‘And he’s Greek,’ Sam adds.
We all look at him.
‘Well, we’ll be going, then,’ Alec says. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk so much when we have seating arrangements to plan tomorrow. Will, thanks again for everything.’
Bloody seating arrangements. ‘Anytime.’
Ollie rubs Alec’s shoulder. ‘We’ll be in touch with details.’
‘Oh, great.’
As they walk away, all loved-up, Sam’s tender touch makes me fall back into his arms. They wrap around me, and we sway together, staring out into the night and the quietness of the street. We hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but conversation between the four of us flowed nicely, mostly led by Alec.
‘I hate that he’s nice.’
‘You’re supposed to be supportive.’
‘I know.’
Sam kisses my cheek, before stepping away and heading upstairs.
I lock the coffee shop door, tracing my hand over the flecked paint on the door. Staying any longer is a bad idea, right? And yet, I want to find Sam. Be with Sam. I don’t want to ever leave.
I leave the coffee shop, climbing the stairs, emerging into Sam’s apartment, where he’s putting the last dish in the dishwasher.
He exhales when he sees me.
‘Thanks for tonight.’
‘No need to thank me,’ Sam says.
The candles still flicker on the empty dining table, the only source of light in the dark apartment, except for a dim yellowstreet lamp outside. It’s cosy here, cool from the air conditioning unit. Sam pours me another wine, which I gladly savour.
What does Sam gain from doing this for me? Getting involved in something that meant nothing to him just days ago. He supported me when I needed it. I guess that’s what real friends do, no matter how much time has passed.
‘Sam, did you mean it?’
‘Mean what?’
‘What you said the other day. About us being boyfriends?’
Sam pours himself a glass of wine. ‘It depends. How do you feel about him?’
‘You know how I feel.’
Sam gestures, wine dangerously close to spilling. ‘Things went well tonight. You sure you’re okay with him getting married to someone else?’
‘Let’s talk.’
We take our wines to the sofa, the candlelight casting our shadows on the brick walls. We’re inches away from one another, our knees almost touching.
‘I don’t want Ollie anymore, Sam. It’s shameful how long it has taken me to realise the truth. Ever since you and I spoke, all I can think about is you. You and what you might mean to me. What you could be.’
Sam leans forwards. ‘And what, exactly, could I be to you, Will?’
‘What do you want to be, Sam?’
I meet him halfway, resting my lips with delicate precision upon his own. He reaches for me, pulls me closer, kissing me harder. His touch, like static to me, has me uttering a small groan.
