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“So you’re in love with the idea of love? What does that mean exactly?” He chuckles.
His laugh is contagious, his smile so open and honest that I can’t help but smile back. It’s true what I said. I am a hopeless romantic and with the honesty he’s given me, I have no doubt that if Crow weren’t a factor, I would be able to easily forget the arrangement and very genuinely try.
“It means that I have spent years reading romance novels and have always been desperate to have someone love me the way the characters in my favourite stories love each other. I’ve always wanted that overwhelming, empowering, all consuming love that takes you by surprise.” It makes me feel vulnerable admitting that, and I’m not completely sure why. Maybe because love isn’t something that I talk about often with anyone aside from family, or maybe it’s because Victor is practically a stranger, and yet I feel more comfortable than I imagined telling him whatever comes to mind.
“Is that how you and Crow feel about one another?”
“I don’t really know. We haven’t spoke about how we feel. I know how I feel and I know that I do love him, but up until not so long ago that was just as a friend. I know that the feelings I have snuck up on me slowly over time, which isn’t really the love I always dreamed of, but he makes me feel cherished, safe and treasured, which is something I love in itself,” I tell him honestly.
“I like the idea of having that. Is it wrong of me to crave that with you when you already have it?”
“It’s not wrong of you to want it.” I feel like I’m being so unfair to both him and Crow. Both know the situation but that doesn’t change the fact that I feel like a fraud for intentionally getting to know Victor with the idea of marriage in our near future while also falling for Crow.
We’ve almost completed one lap around the lake and are nearing his bike again. There’s no one around, the sky is beginning to darken around us. It feels much like my life at the moment. There’s so much brightness to be seen, and yet every day something else seems to darken the atmosphere around me.
“Would you like to read with me tomorrow?”
“Read with you?” I ask, a little confused at his meaning.
“I feel that me coming to a place you like isn’t really first date material, but perhaps you can come to mine and we can read together. It’s not what I suppose most would consider a date and maybe it doesn’t have to be, but I feel it’s something we would both enjoy.”
“Yeah, sure, that sounds nice,” I tell him tentatively. It does. I don’t think I’ve ever sat side by side with someone reading, but it sounds like the most peaceful thing in the world right now.
“Why don’t we go now? It’s still early.” Both his gaze and his question is hopeful. He seems so vulnerable, so sweet that I can’t do anything but nod and accept his offer.
Twelve
His home isn’t what I imagined. At all. I’m not sure exactly what I had in mind but it certainly wasn’t this.
As Victor encourages me to follow his lead inside of the block of flats at the edge of town, I am surprised to see he doesn’t live at The Laidens’ Clubhouse or at least onsite or nearby, but that isn’t what surprises me the most.
What truly shocks me is the inside of his home, in part because it is significantly more homely than I expected it to be.
It is small, quaint even, and yet it seems to ooze personality. There are drawings, paintings, and quotes on every wall I can see, with more bookshelves on the walls than I see in most libraries. His lounge is compact, with only one two seater sofa, a coffee table, and a television, but the main reason it is so compact is because of the books everywhere. Scattered all over the floor, on shelves, in bookcases, and his desk that sat at the edge of the room. The kitchen is open plan and behind the lounge, just a single line of cabinets and the necessities. There are even a few books in the kitchen on top of his microwave.
“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess. I don’t usually have people round,” Victor says as he shuffles around the room, picking up clothes that hang over the sofa and chairs before throwing them in what I assume is the bathroom. It isn’t messy though. Cluttered perhaps, but not messy. The books that take up the majority of the space within the small room look unusually organised.
“This is literally my dream. You’ve got your whole flat as your own personal library.” I laugh as I scoot around the room and find a few books I recognise and have read and others on my to be read list. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.
“Well, you can come here anytime you want to dream.” He chuckles as he puts the kettle on and holds a teabag up to offer me a cuppa. His whole body seemed to relax the moment we walked in through his front door. Maybe the posh, well spoken Victor is a whole other persona separate to that of the one he truly is when comfortable in his own space.
“One sugar, please.” I nod as I take a seat and continue gazing around at the mass amount of books surrounding me.
“I bet your dad has a heart attack every time he walks through the door of this place if he doesn’t like you reading fiction,” I joke, remembering what he had said earlier on about his dad and hiding his books when he was younger.
“He doesn’t come here. No one does really. I’ve got one good friend that visits but apart from that, this is mine and mine alone,” he tells me as he hands me the warm mug full of steaming tea.
“Thank you.” I smile as I wrap my hands around the mug to warm my hands up.
“So what do you want to read?” He places his cup on the table before peering through his collection and picking out a few books and bringing them over to me.
He sits next to me on the sofa, though not too close. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s purposefully trying not to invade my space or because that’s naturally what he would do with a visitor anyway. I find myself surprised at the butterflies that fill my fluttering stomach as he takes a seat so close to me.
“You’ll have to tell me if you’ve already read them but this one is one I haven’t read. I’ve been meaning to for a while but haven’t got round to it yet. I have two of every book, so we can read together.”
“Why do you have two of every book?” I ask as I pick up the one he’s offering me and begin reading the blurb at the back.
“You’ll think it’s strange.”
