Just Between Us (34 page)

Twenty-Six
– Just glimpses

Back Then

Two months after I started university I was just starting to feel like myself again. I had been heartbroken those first few weeks and could barely lift my head from my pillow to get to classes. I forced myself to make it and even managed to speak to a few strangers along the way. Luckily, I made a few friends at my halls of residence, one of which a girl named Becky, who had left a boyfriend at home and was also heartbroken. She knew I had broken up with someone but not the specifics. We bonded over
Bridget Jones Diary,
a packet of twenty Marlboro lights, and bottles of Sauvignon Blanc.

             
I started to go out more, made some friends on my course, and all the girls on my floor attended the university bar most nights as a group. Ashley would counsel me over the phone, and I became pretty good at existing and saving my heartache for when I pulled my duvet over my head at night. The drink helped numb the pain … a lot.

             
It was a November night as we danced in a local club that I realised I was starting to feel better. I felt confident that I was looking good at least. My new friend Becky, and I rocked on the dance floor. Getting sweaty and singing at the top of our voices to the latest chart music. I lost myself in the music and was approached by various boys who wanted to dance with me. I was also chatted up at the bar and waved away someone who wanted to buy me a drink.

             
I felt good, I felt alive, and I felt like I was healing.

             
Becky and I staggered to a nearby take away before getting a taxi home. We sat across from each other eating chips, laughing and at that point my mobile phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up and almost dropped it, as there for the first time in two months was a text from Kyle.

             
I miss you.

             
I gasped, sat back in my chair, and felt hot all over.

             
“What?” Becky asked, jumping round the table to see what had happened, she read the name and then the text and said, “Oh.”

             
I breathed deeply and felt the carefree evening disappear in a cloud of nostalgia.

             
“Just ignore it,” Becky said, putting her arm around me. “It’s two am he’s probably pissed, lonely, and thinking you’re moving on with your life.”

             
I nodded slowly, “And I felt like I was … moving on that is.”

             
“Come on.” She linked my arm, “ignore it and let’s go home.”

Later that night when I climbed into bed, I got another text.

             
I still miss you.

             
I stared at the text and wondered how bad it would be to text back? Of course Ashley and I had discussed this at length, exhausting my budget of free minutes that I was allocated on my mobile phone contract. It was best to have no contact with him, don’t text or ring, and try my best to get on with my life. That was easier said than done. Even though Kyle and I had been anything but conventional, we had been great together and he made me laugh, I loved spending time with him and of course he was insanely attractive and even now my body ached for him. It was horrendous.

             
I resisted for twenty minutes and then eventually caved.

             
I miss you too,
I replied.

             
He called almost instantly, and I stared at his name flashing up on my phone like it wasn’t true, suddenly so unsure. I answered.

             
“Hi,” I whispered, despite being alone in my small cell-like university room with its exposed brickwork and various posters, I was afraid to be overheard.

             
“Hi,” he said, his voice also in a whisper but the deepness of it made my heart skip a beat and the rawness of him made me want him instantly.

             
“You Okay?” I asked.

             
“Yes, you?”

             
Our conversation started out tentatively as any conversation between two people separated by circumstance would, however, half an hour later we were laughing and filling each other in on the lost months. It was like speaking to an old friend that I might never have the chance to talk to again, and so we had to tell each other every detail that we could recall from our time apart, just in case there wasn’t the opportunity again. It broke my heart all over again hearing about his new life and made me realise that despite our summer Kyle was never mine. I had no claim on him and now he was the furthest thing from mine that I could imagine.

             
“Let me come to see you,” he said quietly, as the clock was ticking quickly to the morning. We had been on the phone for over an hour.

             
“Oh Kyle …” I said, “as much as I would love that, is it really a good idea?”

             
“I think so,” he said firmly.

             
“We’d just be even more miserable,” I sighed, “it’s taken me two months to be able to smile again and this conversation alone is going to set me back.”

             
“Have you been thinking about me?” he asked.

             
“Constantly,” I replied, a groan in my voice at the pathetic girl I was. I couldn’t hide how much I was drawn to Kyle Hanson, just like every girl. I had visions of him swamped by girls at Exeter uni, and it gave me physical pain.

             
“Why shouldn’t we see each other then?” he asked, earnestly.” Why be miserable alone when we can be together?”

             
“Where would it end Kyle?” I asked, “Sneak around for another couple of years and never move on.”

             
He was quiet, “I know where you’re coming from Soph,” he said. We both knew, our little arrangement meant that we wouldn’t move on, wouldn’t meet other people and we had accepted university as the end of it all, a boundary that we could work with. If we extended the perimeter it was dangerous and where would that lead?

             
“Maybe we should just wait it out until Christmas, try and make things work apart and … then hopefully we can be friends when we see each other then.”

             
“Okay,” he said cheerily, eerily unlike Kyle’s usual banter.

             
We chatted a little more and eventually I put my phone down when the sun was almost ready to rise. I slept for a couple of hours and when I awoke the conversation felt like a dream. I didn’t know if the boundaries had shifted and if now we would text regularly or he would ever call again. I waited for him to make another move, not wanting to embarrass myself and get myself into hot water craving Kyle every second of every day all over again.

             
He didn’t call. He didn’t come home for Christmas that year, either.

             
The next time his name flashed on my screen and my heart raced was the middle of the night in my final year at university when I laid curled in Simon’s arms. I jumped out of bed at the sound of the shrill noise, assuming it would be serious at this time of night. I saw his name, glared at it, and dashed into the corridor away from a sleeping Simon.

             
I gulped and answered the phone. “Soph?” the gruff voice asked. I could hear the alcohol affecting his voice and could almost taste him, his voice so welcoming to me like a hot bubble bath after being caught in the rain.

             
“Yes, Kyle, yes, are you Okay?” I whispered.

             
“I need you Soph,” he crowed, “it’s all fucked up.”

             
“Kyle,” I chattered, “Kyle calm down, what’s happened where are you?”

             
“Oh God.” He began to weep, “I’m such a stupid fuck up.”

             
We spoke for an hour as he sobered up, he was upset, but he didn’t divulge as to why. He asked how I was, he asked how my life was, and whether I was happy. We were like strangers. It was comforting yet awkward at the same time. I moved into the lounge, curled up on the sofa under a blanket and listened to his familiar voice. When the conversation ended, he was in a better frame of mind, and we said our goodbyes. I thought about saying I missed him, thought about telling him how I had for three years but as the conversation ended he sighed and said, “You were right, Soph. I’m not the happy ending for you.” I crawled back into bed with Simon who instinctively curled into me. All I could do was think of Kyle, his voice, his sadness, his life, and I knew that even though I was here with Simon, it would always be Kyle that I wanted. But … Simon was who I would allow myself to have.

Two years later Kyle came home for Christmas. I was still living at home but saving for a house with Simon. Kyle hadn’t given Mum much notice, but she was extremely excited and even though Mick didn’t show it, he was too. He had mellowed towards Kyle these last few years and they had built a mutual respect for each other. My mum had refused to let them become estranged, forcing Mick to visit Kyle when he was settled, so they disappeared weekends at a time to see my elusive step-brother. Mick and he had become closer through the years but they still lacked the strong foundations that a father son bond was built on.

             
Simon and I had our Christmas planned, and when I heard Kyle was coming home, my mind was sent into a spin. I wondered how it would be, us under the same roof. I wondered how it would feel to see him, whether he had someone, whether he would see me and wonder what the hell he was thinking all those years ago. Our attraction may have died years ago, but we never had the chance to find out.

             
“I think I should spend Christmas day at home, considering Kyle is back. He may never come again,” I told Simon. We had planned to go to his parent’s house. He nodded. I wanted to be with Kyle and my parents, and selfishly, I didn’t want him there.

             
“I understand,” he said kissing my head. He was so ridiculously understanding that it was hard to ever ruffle his feathers. I knew he wouldn’t fight for me, I knew he wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t there. It was easy for me, but there was a small part of me that was disappointed that he didn’t insist I be with him, insist that I was by his side.

             
Christmas day was lovely. The four of us spent the morning opening gifts and ate a lazy breakfast of eggs and bacon. Mum put the turkey in the oven and then we all walked to the local pub for a couple of drinks with other Christmas revellers. The pub was packed to the rafters, and only open for a few hours so people had to go home to continue celebrations. We left at around three and Kyle regaled us with stories of his life in London. He placed an arm around my shoulder casually as we traipsed through the ice-laden pathway to home. Mum and Mick marched ahead, laughing and chatting, and we held up the rear.

             
At home the table was beautifully laid out. Mum was so glad to have us both there and she took her time preparing the vegetables so we started to play monopoly in our Christmas hats, drinking wine.

             
“This is nice,” Mick bellowed as Mum finally sat down, a starter of prawn cocktail sitting in front of us all.

             
“Isn’t it just …” Mum sighed, “oh Kyle, we don’t see enough of you back up here.”

             
“I know,” he shook his head and gave us all a grin, “today’s been great, thanks.”

             
Mum misted over a little as she squeezed his hand. “Any time.” She smiled.

             
The day was wonderful. It was as if we had never been apart and the attraction that I considered faltered was still there. It was almost impossible to deny but I had no idea whether Kyle still felt it. I had Simon, I was happy, and he fit my plan, and so I just had to suppress the urge to throw myself at Kyle and beg him to take me into our shared bathroom for another round on the sink unit.

             
Simon was the furthest thing from my mind, despite a few texts throughout the day. That night we all went to bed after a thoroughly enjoyable day, playing games, eating too much food, and watching Christmas television in the party room.

             
As I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth, Kyle poked his head around the door. I hadn’t locked it as I used to when he was there, I suppose that habit had died a long time ago.

             
“Night Soph,” he said with a grin, “great to see you.”

             
I nodded as my mouth was full of toothbrush, he disappeared behind the door again, and I wondered why that sounded like a goodbye.

             
I finished and then peeked through his door. “That sounded like a goodbye,” I said. He was surprised to see me and looked up from his book, his beautiful face illuminated by the lamp-light.