Theo
An hour or so later, I’m done with my set and the rain is still coming down hard, so I've settled for sitting at the bar for a while until it’s safer to leave. William, the bartender smiles as he opens another beer for me. He places it on the marble counter, “Are you staying until close tonight?”
I sneer, “I don’t think it’s possible to drive right now,” and then as an afterthought, I add, “I’d be in bed right now on a normal day.”
He scrunches up his nose, “Yeah, you’re telling me,” He grins, “although with how much George is paying me, I think I’d need to work five more hours to make ends meet.”
William is your typical blonde, overeager green-eyed Uni student. He’s paying his way through school by working a bunch of odd jobs. In times like this, he’s good company. He’s overall polite, quick with a joke and tends to mind his own business, which is why I like him. It’s also pretty obvious that this is just a pit stop for him. I hope he gets to where he wants to be someday.
I take a sip and look around. Although it’s late, it’s still crowded, laughter and chatter louder than before, probably due to the number of drinks that have circulated during my set.
The owner’s son is still in the corner, although now George is sitting with him. They don’t look like they’re having a good chat, though. His son is flushed, raking his hands through his curls, practically pulling at them every now and then. I thought those kinds of emotional outbursts weren’t allowed here.
William gestures his head towards them, “He’s going quick with his drinks, that one.”
“That’s George’s kid, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Mmmhm,” he replies as takes a glass from behind the counter and starts preparing a Mojito for an old man who’s sitting just to my right, “Yeah, foster kid.”
I don’t say anything as I take another long drink of my beer. “I heard his name is Sam Wilcox,” he adds as he shakes his head.
I raise an eyebrow at the ridiculous name, “That’s odd. That he’s a foster kid, I mean. He looks like George.”
William shrugs as he mushes mint leaves at the bottom of the glass. “I guess so. There’s nothing special about either of them, though. He just brought him here hoping he finds someone to settle down with,”
I cringe internally and bite my lip, “Yeah, I figured,”
I turn to look at this Sam bloke and find him already looking at me.
He is blatantly staring, his mouth slightly open. Fuck. His tawny skin glows softly under the dim, yellow lights. His blue eyes eagerly go up my body until they find my face. I hold his gaze for a second, then I lift my chin and sneer. His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and then he looks down at this glass, fiddling with his tie again. I know the intimidating, I’m-richer-than-you dance too well.
I won't look at him again.
I despised the way my heart started racing when I caught him staring. I hate the way he reminds me of someone I once loved.
I’m finally putting my coat on downstairs, after waiting almost an hour for the rain to let up. A petite woman opens the door to the street and stands in the doorway as she fumbles in her Chanel purse for her car keys, letting the cold air rush into the small lobby. That's when I spot him. A lonely figure, standing under a lamppost, probably waiting for the valet to bring his car around.
I step out and hand my ticket to the valet. Sam Wilcox whips his head around so fast it wouldn’t be surprising if he tore a muscle. I ignore him as I place a smoke between my lips. I cross my arms over my chest, trying not to shiver. I hate that I’m always unreasonably cold. The hot smoke warms my chest instantly. He’s still staring, but when I give him a long cool look, he averts his eyes.
I notice his top button is popped open and his blue tie is now wrapped around his fist. Definitely not used to suits and the like, then. Now that I’m seeing him up close, his tawny skin is splattered with freckles and moles, and for a split second, I imagine myself kissing the one on his left cheek, just under his eye.
He starts fumbling with his phone, still leaning against the lamppost. I think he’s too pissed to stand upright on his own.
He glances at me and gives me a shy smile. I nod my head towards him, and I think he’s about to speak when a car pulls up, disturbing the quietness and parks right at the curb. Sam looks at it, then back at his phone. Before he climbs into the car, he gives me one last look. An Uber, I think. I can’t help the strange feeling in my stomach as he’s still staring through the window at me, smiling faintly as the driver takes him away from me.
Monday, December 3rd
Theo
When Monday comes around, I’m still restless.
I keep telling myself I’m too old to have these kinds of schoolboy crushes. Then, the other half of me keeps telling me it’s been a while since I’ve felt like this, so I might as well try to at least enjoy the high I get from thinking about him. Lean into the feeling and all that.
He’s probably straight, anyway. Even if he wasn’t, he’s still the owner’s son, and that would be the recipe for an incredibly awkward situation. I don't think trying to pull his son would go very well. George is an ex-marine who’s still holding onto the idea that war is what the world needs for every single terrible thing that happens daily to change. The only thing he ever talks about is politics. I don’t think I’ve ever had a full conversation with him. Not that I care.
No one knows much about his personal life. Up until three days ago, I was sure he never even had time for a wife and a kid. A kid that is around my age, has a soft smile and the prettiest freckled skin I’ve ever seen. A bloke who’s fit enough to get you to think about him while you’re doing your shopping at bloody Tesco’s just because he stared at you across a room full of people. Just because he decided to. Just because he can.
“Mate, seriously, we’ve been here for hours,”
I roll my eyes at Bryce. We do our shopping together during the week since we’re practically neighbours. It’s something we used to do at Uni while we got used to the whole shopping-for-one-person thing, and it just stuck.
“I’m almost done,” I lie.
He takes a look at my shopping trolley and raises both eyebrows. It’s almost empty, but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“You’ve been staring at the bloody pasta for a good five minutes now,” he continues as I grab my favourite pack of ravioli and toss it in the trolley.
“How are things with your girl, anyway?”
He shrugs, “Pretty good. Since the engagement, it’s like we’re in the honeymoon phase again,”
I grin, “You’ve never left it, to begin with.”
I know damn well they’re all over each other (in a good way) all the time. It’s a good fit. Danna is soft and a generally compassionate, gentle woman. She’s always down to have a chat if she notices you’re looking a bit too tense at Sunday roast. It contrasts perfectly with my cousin’s personality.
His grin is even bigger, “Yeah. I mean, it’s odd sometimes, trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’ll be a unit from now on, but mostly it’s good.”
I shrug. I try to avoid that gesture as much as I can because I think it’s an idiotic, lazy way of responding, but I just can’t think of anything to say back.
Bryce pats my back, “I keep thinking your time is near.”
I flinch. I hate it when people who know you’ve been single for a while insist you’ll find ‘the one’ soon. Because it doesn't work like that. I don’t see any future where someone could stand me for the rest of their lives.
“My time of death?” I lift both eyebrows at him again, “I’d hope so,” He rolls his eyes, “No. You know what I mean,”
“It’s all shit, Bryce.”
He shakes his head. He’s a stubborn man, but we’ve had this exact same conversation so many times before, he knows it’s better to not insist.
“You’re incorrigible,” He says, with a sad smile.
There’s a small part of me that tells me I know perfectly well that I’d weep if I ever found someone to share my life with. I shut it down quickly with memories of heartbreak and anniversaries where I’d been the only one to remember.
Saturday, December 8th THEO The next time I see Sam Wilcox, he’s sitting at the same table, completely pissed. It’s only the beginning of my set and he’s already drunk enough to be flushed. His tie has now come off, but he’s stunning anyway. I think he’d be stunning in anything. SAM I hate this place with a passion. I could be home having a couple of beers with one of my friends or hanging out in the park with my fluffy dog, Muppet. Instead, I’m here just to avoid pissing off George. I mean, the Club is nice, and the drinks are nice to try instead of my usual brew, but it’s just not my thing. He insists I need to start socialising withour peoplesince I’m supposed to inherit the Club when he passes. I’ve already told him I won’t. I love my career, and although the course I chose to study got me kicked out of his house, we somehow mended ou
December 15th SAM Today I’m buzzing with excitement about seeing Theo. I mean, I don’t actually know if we’re doing the hang out thing today, but he did say he’d see me next week, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about. In hindsight, I probably should have asked him for his number, but the way he seemed to be closing off made me think he’d just sneer at me and leave, so I didn’t. I’m hoping to get it today, though. I’m fixing my hair in Andrea’s living room. Jack is here too, they’re going over wedding invitation samples and whatnot. Wedding stuff. Her sofa comes in handy when I need to crash in London, and it’s free, automatically making it better than any hotel. Jack clears his throat. I look at him as he raises one of his perfect eyebrows at me, “Going to see someone?” “Huh? No, I’m just off to the Club with George,” Andrea shoots him a look. “Sam, don’t,” “I’m not doing anything,” She roll
TheoAt first, it’s incredibly awkward as we trudge together to my car. He waits until I’ve clicked my seatbelt on to follow me inside.Sam more or less stumbles into my car and grins at me from the passenger seat. He's lovely in his brown suit that compliments his curls, the perfect picture of formality, yet he carries the clothes like he isn’t used to them. As the rain starts falling harder, he shivers.“One I’d think these stiff suits would be thicker, but no, I’m freezing out here,” he says.I bite my lip to hide a grin.“That’s why you're meant to wear a coat over it. Seriously, Wilcox, how have you survived this long?”“Wearing comfy stuff. Sweats. Mittens and all the nice fluffy jumpers,” he replies like it’s obvious."Christ."My heart is racing with the endless possibilities this night is offering. I mean, I was tired, but I’ve been goi
Sam We’re outside his flat, and I’m not even surprised we’re in bloody Kensington. At first, I suggested eating in the car, but I could tell he wasn’t fond of the idea. He shook his head. “Sod it, let’s go to my flat. Promise not to murder me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nope. My murder shift starts at three a.m. You’re good.” I think I’ve been here once before, during a flower delivery for Lyla. Those days, where I’d spend all day driving around London, visiting offices and posh apartments endlessly hold some of my favourite memories. During those hot summers, I’d drink Coke and fizzy lemonade on the van, and vibe to her 80’s cd’s, because of course, the van didn’t have Bluetooth. The rest of the year, I’d heavily lean on cheap gas station coffee to survive the day. It helped me become familiar with every nook and cranny around London. So, it’s not surprising that I figured it out on the way back from the bagel shop. All t
I’m telling him about my cousin, who lives downstairs when he yawns and rests his head on the arm of my sofa, clearly exhausted. I don’t know how, but we’ve been inching closer as the minutes pass and our stories keep going on. It almost feels like we’ve known each other for a lifetime, and not just a few weeks. That’s how I’ve been told it works. Chemistry. Compatibility. Old souls reincarnating to find each other life afterlife. I truly don’t believe any of that rubbish, but he’s fun to talk to, and as far as I’ve seen, is the least judgmental bloke I’ve met. Every time I think he’s going to look outraged by one of my old Secondary school studies, he laughs instead. A musical, loud laugh that makes me blush. “Am I boring you, Sam?”, I ask as I glance at my wristwatch. It’s three A.M. already. “God no, it’s just-“ he says before another big yawn, “I’ve been up for ages.”
December 21st I feel like a proper fool as I sit at the piano and see Sam out of the corner of my eye. Tonight, he is sharing his table with a red-haired woman, chatting and laughing like they’re the only people in the room. She has her long fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he’s only looking at her. His big curious eyes focused on hers, the rest of us unworthy of his attention. I wonder why he didn’t think of having some class and going somewhere else. I close my eyes and breathe in, thanking myself for replying vaguely to his texts this week about visiting him. I school my face back to casual boredom, trying to stop my hands from shaking. These feelings of rejection, I can handle. I’m familiar with them. Thank Christ it ends here. I can’t look at him again. I start playing Chopin’s nocturnes to match my mood and try to mute everyone around me. If I can get this set d
SAM Staring at Theo during his set is probably more than I should be allowed to do, but I indulged anyway. Now that I’ve gotten to spend a few hours with him, I’m latching onto the slightest possibility of us dating. Or seeing each other again. His accent is posh, and all his mannerisms are too, but I find myself relating to the things he says. Despite our wildly different backgrounds, he’s still figuring out who he wants to be. He’s a little lost, but that’s okay. I can be his company, as long as he wants me there. “Hey,” Rose taps my hand, and holds her drink up to my face, “Try this cocktail. It’s insane.” I grin at her and take a sip directly from her straw, “Oh wow, the peaches are really coming out. Lovely,” She laughs, and she’s pretty. Her long hair flows down her shoulders and back like a silky curtain, and her eyes are sparkling now. I do not doubt that she deserves to find someone who cherishes her and wants to try every singl
Sam“I, Uh-no,”Theo runs a hair through his hair and looks at the door behind me, “Then what the hell are you doing here?”“I wanted to talk to you, you weren’t outside,” I babble because I don’t know what I expected. For him to throw himself into my arms? Maybe.Instead, his gaze is cold and bored.“You shouldn’t be here, this is an employee-only area, so,” he stands up and straightens his jacket. He’s the image of self-control, poised and composed while dismissing me like I didn’t talk to him for hours on the floor of his living room.I know better than this, though.“Look, I get that you might be confused since we hung out last week,” he explains, “But trust me, it was just a one-time thing. We had a fun, experimental night, part of living out your twenties and all that, but I think that’s what it is. Y