“Look, I love living with my parents, I’m not embarrassed and I’m saving money.” Then she turned to Rocco. “And yes, sometimes my mum does still make me a packed lunch. She’s an amazing cook, and it’s healthier than buying a store-bought sandwich every day.” She paused, looking back and forth between them. “And, glad as I am that Rick Astley’s stylist is no longer out of work, if you boys are coming punting, do try not to fall in. I think the combined product in your hair might wipe out the river’s ecosystem.”
A flicker of laughter came from the next table and Chloe turned to see John sitting with his friend Freya. He quickly looked away, pretending to stir his tea with a serious expression, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Rocco frowned, and Colin ran a self-conscious hand over his perfectly shellacked hair. Chloe felt a small flicker of victory. Maybe having her life judged wasn’t so bad, just so long as it was to her face and she had the right quip ready.
“Right, we’ll see you boys on the river,” she said, as she finished her breakfast and got up to go. As they left, Rob held out a fist toward Rocco, his attempt at a fist bump, but he misjudged it, thrusting his fist too close to Rocco’s face, which caused Rocco to lurch back, toppling off the bench and onto the floor.
“All right, psycho!” Rocco cried. “He tried to hit me!”
“My apologies, I was attempting a fist bump,” Rob said, reaching out a hand to help Rocco up.
“He struggles with spatial awareness sometimes,” Chloe muttered, conscious that people at the other tables were staring at them now.
“You got a chip missing or something, mate?” Colin asked, standing and squaring up to Rob.
“Not that I’m aware,” Rob said earnestly.
This conversation was not going anywhere good. Chloe quickly pulled on Rob’s arm, signaling they should leave, but as she turned, her eyes fell back on John at the next table. He was watching this play out with his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. But while everyone else’s attention was on Rob or Rocco, his gaze was locked on Chloe.
13
“I’m sorry about what happenedat breakfast,” Rob said, apologizing again as they strolled hand in hand down the high street toward Magdalen Bridge.
“Don’t worry about it, it was just a misunderstanding,” she said. “Everyone knows what Rocco’s like, no one will blame you.” She tried to shrug it off; she didn’t want it ruining their day. Though she made a mental note to send feedback to Avery that Rob could do with a little humor refinement, if such an upgrade was available.
It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, the sky a cerulean blue, and the gold stone of the buildings shone with their distinctive Oxford hue. Chloe had dressed for punting, in a striped Breton top and cream pedal pushers. Rob squeezed her hand. “Iwonder if anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember.”
Her smile dropped slightly. He had said that before.
“Is that poetry?” she asked.
“Yeats,” he said, and she nodded.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, though she liked the sentiment slightly less now that she knew they weren’t his words. “Is there anything you want to do while we’re here, anything you want to see?” she asked him.
“I’m happy to do whatever you want to do,” he said, then, perhaps sensing her flicker of disappointment, he added, “But if there’s time, maybe we could explore some of the old bookshops you were telling me about?”
“Great,” she said, with a genuine smile now.
“And I’d like to try fish and chips.”
“Fish and chips?” she asked. “You’ve never had fish and chips?”
“Nope. It’s a gap in my education.”
“Okay, we can fix that,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
When they reached the bridge, they could see the punts below, lined up like sleeping wooden crocodiles. Chloe inhaled the familiar smell of sun-warmed ropes and the slightly sour smell of algae and riverweed emanating from the mud-stirred water. Elaine was already down on the bank, marshaling everyone with military precision, and they could hear laughter and lighthearted squabbles as people worked out who would punt and who would be passenger.
“How are your punting skills then, Fairway, still terrible?” said a voice beside her. She turned to see Sean and smiled.
“Sean, this is Rob; Rob, Sean.”
Sean extended a hand toward Rob, then said, “Loved your dancing last night.”
“Thank you,” Rob replied. “I’ve heard so much about you from Chloe, it’s good to finally meet you.”
“All good I hope?”
“Eighty-two percent good,” Rob said. Chloe shot him a frown, but Sean only laughed.
