Page 70 of Going Solo

“Right, well, we’ll be fixing that little oversight in your cultural education as soon as we get back to London.” He took a bite of sausage roll, and we sat in silence, listening to the rumble of motorway traffic while he chewed. “You know what I think?” he said, finally. I looked up at him. “I think you’ve got quite used to having your sexy, rich, famous ex chasing you around these past few days, and you’ve liked it. Now he’s gone and you won’t see him for four or five days, and you”—he pointed his sausage roll at me—“don’t know how to handle it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I said. “That’s not it.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then tell me what’s up.”

I picked up my sausage roll and took a bite, avoiding eye contact with Nick.

“Toby, you insisted I come on this tour with you, despite it being diabolically wheelchair inaccessible at every turn. You wanted me here for a reason, and I hope it wasn’t so I could sit on the side of a motorway while car fumes smoked my lungs to pastrami, because very little of my body operates optimally as it is?—”

“Cole kissed me,” I blurted. “All right? He kissed me. Now you know.” I looked over at Nick. He raised his eyebrows.

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Depends. How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you kiss him back?”

“I slapped him across the face.”

“That seems definitive.” Nick licked a bit of pastry off the back of his hand. “So why are we moping, then?”

“Because before I slapped him, Imighthave kissed him back.” I put my head in my hands.

“This is a roller coaster ride.”

“If you’re going to judge me?—”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve paid my penny, I’ve got my ticket, and I’m already sitting in a stranger’s vomit. So, why’d you hit him?”

“Because I hate him.”

“Do you really, though?” Nick let the last of his vegan sausage roll slide back into the bag and put it down. He reached a hand across the table to me, and I grabbed it. “Or are you in the habit of hating him?”

“He ruined my life,” I said. “It took me years to get over all that crap, I’ve finally got my life sorted, and it feels like he’s come back to screw it all up again, you know what I’m saying?”

“You think he’s back to deliberately ruin your life?”

“In the van the other day, he said this was about healing. I thought he meant he wanted to be friends. But if he wanted to be friends, why the kiss? Why disrespect me like that?”

“Maybe he’s doing it because he’s still in love with you, you absolute roaster.”

I pulled my hand away. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Have you listened toThe Flameyet, Toby?”

I groaned in frustration. “This again? What is it with you?—”

“Don’t you think this whole ‘reborn’ thing of Cole’s is him pressing the reset button?” Nick said. “That guy has been through some shit. Can you imagine having Felicity Quant controlling your life for ten years? You saw what it was like for a few weeks. He’s finally escaped. You remember all the ‘let Cole be Cole’ stuff back when the Go Tos formed? What if he feels like he’s lost track of who he is and this whole thing is him pressing a great big reset button and going back to where he was the last time he truly felt like himself?”

I stared at Nick, my jaw slack, mouth open. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

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