Page 65 of Still Falling for You

I lock the door behind me and have a good silent cry. Once semi-composed, I pull on his jogger shorts and an old blue T-shirt with the London skyline and the wordsLondon Marathonon it. It smells of Alex, and I stand there with the T-shirt glued to my nose for long minutes, just inhaling and memorising his smell.

I stare in the mirror. It’s an old antique piece with carved fish and sea creatures around the wooden frame. I love it. The image in the mirror isn’t that great. My short hair lies floppily around my face. I look tired, my lips are almost blue, and the tip of my nose is pink from the cold. Plus, Alex’s clothes are ridiculous on me. They’re too big around my shoulders and waist, but I’ve never worn anything this comfortable.

Eventually, I come out and find a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me on the table, and a stiff-looking Alex sitting on the only armchair in the room. I sit on the sofa opposite him and cradle the coffee in my hands.

He reaches over the space between us, holding the bag of peas out to me until I take it.

For long moments, we’re just sipping our coffees. I’m so tongue-tied I don’t think I could speak even if I wanted to.

‘What are you doing here, Holly?’ he asks carefully.

I abandon my cup and the bag of frozen vegetables, locking my eyes with his. All I want to do is to memorise every centimetre of him. All I see is this kind, beautiful and selfless man. I see his strengths and his flaws laid out in front of me because neither of us is perfect, but I don’t want perfect.

‘The day before I walked in on you and Vicky, I saw my dad cheat on my mum. After I broke up with you, I went to Meg’s party to make things right. There’s no excuse for what I did after I saw you and Vicky. For what it’s worth, I wanted you tounderstand why I did what I did. I guess I’m here to say sorry.’ I’m a coward. I promised myself I’d stop coming up with partial truths where Alex is involved.

Picking up the peas off the table, he stands up and sits next to me on the sofa. I forget to breathe as he takes my hand gently between his.

‘It looks worse than it is,’ I say, but when he presses the bag to my knuckles, I hiss. ‘Actually, it might be as bad as it looks. I might need to make a short stop at the hospital on my way back home,’ I babble.

‘I hated you so much.’ Alex finally speaks but doesn’t let go of my hand. His eyes are now trained on my battered knuckles, his shoulders lift and fall with deep breaths.

‘I didn’t know that you saw us that day, and I didn’t know about your dad,’ he says heavily. ‘After, all I wanted to do was to tell you, but then I saw you with that boy.’ He drops my hand and pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment like this conversation is causing him pain. ‘It confirmed all the things that Vicky made me believe about myself. That I was unimportant and worthless, and you could do so much better. I knew logically that you didn’t do anything wrong because you broke up with me the day before but… God, I hated you for it for years, and then you came back into my life.’ He’s silent for a full minute. The bag of peas slips from my hand onto the carpet. ‘I told myself you were a different person, and it wasn’t fair to compare you to the person you used to be. I convinced myself that I would be fair and impartial, but I know I was the opposite and made things hard for you. I’m the one who should be apologising.’ He slumps against the back of the sofa, dispirited.

I crave his touch, but I feel that’s the last thing he wants right now. ‘Alex, what I did ten years ago was awful. The only reason I broke up with you was that I worried you were seeing someone else because Vicky made me believe it. You were so distant at times.’

He studies me, and I try not to fidget under his gaze. ‘I kept you at arm’s length on purpose. I was terrified that you would realise what a screw-up I was. I put you on a pedestal. You were so perfect andclean.’

I can’t help myself and utter, ‘Thank you. I’ve always prided myself on my personal hygiene.’

His eyebrow arches. ‘That’s not what I meant, but maybe it is…’ He breaks off. ‘I meant your life felt uncomplicated and perfect compared to mine. You never had to go to a lesson twenty minutes early so you could snatch a back seat so nobody could smell your smoky clothes. You never had to hide a bottle of vodka from your mum and stash it in your schoolbag because that was the only place she wouldn’t look. You never had to pretend it was your bottle so the teacher who found it didn’t call social services on your mum. I didn’t want to tarnish your life like that.’

I feel suddenly bone-tired. ‘Nobody’s life is perfect. Everyone’s flawed. It’s not fair to put somebody in that position. It’s not an easy place to be and far to fall if they disappoint you.’ I shuffle in my seat but don’t make a move to touch him.

‘I know that now. Trust me,’ he says with bitterness, and his focus shifts to his hands gripping the armrest. ‘If I had been more open, maybe you would have told me about your dad and things would have turned out differently.’ He sounds self-deprecating. ‘I should have been honest, and I should have told you things about myself. My mum wasn’t always an alcoholic, you know.’

His voice takes on a strange vulnerable quality. ‘She used to be a decent mum until my dad died when I was ten. Then the drinking started, and she couldn’t hold down a job for more than a month. We had to move out, and then we moved to that atrocious flat.’ His tone turns bitter. ‘Quickly, I became a carer. I did all the shopping and cleaning. I made sure that the bills got paid. I even got a part-time job at Tesco. I had no time ordesire to think about girls.’ He pauses. ‘I knew that Vicky was always on the outskirts, but I never liked her. Then I noticed you, and I was undone. I was a mess, and so when you noticed me and even liked me back, I couldn’t understand why. When we started dating, I tried to keep it together and look like I was cool. I pretended I wasn’t a screw-up. But Vicky never stopped following me. She became persistent, turning up at places I went to, messaging me and calling me late at night. She told me I was nothing, that I was worthless, and that eventually you’d get bored of me. My worst nightmares were confirmed when you messaged me that things weren’t working out.’ He averts his gaze in shame.

‘I spoke to Vicky. I know what happened at the party,’ I admit.

He nods towards my knuckles. ‘Spoke to her? Is that what you call it?’ For the first time, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it disappears in a flash. ‘She came to apologise earlier. It’s turned out we’re all screwed up one way or another.’ He laughs humourlessly. ‘To her credit, she didn’t realise I wasn’t a consenting party until I pushed her away. But it didn’t stop her from threatening me after and warning me if I ever told you she’d deny it and say that I forced her.’ My stomach twists in disgust.

I will myself to be brave.

‘I never thought you were worthless. You’re the best thing that has happened to me.’

‘You say that even after the way I have behaved to you these last few months?’ Disbelief fills his eyes. ‘I knew that you got a job at the school. Jane spoke to me straight after she decided to employ you. I convinced myself I was OK and that you didn’t mean anything to me any more.’ He clears his throat loudly. ‘That is until you walked into the classroom following John, and I knew that I wasn’t OK.’

‘At least you were better prepared than I was. Imagine myshock seeing you there and then finding out you were also my mentor.’

‘I asked to be your mentor,’ he rushes out, stunning me.

‘Why?’ I hold my breath.

He moves in his seat but doesn’t breach the distance between us. ‘I’m not sure. I convinced myself that I needed to keep an eye on you. I was so resentful and thought you were a spoilt brat, and then I heard you on the phone with Catherine talking about your life. I felt miserable about the way I spoke to you but not miserable enough to stop being unfair to you.

‘I was convinced you were sleeping with John,’ he confesses, his cheeks colouring in mortification.

I can’t stand the distance between us and hesitantly take one of his hands in mine, hissing at the pain that shoots through my knuckles.

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