“Babe?” asked Aston, shocking me out of my thoughts. Was I ok with this being date? I couldn’t deny it anymore…
“It’s a date then,” I replied, smiling slightly.
“Excellent!” said Aston, a massive look of relief on his face.
Of course I couldn’t let this slide, “Wow you looked nervous,” I laughed, poking fun at him.
“Hey!” he laughed, “You scared me for a second there. Thought I was going to end up looking like a massive fool!”
“Nahh… could never let you look like a fool Merrygold,” I said with a wink, “I got your back.”
“Good,” he said, just as our desserts were placed in front of us.
I thought that calling this what it was, a date, would make me relax a bit, but instead it made me even more nervous. How was I supposed to act now? Could I really let my feelings for this boy out? What were my feelings for this boy? The thoughts just kept spinning in my head.
“Babe, eat your cake,” laughed Aston from across the table, half of his already gone. “You look like you just ate dirt or something.”
I just frowned at him before picking up my fork and digging in to my cake.
“Seriously though, are you ok with this?” he asked, pressing on.
“Yeah, just a bit nervous,” I said truthfully. “I mean, we do have some history…”
“Hey, let’s just forget about all of that. We’re here now, enjoying our cake and about to go dancing. Live in the moment!”
“Ok,” I said, a smile playing across my face. I finished up my cake and then the rest of my wine. When the bill came I had my usual scuffle with Aston over who would pay. He won in the end, but I vowed to get him back later in the evening. After we finished up we walked out into the warm LA air, wandering down near the beach to a bar I knew to start off our night. Figured we could get a few drinks in before heading off to the clubs.
As we walked down towards the bar I could feel that silly tension between Aston and I again. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but I was so conscious of his presence. So nervous around him.
We weren’t even a block down the road when I felt Aston’s fingers graze my own. At first it seemed like an accident, but as we got a bit further I felt it again. And then a third time. And a fourth.
“Oh my god, you child,” I laughed, grabbing his hand and linking my fingers with his own. “Just do it!”
He just smiled at me sheepishly before linking his fingers with mine too. “Didn’t know if that was ok…” he mumbled.
“Just say something then!” I replied. “Really, I’ll be honest if it goes to far. Trust me.”
“Oh I know you will be,” he said, giggling now. “You always speak your mind.”
“There you go,” I said.
We walked in silence for a few blocks, our fingers linked together. It actually made me really happy, like I was back in that comfortable place I’d been in years ago, I hadn't been back since. I was almost relieved.
When we arrived at the building we were headed to I took Aston up to the rooftop bar where we got some tropical drinks and sat down in the outdoor area, watching couples walk past on their nights out on the beach below. It was a perfect night outside, warm enough that we didn’t need sleeves and the sky was perfectly clear. You couldn’t see stars here in LA, but the moon shone bright over the water, creating a beautiful refection on the waves.
“Do you like living here in LA?” asked Aston sitting down next to me having gotten a second round of drinks. I was snapped out of my trance, admiring the view, by his question.
“ Yes and no,” I said. “I like the weather and the beach and how laid back it is. But I don’t like the pressure of having to be someone you’re not.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“This city is full of people trying to be something. Trying to be famous or whatever. It can be really draining, because you don’t know who is sincere and who isn’t. It’s hard to fit in because everyone is expecting you to be just like that, someone aiming higher. Sometimes its hard to be yourself. I didn’t find that in London.”
“Do you miss London?”
“Yeah…” I said, slightly wistfully. “I mean obviously the weather is shit, but I loved the grit of the city. How hard people work. Obviously miss my friends and family.”
“Would you ever think about moving back?” he asked me, his hand trailing up and down my arm, and then along my fingers as he asked.
“Depends,” I said, honestly.
“On what?”
“Work. There are more opportunities for what I do here in the US. If I can get a job here, I’ll probably stay.”
“Course,” he said. I could hear an almost sadness on his voice.
