Cwtch Me If You Can (6 page)

Will looks at me like a wounded puppy. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small box and holding it out to me. ‘I got you this. I'd bought it for you for Valentine's, even though we decided not to do presents, only…'

I look at the box. My hand is itching to reach out and take it, and forgive him, and give him another chance because he's really trying.

But then I look over at Sean – I catch him looking at us, and he looks away quickly, pretending to be busy. I bite my lip, turning back to Will. Just as I thought I'd got over him, he comes swanning back into my life, and even though I spent weeks after our break-up wishing for him to call me, begging me to take him back, now, I can't see why I ever wanted him back.

I let out a sharp breath, resolved. I've never dumped anyone before; I've always been the one being dumped. But we're not exactly dating now, so I don't think I can call this breaking up with him.

I reach over and push his hand away. ‘It's not going to happen, Will.'

‘But –'

‘What happened to that other girl?'

He looks away. ‘Things didn't really work out. That was when I realised that I wanted you back, and I should never have ended things between us, and –'

‘Stop talking, okay? You can't just take me to dinner and give me jewellery and think I'll be falling all over you. I've moved on. And I deserve better than someone who dumps me on Valentine's Day.'

I toss my napkin on the table and grab my handbag, leaving him behind like he left me.

‘Alex! Wait! Alex!'

It's not Will who's chasing me out of the doors. It's Sean.

I'm tearful, and I hate myself for it. I don't want to be upset over Will again.

I expect him to start asking me what I was doing with Will, but instead he just asks, ‘Are you okay?'

‘Not really.' I hug my arms around myself against the cold. ‘That was Will. He wanted another chance. I don't even know what I saw in him. I'm such an idiot.' I blink away some tears, and sniffle.

‘You look like you need a cwtch,' Sean tells me, with a friendly smile.

I laugh, sniffling again, and let him wrap his arms around me and hold me close. He smells like Italian food and aftershave, and I hook my arms around his waist.

When I pull away from the hug, I have to wipe away another tear. ‘I'm sorry. I'm such a mess.'

He shakes his head. ‘No you're not.'

I smile, but I'm not convinced. I glance back into the restaurant, where I can see Will throwing his fork down and running a hand through his hair, and calling to a passing waitress. I don't want to have to talk to him again. I want to be gone before he leaves the restaurant.

‘I should go.'

‘Need me to call you a taxi?' Sean asks, eyes twinkling.

I roll my eyes. ‘Very funny.'

When I walk away from him, I'm smiling.

Chapter Seven

I'm working the next day. It's late Thursday morning, and it's slow. Cerys and I have already dissected my so-called date with Will, and are talking about her plans for her anniversary with her girlfriend next week (they're going to a cottage in St Ives) when Sean walks in.

I turn away from the door to look at Cerys, my eyes as wide as they can go. Her eyes are just as wide, and the only difference in our expressions is that she's smiling.

‘Shut up,' I hiss, but she only stifles a giggle. I turn back so I'm facing the counter, trying my best to look calm and collected. Sean's still in the doorway, looking for a table – or at least pretending to – and he's with two other guys.

The other guys, who I guess are his mates, look at me in a way that they probably think is subtle, but isn't, and then they look at each other, raising eyebrows and pulling faces. Sean turns to them, pointing at a table.

After last night, I don't know what I should say to him. That's the second time he's comforted me, and I don't know how to thank him for it. I also don't know if he did it because he cares about me, or just because he's a nice guy.

One of the guys glances back over at me, and I stare down at my nails, trying to look as if I'm not bothered by any of this. I really need to sort out my cuticles, I think, getting distracted. Then they're standing in front of me.

‘Hi,' says Sean.

‘Hi.' My voice gives me away – it comes out squeaky and nervous. I clear my throat. ‘What can I get you?'

‘I'll have a medium latte,' says one of his mates, pushing Sean aside. Is it just a coincidence that they've all come here when I'm working? I can't tell. Are they here acting like wingmen?Or are they just trying to make Sean feel awkward?

I sort out the latte, and the other guy's large mocha and a cookie, and they go off to a table on the other side of the room, leaving me at the counter with Sean. Cerys announces that she's going to clean some tables and make sure there's enough milk out. I grab her arm but she shrugs me off.

Leaving me and Sean, effectively, alone.

I'm not nervous. I don't have any reason to be nervous.

‘So,' I say, after drawing in a deep breath. ‘What can I get you?'

‘Latte, please. Medium.'

‘Any goodies?' I gesture at the glass case of cakes and sweet things.

‘Are you on the menu?' He winks, and I can't help but burst out laughing.

I say, ‘Sean, are you flirting with me?'

His grin is mischievous. ‘Sorry, but you left that line open for the taking. I couldn't resist.'

‘So no cakes?'

‘No cakes.'

I put it through the till, and as I'm making the latte, I say to Sean, trying my best to be casual, ‘Did you, um, did you go back home for the holidays?'

‘Yeah, but I came back a couple of days ago. It's a bit easier to revise here. A little more peace and quiet, and I'm working, too, so…'

‘Yeah. Fair enough.'

‘How about you?'

‘Oh, I'm not that far away. It's not long on the train to come into work, or if they want me on the early shift, I can stay in the house here rather than at home. But that's kind of lonely, because none of the girls are back yet. Their uni term doesn't start again for a little while.'

He nods, and I push the latte across the counter to him. I don't let go of it before he wraps his hand around the cup – so around my hand, too. I blush, and my hand starts to sweat. Only I can't take it away and wipe it on my trousers. That would be even more embarrassing. Oh, man, I hope he can't tell my palms are sweating.

I look up from the latte and our hands to see Sean studying my face. He meets my eyes. I gulp.

‘Are you still hung up on that guy from last night?'

‘Actually, I think I'm finally over him. Last night was just… closure. I mean, I thought I loved him, but now I'm starting to think that I just fell for all the romantic gestures, you know? I know it sounds shallow, but…'

‘It doesn't sound shallow.'

‘I'm over him,' I say, sure of it now. I told Cathy the same last night, over the phone, when I got home, and she was totally speechless. She said that it looked like I might be growing up.

‘In that case…' The corner of Sean's lips twist up. ‘What would you say to going out to dinner with me?'

I'm totally thrown. He's blushing a little, and I think I must be, too.

I want to say yes, so badly. But I think about every reason I have to say no, and all the times my heart has already been broken, and I know what my answer should be.

I sigh. ‘Sean…'

‘Or we could just go for coffee – only I thought you have enough of that here. We could go for drink somewhere? If you'd like?'

I stare at him a little longer, speechless.

‘Like, on a date,' he clarifies.

‘Oh. Right. Um, of course.'

Like I didn't already know that's what you meant.

‘Of course as in of course you'll go out with me?' His voice is bright, and hopeful. So is his smile. That wonderful, gorgeous smile.

‘Sean, I… I don't think it's such a good idea.'

‘If you really don't fancy me, or whatever, then tell me. It's okay. I'm a big boy, I can take it.' He's joking, but it's half-hearted.

‘No, it's not that. Look, this isn't the best time. What with trying to keep on top of my coursework, and my job, I've got enough on my plate without starting a new relationship, you know? I'm sorry.'

I don't mention that, knowing my luck, any relationship wouldn't go anywhere anyway. Sean's in his final year of his degree. He might do his teacher training somewhere else. I might never see him again after his exams, if he goes back home for the summer and then goes somewhere else to become a teacher.

We're just not meant to be.

Because even though we keep running into each other, there's no such thing as fate.

The more I think about dating Sean, the more I convince myself it'll end in heartbreak, and the more I convince myself I'm jinxed when it comes to romance.

Sean smiles at me. ‘That's okay. I understand. Your college class is important, and it's great that you're working so hard at it.'

‘I'm sorry. I really am.'

‘Don't be. I understand.'

And from the genuine smile still on his face, I believe he does.

‘Well,' he says then, reaching for a napkin from the pile nearby, ‘give me a pen. I'll give you my number, and if you want a break from revision and work – a cup of tea, a few pints, whatever, then give me a call, and we can hang out. As mates, yeah?'

I hand him the pen we use to write on the takeaway cups, and he carefully writes out his mobile number for me. I take it, and he takes his latte. ‘Thanks.'

‘Seriously, any time. Just let me know.'

‘I will,' I promise him. ‘I will.'

I don't.

I don't call him, that is, because I'm not that stupid.

I know how this would work out: we'd start hanging out as mates, and then we'd grow close quickly, and end up kissing, then going on a couple of casual dates, then we'd sleep together because I'd be head over heels for him, and then things will break down and he'll break my heart. Just like all the others.

So even though a couple of times I type out a text to him about meeting up for drinks later in the evening, or grabbing lunch somewhere to catch up, I don't go through with it. I delete the texts and toss my phone aside. And I definitely don't call him.

‘I want to, don't get me wrong,' I tell Cathy over the phone. I've got my mobile tucked between my cheek and my shoulder, and I hunch over in my desk chair in my room, painting my toenails. They're a fierce, bright blue. ‘But…'

‘I've gotta be honest, I really didn't think you were serious about this whole no-dating thing. You cried over that movie,
John Tucker Must Die
, for Christ's sake. You cried over Mitch and Cam's wedding in
Modern Family
. You're hopeless for romance.'

‘Are you always going to bring that up?'

‘You know it.'

I sigh, and say, ‘Look, I just know this is never going to work. I'm trying to be sensible and save myself the heartache.'

‘And you're missing out on a lot of fun in the meantime. Come on, he's a nice guy! Why don't you just go out as friends? Make it a group thing. I'll come along, and you can get

him to bring some mates, too. And then even if you two don't get together, maybe I'll hook up with one of his mates.'

She laughs, and I roll my eyes, because she can't see me do it. ‘I told you. I can't
just
be friends with him.'

‘Please, you haven't even tried!'

‘He is
literally
everything I could want in a guy. Smart. Good-looking. Funny. Nice. Lives kind of near. Has an idea of what he wants to do with his life. I cannot hang out with a guy like that and not fall for him.'

‘If he's so perfect, then –'

I groan. ‘We're going round in circles. Can we just not talk about Sean any more, please?'

‘Fine,' she mumbles. ‘But you brought him up.'

‘Are you definitely coming back to the house tomorrow?' The girls have exams coming up soon. Julia's on holiday and won't be back here for a week yet, and Ellie's coming back on Wednesday, on the train. I've only been here a couple of days on my own, but it already feels lonely.

‘Of course I am.' We start talking about how we need to buy more soap and bleach for the house bathroom, and whether Cathy should take a break from revision with a girly movie night with me later this week.

She tries to bring up the subject of Sean again, but I avoid it. All the talk of Sean, and relationships, is making me think about what a mess all my other relationships have been.

I look under my bed, thinking about the train-wreck that is my love life history, and I'm distracted for the rest of the call.

After I hang up the phone, and finish painting my toes, I reach underneath my bed and pull out the four shoeboxes there.

I take the lids off and look inside them, thinking about the four guys who broke my heart. And I think, I deserve better than to hang on to all this crap.

I grab the oldest shoebox. I suck in a deep breath, and upturn the box into my bin.

I pick up the second box.

I'm purging, I tell myself. I'm getting rid of all this bad energy. The next shoebox gets emptied into my bin, too.

Maybe I should have burned all of this a long time ago, I think, looking at the now empty shoeboxes and my overflowing bin. Maybe burning it would make me feel better.

Then there's the final shoebox, with everything from my relationship with Will. The heart necklace he gave me is on the top, catching the light. I remember how happy I was when he gave it to me. How in love I was.

I've always believed in love. In romance. In butterflies in my stomach telling me
he's The One!
and that feeling so strong and so consuming that it could only be love.