Page 76 of Oz
Silas turns to me. “Alone at last,” he says, grinning and slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Did you get your legal stuff done?” I ask, grabbing my own backpack and gesturing for him to follow me.
“I did.”
He falls into step beside me but when we come to a florist, he stops. “Wait here. I just need to get something I ordered earlier.”
I wait outside patiently and blink when he emerges with a gigantic bunch of lilies.
“You did say that these were your mum’s favourite flowers, didn’t you?” he asks, sounding worried.
“I did,” I say faintly. “About a month ago in an aside. How the fuck did you remember that?”
He shrugs, looking a little bashful. “Because you told me,” he says simply. “That makes it important.”
I stare at his warm face and clear greeny-gold eyes and he looks back calmly. I sigh. “What do you want from me?” They aren’t the words I was planning to say but they are the words I want to say.
He smiles calmly and steps closer, the scent of the lilies rich around us. “I can’t tell you yet. You’re not quite there.”
“Where?”
He ignores me and starts to amble along. I catch up and walk next to him, guiding him down the side street leading to my mum’s home.
“What is it with you and Shaun today?” I grumble. “Full of all these cryptic comments, and don’t think I didn’t see you whispering and looking at me.”
He shrugs. “Just discussing your personality defects.”
I shake my head. “No, you weren’t. I haven’t got any.” I smile. “Okay, keep your secrets, Silas. I’ll get it out of you somehow.”
“I know you will,” he says placidly. “And I look forward very much to experiencing you trying.”
I come to a stop. “Here we are.”
He looks up at the building towering over us. It looks grim in this light. It’s grey and utilitarian and nothing like his home. But still, when I look up I see the lit windows gleaming cheerily and I remember that feeling of home. This is where my mum is, and I remember all the years of Shaun and I playing around here in the streets and practically living in each other’s flats. It was a culture shock when we came from Ireland, but my mum always impressed on me that we carry our home with us because it’s with the people we love.
But it hasn’t stopped other men’s reactions. This is normally when the comments start. I obviously have a terrible taste for posh boys. The wince and sneer barely suppressed, the slight panic that they’re actually in this place. I don’t really expect that from Silas because he’s classier than anyone I’ve ever met, but this place shines a light on the differences between us that I grow more conscious of every day.
I wait for something that he’ll cover up with his good manners. Instead he looks around with a lively curiosity. “Which floor is yours?”
I blink. “Seventeenth floor.” I nudge him. “A nice bracing climb for a good view of London.”
He laughs, and I direct him into the lobby. He moves towards the lifts, but I put a hand out to stop him. “I wouldn’t. They’re working at the moment, but that only usually lasts for a few hours. If you get stuck in there at this time you’ll wait all night and cry and have to pee in a bottle.” He looks at me and I grin. “But that’s a long story. Let’s not discuss that ever again.”
I direct him to the stairs. “Okay, this isn’t pleasant because apparently some people who live here are under the fucking impression that this is actually a fucking toilet. So, maybe hold your breath in until the need for air becomes impossible to ignore. If you have a heart attack from the climb, I’ll try to cushion your fall with my dinner jacket.”
“I think what I find most attractive about you, Oz, is your sunny and optimistic nature.” I laugh and go to walk ahead of him up the steps, but he grabs my arm on the first stair. “Wait,” he says. I look enquiringly at him and he gives me a little smile. “I’m a bit nervous.”
I’m instantly concerned. “Oh, don’t worry about anything. You’re with me and no one is going to fucking mug you.” I sigh. “I could hardly get James out of the car when he came, and he spent most of the first visit looking out of the window in case someone stole his tyre rims.”
He shakes his head impatiently. “I’m not worried aboutthat.”
“Well, what’s the matter then?”
He shrugs. “I’m just worried that she won’t like me. This is really important to me.”
“Why?” I say sharply. “You probably won’t meet her again.” For a second he looks as if I’ve punched him and remorse runs through me. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, grabbing his waist to stop his instinctive movement away from me. I can’t allow that. “That was a shitty thing to say. I’m just nervous too.”
“Why?”
