Page 37 of Oz
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“How can you say that? He’s extremely good looking.”
“I’m not talking about Chris Hemsworth with you. It’ll take ages.”
He relents. “Even you, who is as blind to interest as a dead person, must recognise that Oz likes you.”
“But I’m his boss.” I hesitate. “He didn’t have a good experience last time he got involved with someone.”
“Please. Niall’s his boss. You just pay the wage packet. Anyway, he’s only here for a few more months.”
“Don’t mention that,” I mutter and he rubs my arm. I look at him. “Anyway, we all know what a terrible picker I am. Henry reminded me a few weeks ago.”
He laughs but then sobers. “I think you’re getting better at it, son.”
“Why?” I ask, startled.
“He’s brilliant and somehow just perfect for you.” He stares blindly at the crowds. “When I first saw him, I thought you were as different as anything.”
“We are,” I say wryly.
He shrugs. “Hmm, maybe. I don’t think so. You actually seem very similar. You both have that very warm, settled air about you.” He bites his lip in deep thought. “You’re constant, Silas. I thought it the moment I met you. You have this air of loyalty and dependability.”
“You make me sound like a Golden Labrador,” I say sourly.
He laughs. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Labs are lovely. Although inclined to be weighty. I’d watch that if I were you.”
I shove him, but gently this time so he doesn’t damage another case of products. “I’m not worried about my weight, thank you very much.” He laughs but stares at me. “What?” I ask.
He smiles. “He’s the same. You might have very different backgrounds and personalities, but underneath that air ofI don’t give a shitthat he has, is actually a man who cares very deeply. I just think you have to work to get in that group. I bet it’s small.”
I shrug and smile as a couple with a small pug interrupt us, but my mind returns to it as the time moves as slowly as a snail to four o’clock. I want to be in that group that Oz guards so closely. I want him to look on me as something precious and dear, the way he does his family and close friends. I want to matter to him, and that desire is steadily eclipsing all my doubts of the wisdom of doing anything.
Oz
The lady in front of me drones on about her honey. She has dozens of jars open and Milo is dutifully trying some and making noises of appreciation. I edge slightly to the right so I can see beyond her and into the stand where Silas is currently charming a woman with a Chihuahua.
I stare at the wide smile on his open tanned face and watch as she shakes out her long auburn hair. She’s very pretty. I can see appreciation on his face and I remember suddenly that he’s bisexual.
I frown. I’ve nothing against bisexual people at all. The only thing it means to me in connection with Silas is that there is suddenly another section of the population who might be better for him than me.
I wonder why my heart isn’t obeying the urgings of my head. I’m entirely wrong for him. His partner should be someone upper class, someone with effortless charm. Someone who can greet his guests and family properly. Someone who he can be proud to stand next to. That someone surely isn’t me.
I look up and see the woman touch his arm and an adorably confused and panicked look come over his face. He looks beseechingly towards his friend Theo, who shakes his head but wanders over to join their conversation. They talk for a few minutes and then she leaves after touching her hair about thirty times and then his hand.
When she’s gone, Theo says something and Silas shakes his head at once, giving that lopsided quirky smile he has. I close my eyes in resignation. That smile and the slightly lost air about him are the reasons I can’t listen to my brain.
I’ve escaped heartache all these years because of that trusty organ, and right at the moment I need it most, it’s faltering, helpless against the power of … Silas. I grimace and look up to see the honey woman and Milo looking at me aghast.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I was just thinking–” I falter slightly. “Erm, I was just thinking about how much I love bees,” I finish. Milo gives me a knowing look, but the woman smiles approvingly. This leads to a long and very intense conversation about bee habits and her extracting a promise to visit her hives.
Saying goodbye, we walk away from the honey stand. “Lovely,” I sigh. “Now, I’ve got to go and put my hand in a hive and I’m far too pretty to wear a net over my face.”
He snorts with laughter. “I hope the white outfit doesn’t make you look plump.”
I nudge him admiringly. “So pert.”
He shakes his head. “It’s nearly four, you know. Haven’t you got a date?”
