Page 14 of Big Nick Energy
He continues to glance at me, warmly. ‘How have you not changed in nearly ten years? What’s your secret?’
Korean skincare.The problem is he’s not changed either. We are just both grown up versions of ourselves. It’s a strange thing to see him close up, looking this good, this polished, because every other memory I have of him is fuzzy, with him in straight-leg jeans and bobbly woollen jumpers. ‘I drink a lot of water. I don’t date wankers who dump me in pubs anymore.’
‘Ouch. I possibly deserved that though,’ he sighs, realising that perhaps I have more sense than to bounce back into a flirtation that didn’t end well the first time. He takes a long deep breath. ‘Kay Redman.’
‘Saint Nick,’ I say, a little too softly, but suddenly thinking of what Davinia told me outside that restaurant, about the universe delivering. Well, the universe thinks it’s pretty funny, giving me something secondhand.
He smiles. ‘Highly appropriate that we should have bumped into each other at Christmas then.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Look, I think we should get a drink. Are you free now? Maybe a hot chocolate? With no hope or agenda or anything; it would be nice to chat, to catch up.’
This should be the moment where I say no. I have a teapot and a glorious Demis Roussos vinyl in my shopping bag. I cancircle back and get some earrings and old poetry books from that stall I walked past earlier. That would be a power move. To leave him and what we had in the past. That said, in the last hour, my agent told me to go out there and have some fun, she felt so strongly that the universe would deliver. Nick used to deliver. Quite well, if I remember.
‘One hot chocolate,’ I say.
He smiles again. One drink.
SEVEN
I shouldn’t be here. I mean, I should be here because this is a nice cosy café with its scents of gingerbread and its jingly Christmas folk music, and I have a cinnamon bun in front of me that’s bloody delicious, but I shouldn’t be keeping the company in front of me. Nick Coles. With his cool blue-grey eyes like a cat, his strong jawline and intriguing smile. I really thought he belonged in the deepest recesses of my history. Why did I agree to this? Is it because he bought me a teapot? But despite my best efforts to ignore it there is something that sits here between us, a strange energy. We can’t stop looking at each other and grinning.
‘Good buns?’ he asks me.
Oh dear, don’t try and do that.Don’t throw around these puns that could be vaguely sexual, because innuendo was the foundation of how we got together the first time round, and that’s both rude and unfair.
‘They’re very good, thank you,’ I say, nodding.
I stir the cocoa into the whipped cream on top of my hot chocolate and put a spoonful into my mouth. He smiles to himself. ‘You still do that?’
I will assume he’s referring to the cream thing. I also do it with the foam on my cappuccino. I’ve done it for years. This is better as there are sprinkles on the cream. He remembers that? ‘Yes.’
‘Funny the little things you remember,’ he says. I don’t know what to make of this. Why are we here? To debrief what happened nearly a decade ago? But I can’t deny there’s something mildly sexy about this. To be here with someone from the past that I once cared so deeply about. There is mystery here, and my thoughts are full of what-ifs and memories. Is there a chance to rekindle something? No, Kay, he dumped you. Have some self-respect. Look how well you thrived without him. Look at what he missed out on. Revel in that power. That said, I am under no illusion that he seems different now, with his sharp haircut and the suit that fits well at the shoulders and cuffs. I’m glad I had my agent lunch so I also look half presentable. We grew apart, that’s for sure, but in opposite directions. In that way, I just always assumed he was a placeholder relationship, a lesson, shaping the way I looked at myself, the world, love. But now we’re here. And strangely, I remember Dave in the pub telling me a corny line about setting someone free. That’s what happened. And now he’s back.
‘So how was New York?’ I ask him.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. He’s taken off his suit jacket so he’s sitting there in his shirt and tie.Don’t look at the curve of his shoulders. ‘Intense. A good place to call home for a while. I did a lot of growing up there.’
‘I bet the bagels were good,’ I say. I don’t know why.
He grins. ‘They were pretty amazing.’ I take a bite of my cinnamon bun so there’s something in my mouth which will prevent me from saying anything else really stupid. ‘What are you up to? Are you still writing?’ he asks.
I look at him as he says this, my mouth full, surprised. I didn’t write when we were at university, so this is something he’s researched or discovered through the internet. ‘I am.’
‘I bought that book about the bears. I gave it to my niece,’ he says. ‘It was cute.’
‘That’s kind, thank you.’ So he’s been keeping tabs too.
‘And are you still working with the library service?’ he asks.
He really has been looking, eh? Was he watching from a distance? Comparing our journeys? Was today even a coincidence at all? Because if not, that’s weird. I pull my drink closer.
‘I am.’
‘Then you’re still Kay with all the words, all her books. That’s a good thing,’ he says, looking genuinely pleased for me as he tilts his head to the side. I find myself looking at the line of his neck, wondering what’s underneath that shirt. I shake my head to scold myself.
‘Well, it’s not as if I was going to leave university with an English literature degree and suddenly become an accountant,’ I say.
