remember that.
I try very, very hard to gather myself. It feels like I’m making more physical – or mental, I’m not really sure which now – effort than two years ago when I had to pull out of the London Marathon in the last mile. (Iknowwithout asking that Nadia would say that she could never do a marathon, but she absolutely could, even with blisters.)
