Page 88 of Sincerely Yours, Anna Sherwood

He’s sat against the wall with his knees tucked up, and now he scrambles to his feet. The lift doors start to slide close, squeezing either side of my arms. I wince as they automatically bounce back open, and step into the hallway towards him.

‘Annalise, I’m so – I don’t – I had no idea …’

The words pour out of him in a rush, like his mouth can’t keep pace with his brain. He stops, takes a breath.

And another.

And another.

I realize I’m holding mine, counting the heartbeats while we stare at each other, trying to put an entire summer of heartache and want into words. A little curl of dread coils up my spine when I consider – maybe it’s not that, for him. Maybe he’s angry, more upset with me now than when we fought, maybe he’s embarrassed and bitter.

But … he’s not.

This is Lloyd, after all. Heart on his sleeve. An open book.

Wide eyes, green like the first rush of grass in a new spring, plaintive and hopeful. His full lips parted slightly with a hundred things to say on them – too many, making it impossible to know where to start.

I don’t know how long we stand in the hallway.

I don’t know who moves first, either, only that we come together in a collision of outstretched arms and trembling hands, my face buried in the crook of his neck; the familiarity of Lloyd’s embrace, the way he holds me so tightly, eliminates the need for words.

He’s here, and that’s enough.

For as long as we stand there, clinging to each other, Iknow, can feel in my bones – that it’ll be okay. That the disaster of the emails, of everyone finding out about us, won’t be the calamity it felt like this morning. The steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, the warm flush of his skin beneath my fingers, the way he makes me feel so suddenly and completely grounded – so wholly myself – feels so much bigger than any internship.

How could I ever have convinced myself thatthiswas worth so little? That it in any way compared to my last relationship, which had been so easy to put behind me in favour of ‘the big picture’ stuff?

Lloyd draws himself upright, ready to say something. A tiny, adorable crease puckers between his eyebrows; I reach up to smooth it out, revelling in the lopsided smile that replaces his focused expression, and my fingers trace a path along his cheek, my palm settling against his jaw. His head bows until hisforehead is pressed to mine; it’s tender, a stark contrast to his grip on my elbows, anchoring me close, like if he lets go I’ll slip through his fingers for good. I know how he feels. This is so perfect – so right – that I’m half-afraid it’s not real. Like if I say something, I’ll jinx it somehow, and this will disappear.

I tilt my head up towards his, our noses brushing against each other. His lips are so close to mine, but the few millimetres of space that parts us feels cavernous.

Just when I think he’s about to kiss me, Lloyd finally breaks the silence.

‘I wrote you poems, you know.’

‘You – what?’

There’s apingbehind us, the lift doors opening, animated voices slicing through the tension in the air. We’ve stood too long; we’ve lost our moment.

Lloyd lets me go, inch by inch, reluctance in his every movement.

The voices stop before I can turn, and then there’s a cry of, ‘Annalise!’ and I’m being wrenched into a hug, a pair of thin arms wrapping tight enough around me that it crushes all the air out of my lungs.

‘Ohmigod,’ Elaine says in a rush, ‘we were so worried all day! You weren’t answering your phone! Are you alright? What happened? Verity said you left with your mum. Are you okay?’

She steps back to hold me at arm’s length, scrutinizing me like she can expect to see the after-effects of this morning’s events written all over me. She probably can, in all fairness. I must look like crap.

Behind her is Louis, along with Monty, Dylan and Izzy. They’re all looking at me with concern, and pity.

They’ve all read the emails, I’m sure of it.

I fumble to reply, trying to shake off the heady intimacy of the moment Lloyd and I just shared – the one they’ve ruined.

‘Sorry. My – my phone died, and I haven’t really had chance to check it since …’ I trail off, not really sure what to say – they’re all looking at me so expectantly. My first instinct is to ask how their days have been, if they’ve all got plans together tonight. It doesn’t seem right to say something so normal, when it’s been such a screwed-up day.

‘Let’s go in. C’mon, I’m gasping for a cuppa,’ Louis says, ambling down the hallway with his keys out.

Izzy says tentatively, ‘Or if you want some space we can leave, Anna. I mean, we don’t want to get in the way.’

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