At around two o’clock I decide it’s time for some food. Sitting down in The Buttery with my soup and sandwich, I stare about at the boisterous students surrounding me. A bunch of guys are eating their lunch while wearing brightly coloured ’70s attire, obviously something to do with Freshers’ Week.
Just as I’m bringing my attention back to my food, I hear a stream of laughter erupting from the group who’ve approached the table directly across from me. I’ve got my sandwich halfway to my mouth when I glance up and see Robert standing there, his dark eyes levelled on me as he puts down his tray and takes a seat. I’m struck by how weird it is to see him in student mode. I’ve gotten so used to seeing him as a businessman, most days wearing smart designer suits.
Now he’s got on black jeans, boots, and a stone-grey T-shirt.
He looks beautiful. Exquisite. Or maybe it’s just because I haven’t laid eyes on him in so long that I’m drinking him in like I’m dying of thirst.
Feeling awkward and not wanting to just ignore him and look away like we’re strangers (because, let’s face it, that would be ridiculous), I give him a stupid wave and then continue eating my sandwich. He says something to his friends before weaving past the tables to approach me.
I frown at him, feeling like he’s cheating just by being here. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Living in a different country is the only way I can manage to maintain my distance from him.
“Hi,” he says, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet.
“Hey,” I answer quietly, chewing on a bite of sandwich.
“Big surprise, huh?”
“What?”
“I mean, me being here. I bet you didn’t expect it.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Actually, I knew. My mum told me. Plus, I saw you outside Liz’s yesterday morning.”
“Ah.” He grins, the sides of his mouth curling attractively. “So that’s why you’ve been so difficult to pin down.”
Deciding not to tell him I stayed home yesterday in the hopes of avoiding him, I answer, “I’m a research student. I don’t go to lectures — most of my time is spent in the library.”
I momentarily cringe at having revealed that. Now he knows exactly where to find me.
“Right,” he says with a grin, rubbing a hand along his stubble.
“So, what are you studying?” I ask to break the tension.
“Film studies. It’s the closest thing they had to photography.” He smiles sheepishly. “I’m a mature student undergrad.”
“Couldn’t you have studied that in London? I bet they have way better courses there, too.”
“I could have,” he agrees. “Only one problem with that, though.”
“Which is…”
“You’re not in London, Lana.”
“Oh.”
His smile widens as he whispers back huskily. “Yeah, ‘oh.’”
“Well,” I say, dusting my hands, “I’d better be getting back to the library.”
“You’re not even half finished with your food.”
Frazzled, I stare down at my tray, realising he’s right. I slump back in my seat and take a gulp of water.
“I’m not here to make you feel uncomfortable, baby,” he says, leaning both hands on the table and bending down to meet my eyes. His endearment makes me catch my breath. “I’m here to do what I said I’d do. I’m going to prove to you I can be the kind of man you need.”
“Robert, you shouldn’t do that,” I whisper, turning away from him.
“I’m doing it, Lana. Hey, why don’t you come and eat with me and my friends? You look lonely sitting here all by yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I say as I glance over at the two women and one man he’d come in with. “I’m glad you’ve made friends, though.”
He laughs. “Yeah, we kind of had no other choice. We’re the only mature students on our course. So it was either band together or hang out with a bunch of irritating eighteen-year-olds.”
Just as he says this, one of the guys in the ’70s gear jumps up from his table and starts doing John Travolta dance moves.
“See what I mean?”
I giggle, unable to help myself. “You should go and eat before your food gets cold.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, eyes consuming me. “I guess I should. See you around, little red.”
And with that he returns to his table. I manage to avoid him for the rest of the day. When I get home that evening, Mum and Liz are in the kitchen having a cup of tea and a chat. I slump down into a chair beside them, exhausted. I never realised how much energy you need to expend in the activity of avoidance.
“Do you want a cup of tea, hon?” Mum asks.
“I’d love one.”
Liz is looking at me funny. She’s got this big smile on her face and a pleased glint in her eye.
“Liz, stop staring at me. You’re giving me the creeps,” I tell her, too exhausted to censor myself.
Mum fills my cup and pours in the milk. “Lana, don’t talk to Liz like that.”
I laugh tiredly. “What? It’s true. She’s smiling at me like I just told her I’m buying her a brand-new house.”
“I’m in a good mood today,” says Liz. “What of it?”
She winks at me when Mum’s not looking.
“There you are. Liz is just happy today, Lana. No need to be rude,” says Mum, picking up some plates and bringing them to the sink to be washed. When she starts running the tap, Liz leans in and squeezes my hand. “Robert’s here, you know. He’s studying at Trinity, the same as you.”
“Yeah, I know. I bumped into him today,” I tell her.
Her eyes get all big and inquisitive. “Oh. And how did that go?”
“Fine.” I narrow my gaze. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Liz?”
“No, no, of course not,” she answers, pursing her lips and trying not to smile.
“Liz.”
“What?”
“Robert’s been telling you stuff, hasn’t he?”
“He might have.”
I let out a long sigh. “So you know about us?”
She squeezes my hand and wiggles in her seat excitedly. “Yes. And just so you know, I’ve got my fingers crossed that you take him back. He’s really turned over a new leaf, and I didn’t think it was possible, but my boy is head over heels in love with you.”