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I make a grand entrance back at the sofa, and give Cass a bow.
“Oh my God!” she exclaims. “That’s amazing!”
I give her a twirl, showing the tails of the jacket in full glory.
“Doesn’t look quite so amazing these days with my dad bod,” I chuckle, and she laughs.
“You’re hardly a dad bod!”
“I’m hardly a wiry Ant type, Cass,” I joke, but she shakes her head.
“That makes no difference whatsoever. You’re not a skinny guy, no, but you’re hardly big, and even if you were, it wouldn’t make any difference. You’re cute as hell.”
“Even in a daft prince costume?”
“Especially in a daft prince costume.”
I love how genuine she is, grinning like she means it. It gives me a rush of happiness that drowns out my humorous embarrassment, and I feel more assured in my own skin than I’ve felt in years. I’m always a confident guy during meetings or giving presentations, when the focus is on my words and not on me, but I don’t exactly see myself as a male model candidate.
“You’re absolute husband material, you know that?” Cass says, and it gives me another rush of a glow.
“Really? That’s quite a compliment.”
“Very deserved,” she says. “God, Gerwyn, if I wasn’t with Ant, I’d happily marry you myself!”
She giggles, but I don’t. I feel utterly taken aback by her words, even though they were meant in jest.
“Wow. That’s an even bigger compliment,” I tell her, and she nods.
“Also very deserved, since you’re amazing. I’m so happy we met. Not only are you an incredible friend, but you’re a wizard with cupcakes and coffee.”
We grin at each other, and it’s a beautiful solidarity of friendship, even so soon.
Or it is until I feel it – that pang. I get a fateful lurch in my stomach, just below my ribcage…
It’s Cass’s smile. Her laugh. The kindness in her eyes.
It’s her.
She’s still smiling so naturally, but I feel off balance. I back away with a stupid, goofy grin and point to the stairs.
“I’d best get out of this thing, before I trip over these stupid shoes.”
“That’s a shame,” she says, then points to my half-eaten dinner on the table. “Still, not sure it’s the best outfit for eating pizza in.”
The slices of pizza left in the box feel a world away as I retreat to ditch the costume and get back into my chinos. My heart is racing as I dress back to normal, and I take some deep breaths, determined this sensation in me is just fleeting. Just friendship. Just enjoying someone’s company over a fun takeout night.
Yes, it is. Definitely. I sigh to myself, because of course it’s just having a good time with a friend. Nothing more than that.
But I’m lying.
When I get downstairs and drop back onto the sofa I feel like my cheeks must be burning red, but Cass doesn’t seem to notice. She’s chatting away about old movies and which ones we need to watch together, and how she’s going to grab a batch of cupcakes from the bakery opposite Wedding Bliss that she knows we’ll enjoy.
I grin and laugh and join in, but I can’t stop it. I can’t stop looking at the sparkle in her face, getting that same lurch inside me every time I hear her laugh.
We’re slumped, full to bursting and tired by the time we’re done with the pizza. I pour the last of the bottle of soave between our glasses, and take the final sips, knowing I should be getting to bed. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave the sofa and I don’t want to leave Cass’s laugh behind.
It’s her who looks at the time and says crap when she realises it’s long past midnight. I join in with the same oh yes, crap surprise, but I don’t want it to be oh yes, crap, let’s get to bed. I want it to be a five a.m. finish kind of conversation like the ones I enjoyed so much with Jo.
“You’d better get upstairs,” I say to Cass, and pick up my cigarettes from the coffee table. “I’m going to have one last smoke and I’ll be heading up myself.”
I’ve only had two cigarettes since finishing swimming, which is a revelation in itself. Nicotine has been far from my mind while I’ve been chatting and munching on takeout.
Cass waves goodnight, taking our pizza boxes and glasses out with her as she makes her exit. I watch her as I grab my lighter, hating how the lurch in my stomach comes again.
My heart is still racing when I step out through the rear doors. I curse myself as I light up a cigarette with the view of Malvern glittering down below, because I can’t feel like this. I shouldn’t feel like this. Out of all the people I could possibly get an affectionate lurch in my gut over, she’s the most forbidden person on the list.
