“Of course,” Oliver says with a smirk.
I turn toward him, curious. “You have a usual?”
“Sure does,” Jamie says, laughing. “Pie and lager, every day, even when we were just young lads.” He leans toward me. “What’ll you have, love?”
“Hmm.” I tilt my head back and forth. “I guess I’ll have the Oliver Bradshaw special too.”
Jamie smiles and heads to grab the beers, leaving Oliver and me to find two stools at the end of the bar. It’s crowded in the pub, but no one even bats an eye that Oliver is here. There are no whispers, no one subtly taking photos. It’s just a local pub, and he’s just a local boy.
I lean back and watch how comfortable he is here. It’s like he knows where to stand when the draft sneaks in under the door, or which chair has uneven legs. I know he loves football and being on the pitch, but this town seems like freedom for him. No one demands answers from him, or expects him to be something he isn’t.
“Got into a fight over in that corner,” he says, pointing beyond a shadowed booth.
“Oh, yeah? Over a girl?” I ask, and immediately wish I hadn’t. For some reason, I don’t want the answer to that.
“No,” he says, laughing like the idea of it being over a girl is ridiculous. “Over football.”
We eat our lunch, drink our pints, and get lost in conversation. People come and go past the bar, some of them quietly waving, some patting him on the shoulder. No one treats him like a famous footballer. He’s just their former student, their neighbor, or the kid who delivered their newspaper. It’s completely disarming. I realize how rare this is for him, to be recognized but not followed. To belong without being scrutinized.
“You really love it here, don’t you?” I ask softly after we order a second round of drinks.
“I do.” He glances over at me, smiling. “It’s home. It’s the only place where everything just feels… I don’t know, simple.”
I nod. “Yeah. I get that.”
But truthfully, I don’t get it. I grew up in the same apartment with my parents in New York City, but I never felt like things were simple there. And they certainly weren’t simple when I was living with Matt. I’ve never been in a place that makes me feel grounded. Not like this.
He glances at me, studying my face. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I just…” I shrug, searching for the words. “I don’t know. I think I envy this sense of peace you find here. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that somewhere before?”
“Not even back in New York?”
“God, no.” I laugh, shaking my head. “New York is constant chaos. It’s packed to the gills with people, but no one sees you. You could disappear in plain sight. Here… it’s so different. It’s just… real. It makes me wonder if…” My throat tightens, a thought sits heavy in my chest that I hadn’t considered before.
“Wonder what?”
“Maybe that’s why I set that rule for myself. Rule Two. Never stay in one job longer than a year. I told myself it was ambition, and to never let myself feel small again. But maybe… maybe it’s because I haven’t found a place that feels like home yet.”
“You’ll find it,” he says softly. Then he slides off his stool.“I’m gonna use the loo. Will you be alright for a moment?”
I smirk. “Yeah, I think I’ll survive.”
Oliver smiles and heads off. I watch as he weaves through the pub, nodding to a man playing pool, shaking the hand of another as he heads toward the bathroom. I zone out for a moment, just taking in the sights and smells of the pub. The sound of glasses clinking, the laughter, the banter.
“So,” Jamie says, pulling my focus back to the bar. “How long have you and Oliver been seeing each other?”
I freeze for a second, my mind stumbling over the words. “Oh, um… we’re just, uh… we’re friends. We work together.”
“Right.” Jamie raises an eyebrow. “I just thought maybe it was more because he’s never brought a girl home to Stratton Wood before.” He gives me a quick grin, like he knows we’re just friends but wanted to slip me that information somehow.
“Definitely just friends,” I say again. My words feel stiff, like I’m trying to convince myself.
“Ah, my mistake then,” Jamie says with a shrug. “He’s a good bloke, you know. One of the best, really. He’s been through enough.”
That last statement feels like a warning. It’s like a plea, not even from Jamie, but from this whole town, not to hurt him.
Before I can say anything, Oliver heads out from the bathroom and leans casually against the bar.
