‘Not to mention the amazing stories, the new experiences... You’re learning what you like and what you don’t, and exposing yourself to so many different kinds of people.’
The sun starts to dip lower, the soft pink dipping into a burnt amber and casting a deep orange light across our faces. The chatter around us mutes with the colouring as more people head back down the mountain, satisfied with the sunset.
‘Is that what you like about dating? Learning about all the different kinds of people?’ I ask him.
It would make sense for Noah; he lives and breathes socialising. He pauses to think.
‘I suppose it’s one of the things I like.’
‘And the other things?’ I ask.
His lips twitch mischievously.
‘You know the other thing,’ he says gruffly. ‘You experienced it firsthand on a late-night train here, actually.’
I feel a sticky warmth pool in the pit of my stomach as images of him inside me start to resurface. I’ve been trying to fend them off since it happened, but even more so since talking to Nigel. I snap my head back to the view.
‘Do you think we need a new rule? No talking about our little night together?’ I ask.
‘Okay, firstly, please don’t use the word “little” when referring toanythingthat night.’ He smiles. It’s contagious. I hate that it’s contagious. ‘And secondly, no, I think it’s more fun to keep the memory alive.’
The thought of him actually wanting to keep it alive makes my heart glow in time with the sun. I look out again, taking in the apricot-bathed rooftops and swirls of ember that start to fade from the sky.
‘Okay, fine, fair enough,’ I agree. ‘But that’s it? Sex and stories? That’s all you like about dating?’
‘You make me sound so uncouth,’ he tuts. ‘Of course there’s more I like, but it’s not exactly the easiest thing to put into words.’
He pauses again, and out of the corner of my eye I can see him follow my gaze to the city below us.
‘There’s this moment, you know, when a date’s going well and the two of you are really vibing, where suddenly nothing else matters and no one else exists. You become this weird kind of unit, like this... bubble, and you float in it together and lock into each other’s eyes, and everything feels brighter. Any topic of conversation, as mundane as it may be, becomes this inside joke. You realise that no one will experience what you two are experiencing in that same way, ever again. You’re the first to have done it and the only ones that can. I think that’s pretty cool.’
He takes a breath, the usual bravado of his stare pulling back to reveal something more vulnerable. It’s a side of Noah that I’ve only seen in brief, fleeting glimpses. Now, here it is, out here in the open on this bench.
‘Do you feel that on every date?’ I ask.
What he described seems too rare, too lyrical, to feel with every single person you meet. But if anyone could, it wouldabsolutely be Noah. He’s the kind of person who makes you better just by being around him.
He shakes his head. ‘No, not at all. That’s how you know it’s special.’
His hand trembles ever so slightly as he lifts his cup to his mouth. He takes a deep, emphatic swallow and keeps his eyes on the sky, fixing them to the curve of the sloping sun.
‘I felt it with you,’ he says, voice deep and timid.
I gulp, heart stilling. ‘Yeah, I felt it too.’
I thought I was alone. I thought I was the only one who could tell that this meantmorefrom day one.
‘And El.’ He shakes his head. ‘That’s why I went along with it and kissed her, even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do.’
He runs his hand through his hair, eyes clamping shut once again as he runs the scenes of the El mess through his head on a loop. That whole thing really got to him. I knew it did at the time, but I didn’t realise it would leave such a lasting impression.
I reach out and touch his arm, bringing him back to this moment. His eyes flick open and I pray it’s halted the thoughts running through his head.
‘Hey. We all make mistakes. You owned it, you moved on... no harm, no foul.’ I whisper it softly and wait for him to relax, to process, to agree. But instead, he stays balled up in his nerves and doubts. He glances down at his shoes before speaking again.
‘We’ve been texting.’
I can’t process it. ‘What? Who’s we?’
