“Whose pool is this?”

“Don’t you worry, Natalie.”

She clasped her hands behind her back. Squeezed them tight. Then tighter.

“So this isn’t your house?” she said.

“No.” He bent by the pool cover reel, started unwinding it. “I sure as hell don’t live in Clapham.”

She tried to control her ragged breathing, unclasped her hands, pinched her thigh. Thought about the Pascal book on her desk in Chelsea that she needed to finish - needed to dive deeper into his argument that we wander the past and future to flee the pain of the present. She imagined getting home, opening the book and curling into a ball on the sofa. An attempt to bypass the fear of getting caught on the edge of a stranger’s pool.

“Natalie?” she heard him say.

He was staring at her with those wild eyes. More bewilderment than concern which somehow made it all seem like it could be alright.

“Will the owner care?” she said, fighting the wobble in her voice. “That we’re swimming in their pool.”

With the cover fully wound, he stood, brushed his hands together while he walked towards her. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t flick his hand away. Just felt her chest heave.

“This is my cousins’ place,” he said. “They know we’re here.”

She let go of her thigh, shook out the tension in her hands as she took in the pool. It was a weird shape, almost like a teardrop. A wide one - one that had built before it suddenly fell.

“Where are they?” she said, slipping off her shoes and sitting down on the grey stone that lined the rim of the pool.

“They’re in Portugal,” he said, sitting down next to her. “At that place everyone goes. The one where the grass is always cut way too perfectly. Playing golf, eating in overpriced restaurants and being a perfect family.”

She pulled her knees into her chest.

“Quinta do Lago?” she said and he nodded. “Doesn’t strike me as your kind of place.”

“Why?”

“I went there when I was fifteen with my dad’s ex wife and her preppy step kids.” Natalie ran her finger through the gap between the stone tiles. “It felt like everyone was pretending. Like there was a script or something I was meant to be following. I got drunk enough on white wine every night at dinner that I didn’t really care where I was or that my dad didn’t even notice.”

“I hope the white wine was expensive.”

Her finger trailed back and forth, her gaze following.

“It was, but I can’t drink the stuff anymore.”

“Only vodka now?”

“Only vodka now.”

“Well Quinta fucking do Lago doesn’t sound like your kind of place either.”

“I think we might agree on something,” she said. “I like the ocean, though.”

He glanced at her hand, the one still grazing along the ground. Grabbed it. Held it. Waited until she looked at him. And when she did, she felt her stomach unclench a little.

“You like the ocean?” he said.

“Weirdly, I do.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous.”

His eyes tightened.

“And it doesn’t really care,” she said. “About all the bullshit we delude ourselves into thinking matters. Just does its thing.”

He squeezed her hand and something warm spread through her body.

“I’ll bring you to the ocean next time. But the pool will have to do for today.”

The wide teardrop was a green-blue. The water didn’t look dirty but it did look real. She’d need to shower after, before picking up Pascal to finish that one reading and doing the rest before the sun came up tomorrow.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” she said, assessing her pyjamas. The boxer shorts and thin cream top. “And you haven’t earned the privilege of seeing me naked yet.”

His eyebrows shot up before she could regret the words.

“Yet?” he said.

She let go of his hand and immediately felt cold.

“Easy, Natalie,” he continued. “I know I’m shockingly charming but I’m a gentleman.”

She scowled. Hard. Gritted her teeth as he smiled. Bit down on her bottom lip as he brought his elbow to the ground, rested his chin in his palm and gazed at her as she sat there in her pyjamas with her unbrushed hair and teeth.

“I’m not here for your charm.”

“Why are you here then, Natalie?”

“I’m here, Hugo, because you might just be the only guy who has it in him to pick me up and throw me in the pool without asking any questions.”

“Would that make you feel alive, Natalie?”

She said nothing while they sat in stillness. Until he shifted onto his feet, looped one arm through her legs, brought the other to her back as he lifted her.

Then she was flying. With more force than she’d anticipated. Shock as she smashed the water. Felt the cold engulf her like it had been waiting. Forgot, for a second, about the Pascal reading and the 5:52 train from Marylebone. The one she needed to leave Chelsea at 4:55 for.

Her feet found the ground - rough where she thought it would feel glossy, and pushed to the surface.

Air hit her face and her cheeks stung. She caught her breath to find he was still there, on the side of the pool, in his long sleeve grey T shirt and backward cap, arms folded as he watched her peer up at him with a smirk on his sharp face.

“You’re not coming in?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Treading water, her clothes weighed heavy.

“I’m not going to beg.”

“Why not, Natalie?”

The whole name thing was becoming a problem.

“Because I don’t beg for people.”

“No?” he said, head tilted in a way that was infuriatingly endearing. “So, you just expect other people to beg for you.”

She swallowed.

“I learned my lesson begging for you, Natalie, at the shitty festival in Oxford.”

“You gave up.”

“You didn’t want me.”

“But I did.”

He took his shoes off.

And then he jumped.

What do you prefer - stability unpredictability?

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The shrill of the doorbell pierced the silence.

She rubbed her eyes, reaching for her phone.

7:28.

How she’d slept in, she had no idea.

The doorbell rang again. Longer this time, and she felt it deep in her stomach.

She only realised what she was wearing once she’d swung the door open. His restless brown eyes roaming her legs, bare beneath an oversized T-shirt that was only oversized on her.

“I thought you were an early riser,” Hugo said.

“So did I.”

He bit down on his lip. Then he passed her one of the two coffees.

“Iced long black with a bit of soy milk.”

A beat before she reached out to take it.

“How did you know my coffee order?”

“I asked Dom.”

The cool of the morning air soothed her cheeks.

“How did you explain that one?”

“Told him I was bringing you coffee.”

“Oh.”

“Was I meant to lie?”

“I hate lying so that would have been a problem.”

His smile seemed even fuller without a cap on. It reached the edges of his face.

“Alright then, Natalie,” he said, taking one step back. “Take that coffee and those bare legs back to bed.”

Another two steps back.

“Hugo.”

He stopped. “You calling my name?”

“Isn’t that the currency you trade in?”

He walked into the flat, shaking his head in a way that made the thrill of the doorbell seem trivial.

She sat on the sofa, knees curled into her chest. He sat down on the other part of the L, looked comfortable enough that it could have been his house.

“So, Natalie,” he said, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. “Why do you hate lying so much?”

“Don’t you?”

The coffee was strong. The dash of soy milk did next to nothing.

“I think there’s a case for blissful ignorance.”

“Bliss needs contrast,” she said. “Ignorance strips that.”

“So you’d choose pain over ignorance?”

The liquid landed in her empty stomach.

“I’d rather feel alive.”

He tilted his head a fraction at a time, without breaking the gaze they were locked in. Her chest swelled as he looked deeper into her. Past the parts everyone chose to see. Dangerously close to the other parts.

“And what makes you feel alive, Natalie?”

Her teeth caught the inside of her mouth. Sank into it. Then she released it.

“Why were you weird at the pub in Oxford?” she said, pulling her knees even closer into her. He scratched his head. Quite aggressively.

“I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t asking for an apology, I was asking why you were weird.”

“Jesus.”

His socks were discoloured in a way that made it hard to tell if there was dirt sticking to the bottom of them.

“I told you,” he continued. “I’m bad news.”

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

“No.”

She took a sip. The ice had watered it down. She missed the punch.

“I like that you’re not scared of me,” he said. “Even if you should be.”

“Because you think you’ll ruin me?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

He rubbed at his jaw and she realised she needed to keep hearing his voice.

“When are you going back to Bristol?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really plan.”

Another sip of the watered-down coffee. She could add another shot.

“You a planner, Natalie?”

Her name. The way he said it. A problem in the making. That already existed.

“Maybe a bit.”

She thought about her 5:52pm ticket back to Oxford. She’d need to leave for Marylebone at 5:00pm. 4:50pm to be safe.

“So, your plans for heading back to Oxford are loose?”

“Not really.”

“Come swimming with me.”

Her face scrunched. “We’re in central London, Hugo.”

“We’re in Chelsea,” he said. “Don’t worry about the where.”

Her essay was due on Thursday. That meant she should have half her reading done by Monday. She had planned on doing at least the first three today. Swimming would mess the whole thing up.

“Come on, Natalie,” he said, elbows on his knees, leaning towards her. “It might even make you feel alive.”

If she woke up early tomorrow – earlier than early – she could settle for only one reading today.

“I need to change first,” she said.

He made no effort to hide his smile as he stood, his potentially dirty socks rubbing against the carpet.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You look great.”

“I’m in my pyjamas.”

“They’re perfect.”

He held out a hand. She scowled at it.

“What’s your coffee order?” she said.

He dropped his hand.

“You bringing me one tomorrow morning?”
She scoffed.

“Cappuccino. Normal milk, none of that weird stuff.”

She nodded.

“Why, Natalie?”

“Just seemed strange,” she said. “That you knew mine.”

“Can we go now?”

She waited for his hand.

CHAPTER 7

Will she go? Give me your prediction!

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He was sitting on the steps leading up to the front door with an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips.

A different cap this time. Still backwards.

She stopped at the railings separating the white house from the street. He looked up, eyes widening when he noticed her.

“Natalie,” Hugo said. “You’re in London?”

He didn’t look away this time.

“I had a funeral this morning.”

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

“Fuck.”

Natalie laughed for the first time that day.

“Is that like a laugh, laugh,” he said, “or like a sad laugh?”

She laughed again.

“Fuck, that’s actually a laugh, laugh.” He frowned. “Was the funeral funny?”

“No,” she said. “Your reaction is terrible.”

“Who died?”

“My grandma.” Natalie shrugged. “She was old. Sad but not tragic.”

He bit his lip to try hide a smile.

“Anyway.” She prepared to return the sidestep he’d given her at the pub. “Have a good night.”

“I asked around about you.”

She’d only made it to step one.

“After that festival,” he continued. “You’re an Oxford scholar.”

“Not a real one.”

“You got offered an internship at Goldman’s and turned it down.”

“I have my reasons.”

“And you used to do modelling.”

“The industry’s toxic.”

He brought his hands to his knees and stood. Slowly. As though she had nowhere to be. As though she wasn’t planning on heading into this house party.

“I fuck good things up, Natalie.”

She climbed another step.

“You don’t have that kind of power.”

He glanced sideways. Then back to her.

“It sounds like you’ve genuinely got good things going for you,” Hugo said, shaking his head. “You don’t want me.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“You scowl.” He nodded towards her face. “When someone works something out you don’t want them to know.”

He moved down a step. She steadied her breath.

“You don’t have a patent on being fucked up,” Natalie said. “It doesn’t make you special.”

“You don’t seem fucked up.”

“Which only makes me more fucked up.”

Down another step.

“From where I’m standing, you look like the perfect girl.”

“You have an awful view then.”

“Really?” He brought his fingers to her chin, lifted it an inch. “Don’t think I’ve ever had a better one.”

A heaviness in her chest. Not the bad kind.

She shook his hand off her.

“What do you want, Hugo?”

He held both hands up.

“I’m not keeping you here.”

“But you are.”

“I’m actually not.”

The heaviness was now a burn.

“Fine,” she said, charging past him up the steps. “Stay here alone, outside the party.”

Two steps from the top.

One step.

Her hand on the front door.

“Wait, Natalie.”

“What?”

The word came out as a shout. She turned to find he was equally surprised.

“No, but seriously, what?” Natalie continued. “You can’t just keep saying my name.”

“It’s a nice name, though.”

She ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head as she scoffed.

Then he was climbing the steps. Two at a time.

Now on the doorstep, his hands grabbed her waist and her back thudded against the door. It would have taken her breath away. If he hadn’t already done that by stroking his thumbs over the bare skin on her hips.

Tipping her head back, she angled her face to his.

She’d expected that wild restlessness in his brown eyes. But all she saw was calm as he peered into her.

He didn’t move closer. Neither did she.

“Does that clarify what I want?” he whispered.

She looked to the ground, caught dirt on the hem of her jeans.

“Right,” he said. “You still won’t kiss me until I take you out.”

He released his hold of her and took a step back. She missed him, though he was right in front of her.

“When do you go back to Oxford?”

“Tomorrow night,” she said. “Why aren’t you in Bristol?”

“Not important.”

His jaw tightened. The strain on his face made her want to touch him.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“My mum’s place in Chelsea.”

Relief as he smiled.

“She must be fancy.”

“She’s not, but her ex-husband thinks he is.”

“He sounds like a dick.”

“He’s my dad.”

“Jesus, I’m really fucking up today.”

“He’s still a dick, but I love him.”

He gazed at her with something she’d not seen in his eyes before. There was lightness. Also doubt.

“What time do you wake up?” he said.

“Early.”

He didn’t need to know more.

“What’s your address?”

“Most guys just ask for my number.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You will.”

Without pulling her gaze from him, she found the doorbell and pressed it. Sharp. Like the thrill in her lower stomach.

The ring shocked her.

An equal shock when the door gave way behind her. Someone opening it. What usually happened when you rang.

“Natalie!” Tash said, pulling her in for a hug. “I see you’ve met Hugo.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Hugo said, looking between them. “How the hell do you two know each other?”

“Just London,” Tash said with disco music leaking from inside. “You coming in, Hughes?”

“Nah,” Hugo said. “Got things to do tomorrow.”

Tash looked at him like he might be joking.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say no to a party,” she said. “Let me guess, you’re off to see some girl?”

Natalie felt his eyes on her. Didn’t look at him.

“Like I said, I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow. I’ll see you back at Bristol, Tash.” He scratched the side of his mouth. “And Natalie, I’ll maybe see you tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe?” Natalie said, ignoring Tash’s pinched face.

“Yeah,” Hugo said. “Maybe.”

“I don’t do maybes.”

He looked her up and down.

“You might just have to.”

Then he walked away.

CHAPTER 6

Would you stay after his warning?

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“Putting Nikki Beach and Club 55 in the same category is criminal,” he said. “They represent two entirely different sides of the French Riviera.”

Natalie gritted her teeth to fight a yawn.

Luckily, he wasn’t even looking at her.

“It comes down to new money versus old money,” he continued, nodding at his own point. “One is a stage built for influencers, the other is a legendary spot free from paparazzi.”

Boring Matt. That’s how Natalie had described him to Amelia. Then felt immediately bad.

Now that description seemed generous.

“Don’t worry.” Matt took a sip of his overpriced gin and tonic. “You’re much more of a Club 55 girl.”

She’d been once with her dad and his girlfriend. Found the place claustrophobic.

“I’m not really into beach clubs.”

“Club 55 is rustic. You can get away with a linen shirt.”

Her fingers closed around her empty glass while she prayed the vodka would kick in.

She’d said yes in a momentary lapse of judgement. Two days ago. When her phone had vibrated outside the library and it wasn’t Hugo.

Lesson learned.

“The key is to arrive by sea,” Matt said. “Showing up by car is-”

“There’s a group at Turf Tavern,” she interrupted. “Let’s go join them.”

Savage. But she was desperate. It couldn’t go on.

“The wine there is terrible,” Matt said.

“Good thing you’re drinking spirits.”

He scrunched his face as he thought it through. It would have looked cute on literally anyone else.

“Let’s go,” she said, scraping her chair back with more force than she’d meant to.

She kept her arms tightly folded as they walked, a balminess to the air beneath the overcast sky. He rambled on about the Politics modules he’d chosen for their final year while she thought about the light above her desk. She’d turned it off. She was sure of it. At least, she thought she was sure. But maybe not.

The pub garden was heaving now the term had officially begun.

“Natalie,” Dom shouted, flicking ash over Amelia as he waved them over.

“Go sit,” Natalie said to boring Matt, giving him a shove towards the table. “I’ll get you gin and tonic.”

“A double would be lovely.”

So would claiming back the last hour of her life.

She thought again about the light above her desk as she walked towards the bar. Thought about the essay she needed to write as she shoved against the door. Thought about the run she’d repeat in the morning as she bumped into a guy in a backwards cap.

Thought about those restless brown eyes as he turned and she found herself gazing at Hugo.

He looked away and she realised something. It was the first time he’d ever looked away from her.

“What’s wrong?”

She hadn’t meant to ask out loud.

“Why would something be wrong?” Hugo said.

“I don’t know.”

Her cheeks flushed. She wasn’t sure what she was embarrassed about.

“I’ll see you out there,” he said, stepping past her.

She watched the door bang shut. Stared at it for a few seconds. Then turned to the bar.

The bartender straightened when he saw her. Looked nervous. He was cute in a way that would suit one of the cousins on her mum’s side.

Once she’d secured the drinks, both doubles, she headed out back, setting the gin in front of Matt before claiming a chair at the other end of the table.

“Where’s Hugo gone?” she asked her friends.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “He went out front for a cigarette.”

“But he can smoke here?”

She watched boring Matt wince at the gin and tonic. Then she winced at him wincing.

“Natalie.” Amelia waited for her to look up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re being weird,” Dom said.

“Sorry.” Natalie wondered what she was sorry about. “Hugo basically ignored me inside.”

Amelia inhaled sharply. “Maybe he’s embarrassed you rejected him seventeen times?”

“Definitely not,” Dom said. “He doesn’t get embarrassed.”

Natalie took a gulp. The sugar hit her before the vodka did. It felt sticky in her mouth.

A shuffling at the other end of the table as Hugo pulled up a chair next to Matt.

It made her nostalgic for when he’d pulled up a chair next to her.

Another gulp of the drink.

She looked at him while he looked at anything but her.

He slipped, for a brief moment. His eyes caught hers and she saw shock in his face. The same shock she felt in her body.

This time it was her gaze that moved first. Locking on the sugary drink in front of her.

They played several rounds of this new game they were playing, until Matt cornered Hugo into a conversation.

Natalie listened as Matt asked why he’d chosen Economics at Bristol. Hugo said he hadn’t put much thought into the whole thing. Did well at Economics in school and Bristol seemed like a good time. Only really went to university because that’s what you’re meant to do.

Matt told him it was a privileged assumption to make. As though he spoke on behalf of those without the privilege. The guy who claimed to frequent Club 55 by sea.

“He’s full of shit,” Dom said quietly to Natalie.

“Yeah,” she responded. “I don’t know why I said yes to a date with him.”

Though she did.

“Not boring Matt,” Dom said. “Hugo. His whole sleepwalking through life act. He just finished an internship at one of the big law firms. They offered him a job.”

Natalie initiated another round of the game, trying to catch Hugo’s eyes. Like they were a gateway to him. Full of answers she now needed.

Instead, that random blonde from the festival emerged behind him. Whispered something in his ear. Hugo pulled her onto his lap and tapped her leg.

The sugary taste in Natalie’s mouth was displaced by something else. What she imagined acid would taste like.

She grabbed her drink and tipped it back. Only ice.

Another would make tomorrow’s run more painful. Slow her down in the library the next day.

“I’m heading back,” she said to no one in particular. “I have an essay due.”

“I can come with you,” Amelia said.

“No, stay. The guy you fancy from the hockey team just walked in.”

“In that case you’re on your own.”

Perfect.

There was a chill in the air as she walked. Past the honey-toned building she’d had Theology tutorials in with that weird professor whose breath smelled. The gothic archway she’d kissed the South African exchange student under. And the cobbled street that led to the counsellor’s office. The useless one that told her she should just try relaxing.

Her phone buzzed from her back pocket.

“Mum?” she said, raising it to her ear.

“Hi, baby.”

The voice that had taught her love. And its dangers.

“I saw you were awake early. I hope you didn’t run too far,” her mum continued. “Though I did see an article that said running is good for anxiety.”

“I can’t tell if you want me running or not running.”

“Balance!”

Natalie rubbed at her eye, not caring if she smudged her mascara.

“Anyway, did you run into that guy again?” her mum went on. “The one you didn’t let kiss you at the festival for no reason.”

“There were good reasons.”

Her mum tutted. “Remember what I said about giving people a chance.”

“The case is closed.”

“I have a feeling you’ll reopen it. You’re not great at just letting things be.”

Natalie stopped in the middle of the street. “Mum, this isn’t helpful.”

“I actually called about something else,” her mum said. “I have some bad news.”

“It can’t be that bad if we were just chit chatting.”

“It’s quite bad, baby.”

Her mum was right. It was quite bad.

CHAPTER 5

Give me your best guess - what’s going on with Hugo?

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Her legs ached.

There had been bruises on them earlier that morning. She’d seen them in the mirror as she tugged her sports bra over her head, irritated when it caught on her shoulders.

She clenched her hands as she ran, hiding the tremor from herself. Thanks to the vodka. That double Hugo had brought her.

She ran faster, her legs now screaming. Water sloshing in her otherwise empty stomach.

Maybe you should have just kissed him. That’s what her insomniac mum had said as they texted at 2am. While Natalie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she’d fucked it.

But no.

Surely, if he wanted her badly enough, he would text.

“Stroke,” a cox yelled from one of the rowboats gliding along the river.

Natalie started sprinting. Until she came to a hard stop on the bridge at the edge of town. Where early-rising tourists were taking pictures of the sky. The band of pink that hugged the river. She’d run five miles without noticing it.

Along the High Street, coffee shops were only just waking up.

A single trickle of sweat ran down her forearm. She admired it. The proof she’d run hard enough.

There was no sign of life from Amelia’s side of their apartment. Separate bedrooms off a shared living room overlooking the meadow.

She went straight to the shower. Cold water first. Just for the shock of it. Then hot. For how many minutes, she had no idea.

“Natalie, you’re going to cause a drought,” Amelia yelled, banging on the door. “You’ve been in there for twenty-five minutes.”

With wrinkled fingers, Natalie fumbled with her towel, wrapping it tight around her body.

“You’ve already been running?” Amelia said as Natalie emerged.

“Just a short one.”

Natalie watched steam leak from the bathroom. Not overly interesting but she was keen to avoid the look of disapproval she knew was painted across Amelia’s face.

“How was the rest of the night?” Natalie asked.

“Same old.” Amelia fell onto the sofa in her flannel pyjamas. “We sat around a table with music blaring through a single speaker. No one made much sense.”

“Was Hugo there?”

Amelia rolled her eyes, reaching for a pillow which she hugged against her chest. “Yes.”

Natalie’s hair dripped onto the floor.

“He kept taking my sunglasses off me,” she said. “Told me he needed to see my eyes.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“It was persistent.”

“It’s not unusual for guys to comment on the way you look,” Amelia said. “You usually don’t give a shit.”

“He looked at me differently.”

“Like he wanted to fuck you?”

“Like I was intriguing.”

“Well, I don’t think he normally gets rejected.”

“Did I reject him?”

“Several times,” Amelia said. “You know he doesn’t date, right?”

Natalie walked to the window, hauling it open with her tired arms. She felt the breeze on her exposed collarbones.

“I’m jumping in the shower – if there’s any water left.” Amelia got up from the sofa, hands pressing against her head as she winced. “Then let’s go get a cooked breakfast? I need salt and oil.”

“I’m going to the library.”

“What?” Amelia said. “Natalie, you smashed every essay you wrote last year. You don’t need to worry about not getting a first.”

“I don’t care about the first.”

“Then why are you studying on a hangover day, before the term has even started?”

“Just because.”

“Suit yourself, I’ll go find Dom,” Amelia said, pausing by the door. “Who hot Hugo just happens to be staying with.”

“So, you admit he’s hot?”

“I was just trying to tempt you out of the library.”

Natalie chewed, watching Amelia leave the room, throwing on dark denim on the bottom, a long-sleeved black boat neck on the top. No accessories needed.

She picked up a coffee on the way to the library. An iced long black with just a slash of soy milk. Some guy tried to spark conversation while she waited for the barista to hurry up. She ignored him. Categorically uninterested in discussing a random museum on the outskirts of Oxford, famous for organising its artefacts by themes.

The library felt hollow with only a handful of students to admire its dome ceiling while they worked. The handful of people she figured were as deranged as she was.

The handful stared at her when her phone pinged as though she’d committed a cardinal sin.

It was Dom.

Hugo wouldn’t stop banging on about your eyes this morning.

She smiled as she read that suffering comes from desiring things she couldn’t control. Her smile didn’t fade as she wondered whether a life safe from disappointment was also a life deprived of thrill.

She couldn’t really concentrate on the Stoics. It was a problem, but at least she was in the library. No one could say she’d done nothing that day.

Two minutes. That’s how long she gave herself on her phone.

With those precious 120 seconds, she tapped onto Instagram and searched his name. More mutuals than she’d expected. The Bristol crew she knew through the London scene.

Follow.

Then back to the Stoics.

Until a follow request came through from him.

She accepted.

Waiting for a message.

But nothing.

A passage on the danger of attaching to a certain outcome.

Her phone lit. Only Amelia. Her leg jigged a little faster.

An article on the difference between preference and requirement.

She reminded herself he was apparently dangerous. Whatever that meant. Didn’t work anyway. The checking was now compulsive.

A critique that reducing desire minimises passion.

Some woman with a lanyard around her neck sounded a bell to push the handful out. The bell was a welcome distraction from her blank lock screen.

She closed the 16 open tabs on her laptop, left with an immaculately organised desktop. Leaving the library, she tapped Amelia’s name.

Two rings.

“Natalie! Please tell me you’ve left the library?”

The library door closed behind her.

“I’ve left the library.”

“Thank God. I was about to come drag you out of there. The vibes at Dom’s were so weird – I needed you there.”

“Weird how?”

“This guy Dom hooked up with last night was hanging around. Made scrambled eggs which tasted so eggy. Dom was too hungover to debrief with me. Oh, and Hugo was getting back on it.”

Natalie stopped, gripping the railing outside the library.

“Did Hugo say anything?”

“About you?”

Natalie didn’t answer.

“Honestly, he wasn’t making a whole load of sense,” Amelia continued.

“Bullshit.” Natalie pushed off the railing and kept walking. “He was fucked last night and made perfect sense.”

“Fine. He said in passing that people needed to stop asking him about you. Maybe he was embarrassed he pursued you so hard?”

Natalie stopped again.

“Yet he stumbled at the final hurdle.”

“He’s probably exhausted given how many you made him jump over yesterday,” Amelia said. “Anyway, he’s in Oxford for the next few days.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

She forced an exhale.

Then she felt her phone vibrate.

CHAPTER 4

Can you relate?

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A random blonde girl leaned in to kiss Hugo at the bar inside. The same girl who had been following him all day at the festival.

As he turned his face away from her, he looked right at Natalie. Then smiled.

“We’re doing afters at mine in Cowley,” someone at the table said. “This pub is dead.”

Natalie pulled her legs onto the chair, hugging them tight against her chest, watching through the pub window.

The random blonde tried again. She struck Natalie as the kind of girl who would sleep in tomorrow. Forgive herself for the mistakes of the night. Maybe even take the day off studying.

“Go ahead,” Dom said to the guy pitching afters. “We’re having one more drink and will meet you there.”

Hugo strode into the garden, the random girl behind.

“You’re in the advanced party,” Amelia said to him.

He pointed at Natalie. “You coming?”

She shook her head.

“Suit yourself,” he said and she died a bit inside.

Half the table followed him onto the street.

“You’re better off without him in your bed tonight,” Dom said.

Natalie shrugged.

She listened to trivial conversation. About drugs and cigarettes and other things she didn’t let herself care about. Because if she started, she knew she wouldn’t stop.

She listened until metal scraped the ground beside her. A chair pulled up to the table. A boy in a backwards cap sat down, staring at her like he was entitled to do just that.

“Those bloody eyes,” Hugo said.

She let him peer into her.

“You made yourself an enemy,” he said. “She’s not happy.”

“You shouldn’t have come running back.”

“You have my shades.”

Without shifting her gaze from him, she reached into her bag. Licking her thumb, she rubbed smudged mascara off the lens of his sunglasses. A mark of her stuff on his. As though she hadn’t just met him at a festival. Like he wasn’t just Dom’s school friend.

She placed his sunglasses on the table.

“You can go now,” Natalie said.

“The shades aren’t the only thing I want.”

“I don’t care what you want.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t go after it.”

She looked away.

Then his fingers were on her chin, guiding her face back towards his.

Hatred. That’s what she felt towards herself that she couldn’t unlock their eyes.

“What about the random blonde?” she said.

“What?” He looked genuinely baffled. “No, Natalie, don’t worry about her.”

“I don’t like upsetting other girls.”

“That was nothing.”

“It’s just a real shame.”

“What is?”

“That you were with her,” she said. “Because now I can’t kiss you.”

“You can still kiss me, Natalie.”

“You can still dream.”

“Fuck.”

They sat listening to sirens for a few moments.

Slowly, he brought his elbows to his knees, his mouth level with her bare legs. He edged towards her until there was an inch between them. Reaching his hand out, he took his rave shades from the table and hid his eyes from her.

Then he leaned back.

“Natalie, let’s go,” Dom said from behind her.

Apparently, everyone else had left the table.

“You know I don’t do afters,” she said over her shoulder, ordering an Uber.

She was holding her phone and then she wasn’t.

It excited her. Seeing something of hers in his hand. Something she’d held to her ear and whispered into.

“Don’t scowl at me with those eyes,” he said, wincing. “Why don’t you do afters?”

“They’re boring as hell.”

“Then you’re going to the wrong afters.”

“The better the afters the more boring I find it.”

“How can that be?”

She grazed her top teeth over her bottom lip.

“Because I’m not chasing the same thing as you.”

“What are you chasing?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

He frowned. She wondered how in God’s name she found it cute. The God she didn’t think existed.

The phone chimed to say her taxi had arrived.

“You fucking ordered it.”

“You going to walk me to my cab?”

He took off his cap. Ruffled his light brown hair. Then put the cap back on.

“Yeah.”

They left the pub and the hairs on her arms raised. She’d been outside anyway, but something about the street felt more exposed.

“Wait here,” he said outside an off-licence store. “I need to grab a light.”

“No.”

He double took, then hesitated, Natalie crossed the road.

She could tell from his footsteps he was jogging after her. Again.

“Come here, you,” he shouted as she reached the taxi.

She turned to find he’d finally removed those stupid rave shades.

They stood there on the dimly lit street. Her arms crossed. His on his hips.

“Give me a hug,” he said.

She didn’t move, so he stepped towards her. Taking her hands, he pulled her in.

The warmth of his body felt nice against her cheek. His chest was solid. Stronger than she’d anticipated.

He brought his forehead to hers. Hovered for a moment. Then leant in for a kiss.

She jerked back.

“Seriously?” he said.

“You’re seriously asking me if I’m serious?”

“I’m deadly serious.”

She hadn’t pictured him as serious. When Dom told her he’d been arrested in three different countries. Often didn’t bother sleeping. And never dated.

“You’re seriously not going to kiss me?” he said.

“I don’t kiss guys who don’t take me out.”

“Wouldn’t you like that, Natalie.”

He took one step back.

Before he could take another, she got in the taxi and slammed the door.

A total lie. That she didn’t kiss guys who didn’t take her out.

Still.

There was something about his audacity.

It had drawn her in.

Now, he needed to text her.

CHAPTER 3

Will he text?

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The bartender gave Natalie a horrified look. She shrugged. Hugo wasn’t her problem. She’d already had three vodkas.

Still squatting on the bar, he turned to Natalie, eyebrows drawn tightly together. “You know what you want?”

“Vodka tonic.”

His thin lips curled and heat pooled in her chest. She pinched her thigh. Hard. To stop it spreading.

“One vodka tonic,” Hugo said, finally jumping down. “And one rum and coke. Both doubles.”

Natalie scowled.

“What now?” he said.

“Rum and coke isn’t on the menu.”

“Neither is vodka tonic.”

“So you’re diminishing my chances of getting the drink I want.”

“Diminishing? That’s a fancy word.” Hugo inhaled sharply. “Guess we are at a festival in Oxford.”

“Not sure I’d call a gathering at a pub down the river a festival.”

“I was being generous.” He adjusted his backwards cap. “Festival was how it was sold to me.”

“Does the Bristol boy regret coming?”

“Not for a second,” he said, staring at her so intensely she looked away.

The bartender placed two plastic cups on the counter and Hugo pulled his phone from his shorts.

“Fuck,” he shouted, tapping his phone to the card machine, holding an arm out to silence Natalie. Though she wasn’t talking. The phone chimed.

“Good use of my last 1%,” he said.

She grabbed her drink and walked away from the bar.

“Wait, Natalie,” Hugo said, coming after her.

Jogging.

She let a smile pass before turning. “What?”

He shook his head. “Natalie, Natalie, Natalie.”

Her name sounded different in his mouth, with the October sun burning orange as it set on the river behind him.

“It took me two hours to persuade you to have a drink with me,” he continued. “Don’t you dare walk away from me like that.”

This time she matched the intensity of his stare.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to a wooden table.

She glanced around at groups of people clustered on the burnt ground. Probably discussing different versions of the same pointless thing.

“I’ll sit only because I don’t know where my friends are,” she said.

“I’ll get you back to your friends when we’re done.” He nodded towards the table. “We’re here with the same people, anyway.”

Swinging her legs over the bench, her fists clenched at the dirt smeared across her black boots. She downed half her drink, then looked up at him.

Leaning across the table, he slowly brought his hand to her black oval sunglasses, pulling them from her nose.

He moved his face closer to hers.

“I need to see those eyes,” he said.

She swallowed, then slid his rave shades off him, slipping them into her black handbag. “You don’t get to see my eyes if I can’t see yours.”

His were brown, slightly bloodshot. Pupils wide and restless, though he didn’t have trouble keeping eye contact.

“Your eyes are pretty,” he said. “Mine aren’t.”

“Pretty?”

“What’s wrong with pretty?”

“It’s a bit bland.”

“Jesus Christ.” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t actually think I’ve called anyone pretty before.”

“You said my eyes were pretty. You didn’t say I was pretty.”

He was squinting again. Like the detail wasn’t fine enough.

“But you are pretty.”

Her lips pressed firmly together.

“That naïve little vision will be shattered soon enough,” she said. “Trust me.”

His head tilted. “What do you study here?”

“Is that your usual chat up line?”

“What makes you think I’m trying to chat you up?”

She scoffed, gaze falling to the table.

“Natalie,” he said and she gripped the bench. “Give me back those blue eyes.”

Her chin stayed dipped, face stern, as she peered back up at him.

“Philosophy and Theology,” she said.

“Do you believe in God?”

“No.”

“That’s good,” he said. “I don’t think I’m making it into heaven.”

“I don’t think you’re making it anywhere close.”

His mouth fell open, stare still fixed intently on her. Unwavering.

“So, you’re properly clever then?” he said.

“Clever is subjective.”

“Why can’t you just take a compliment?”

“Is it a compliment to be clever?”

“What else would it be?”

“A bit of an inconvenience.”

She tipped back the remainder of her drink, tapping the empty cup against the wooden surface. Probably only one more drink from forgetting about the dirt on her shoes. Or the five-mile run she’d force herself into the next morning.

“I’m going to dance,” she said, placing her sunglasses back on the bridge of her small nose and wandering off before he could react.

Ten paces and there was no sign of him behind her.

Fuck.

Twenty.

Double fuck.

Then his hands were on her hips and her body felt so hot it was cold. He pulled her against him, her back on his chest.

“For a second time,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

She spun to face him.

“Surely it’s clear by now I don’t take instructions from you?”

He ran a hand through her tangled dark-brown hair and leant in to kiss her.

When his lips were an inch from hers, she forced a laugh.

He drew back.

Something unguarded crossed his face as the hypnotic beat of house music pounded through the balmy air.

“Cute,” she said, before heading deeper into the crowd to find her friends. Though she hoped her friends weren’t there.

She waded through sweaty bodies that appeared mid-transcendental experience. Lost in the carefully curated illusion of spontaneity. An escape from normal that made normal more sustainable. Or at least it was meant to, Natalie thought to herself.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Amelia shouted, her breath sticky in Natalie’s ear. “You disappeared with Dom’s hot friend from Bristol.”

Natalie said nothing.

“Hugo’s mental. Stay away from him,” Amelia continued.

Dom winked at Natalie. “Amelia’s right, Hugo’s bad news,” he said. “But you like bad news.”

“Dom!” Amelia hissed. “Don’t encourage her.”

She scanned faces around her. He was absent. Glaringly absent.

She’d fucked it.

Taken things one step too far.

Yet again.

CHAPTER 2

Should Natalie have just kissed him?

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