Page 87 of Textbook Romance

She jolts to hear the word, still refusing to look me in the eye. Please look at me so I can understand this. My gaze feels desperate, panicked, just waiting for her to find me.

‘It was the Laser Tag thing, wasn’t it?’ I desperately try to joke, filling the silence.

She half laughs, not answering. I hope the Laser Tag wasn’t the death knell to our relationship.

‘Is it the job thing?’ I ask her.

‘What job thing?’ she asks curiously.

‘The fact I’m just a sub. I’m slightly adrift. I live in a house share and don’t drive a car,’ I tell her.

‘When have I ever placed any worth on those things or called you out for it?’

‘You mentioned something in Winchester,’ I recall.

‘I didn’t mean it like that. That says a lot about me if you think I would judge you for those things.’ Her eyes well up to be thought of like that and I take her hands in mine.

‘I know you think I’m too young, that something doesn’t quite match up in real life, but I’m not stupid. I’m old enough to know how I feel about you. I wish you could admit that much to yourself. I wish you had the courage to admit that you have feelings for me.’

And with those words, I see tears roll down her face. I never wanted to make her cry, but I need to know. I am so certain that what I feel for her is love. I am so certain that this is something worth sticking around for. She uses her palm to wipe away those tears and turns to me.

‘Jack,’ she says, taking a deep breath. ‘You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. I will forever be grateful to you for what you’ve done for me in these last few months. But I don’t know how to do this. I am so sorry.’ She puts her head down, unable to look at me anymore and I sit there, once a balloon all buoyant and full of hope, now deflated.

I look down at my hands. They feel empty without her holding them. Maybe I was stupid to think that despite all those wonderful qualities I know she has that she would just change her life completely and that I would slot perfectly into all of it.

‘Really?’ I say. I almost don’t want to believe her but also don’t want to appear dickish in the face of rejection. This doesn’t feel like her. This doesn’t explain the connection I thought we both felt for each other.

‘I just… I don’t see how this could work.’

And it’s like someone taking an axe and just splicing my heart in two. On the one hand, I refuse to believe it but on the other, maybe this was all just one-sided. Maybe she needed me to help her believe in love again, maybe she used me to get back at her husband, maybe she was not as perfect as I thought. Maybe I’ve been flung a great distance and now I’m landing in a great big heap on the floor.

‘I guess that’s the end of that then,’ I say plainly, and I look over to see a face I remember so well. It was the one I saw when she found out the news about her ex. I can’t bear to see it and I reach out to hold her, as she moves towards me, crying softly in my arms.

‘I mean, we could just shag casually until the end of our days. That could work?’ I joke. Her body shudders again and I hope that’s laughter. I kiss the top of her head. ‘Just promise me one thing?’ I tell her, holding her so she faces me. I rub the tears away from her face with the edge of my sleeve.

‘I’ve never met someone like you. Your light burns so fucking bright. Just if you don’t want to be with me, I get that.’ The words get stuck in my throat as I say that out loud. ‘Just don’t stay landlocked. I know how much you adore your kids, and you want to do what’s right by them, but put yourself first. Think about what you deserve, too. Put yourself on a pedestal for once.’

She looks at me like she doesn’t know how to reply.

‘I love you, Zoe. I really think I do. I don’t mind saying that out loud even if you don’t feel the same way. I think you need to hear it at least.’

And I kiss her, slowly, holding her head in my hands, desperately wanting to be closer to her. But no. I pull away from her, our foreheads touching before getting up. She can’t quite speak. Neither can I. I just leave that room, head for the front door and click it shut quietly, tears streaming down my face as I head into the cold winter air.

SEVENTEEN

Three months later

Zoe

‘And some wonderful news from one of our ex-students, Gabe Osho, who recently got signed by the Fulham Academy. Congratulations to him on embarking on this very exciting journey.’

There is the sound of applause in this large hall, a few boys who I suspect were asleep during this assembly on the importance of resilience, come alive to hear Gabe’s name and the mention of something football related. I smile to myself, looking for Gabe in the room. He did it. He comes and finds me on Mondays, and we have a working lunch and sometimes go through algebra together, but the boy was seen, and is giving it a go, and I feel so incredibly proud.

‘Please can we attempt to leave this hall in an orderly manner, Mrs Swift’s form first please.’ Oh, that’s me. I may have also drifted off in that assembly on resilience, but I at least was clever enough to fix my gaze at the board and nod every so often. I don’t think these assemblies have changed much since I was in school but at least they don’t make us sing together anymore and at least I get a chair to sit on. My form rise from their seats and head over to the door as I follow them. One of them comes up next to me. Hayley. She’s in Year Eleven now and I’ve seen this one through from when she first arrived at this school with knee-high socks and a giant rucksack to now, where her tights are full of holes and her eyebrows are threaded and microbladed to perfection. I could measure angles with those.

‘Did you have a good Christmas, Miss?’ she asks me.

‘I did, thank you.’ I stayed at home, ate my weight in cheese and binge watched three box sets. She doesn’t need to hear that. I look down trying to work out if she’s wearing a skirt. ‘Did you read the new school rules on make-up? We want you girls to aim for discretion.’

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