Paper Hearts

NOW

My breath hitches in my throat. For a moment I am frozen, mute - I can hardly bear to turn. What if I'm imagining it? Maybe he's not really here at all. Maybe the drink has gone to my head. Maybe, maybe, maybe...not.

"You planning on looking at me any time soon, Ede?"

That's what does it. The way he says my name - no-one else ever called me that.

 I turn to face him; his hands are still on my waist, but he lets go when our eyes meet. He hasn't changed at all. It's been six years since I last saw him and he hasn't changed at all. His eyes still look like melted chocolate, twinkling like they always did when he looked at me. He's staring at me too.

"You haven't aged a day" he tells me, smiling, and I smile tremulously with him.

"Neither have you" my voice is barely above a whisper, shocked almost into nonexistence, and he can't hear me over the music. 

"I think you need a drink" he says at last, and holds out his hand. I take it. 

We walk past Emma on the way to the bar and her jaw drops, her eyes round with surprise. I try to smile at her but find that I am shaking and have to close my eyes for a moment, letting Ollie lead me. Strange how I still trust him, after all this time. After everything that happened.

I open my eyes, blinking rapidly, when we halt at the bar. Ollie turns to me, a slight smile on his lips.

"What do you drink? You weren't legal last time I saw you"

Great, Ollie. Make me feel even more freaked out by reminding me how long it's been.

"Sex on the Beach" I reply, voice shaking as much as my hands, "Please. Thank you"

My reply makes him look at me again, his eyes scanning my body, and I notice that his eyes are sparkling with mirth. He's remembering something - the day in the summer when we actually did have sex on the beach. Oh, the irony.

"That wasn't an invitation" my voice comes out sharper than I intended, and he quickly looks away, cheeks flushing. But when he pushes the cocktail into my hand he starts looking at me again, looking me with eyes that look as though they'd devour me if they could. 

I'm wearing a short, blue-sequinned dress that throws off tiny beams of light whenever I move - Emma picked it - my hair is a lot longer than he probably remembers, and the silver heels I'm wearing probably a lot higher than anything he ever saw me wear before. But it's not my outfit he's looking at - he's looking at my boobs, pushed up by the dress, and at my bare legs. 

"Not an invitation" I repeat, and before he can reply I down the drink in one. He does the same with his.

"I can't believe how little you've changed" he says at last, "It all feels like only yesterday"

"I wish it was only yesterday" I reply, wistfully, and he looks like he wishes it was too.

"Do you...do you want to go back to mine?" he hesitates, "Not - not for - we just need to talk. It's been a long time"

I nod, "Yeah, it has. There's a lot to say"

He looks relieved that I agree, then eyes my outfit again, "You'll be cold"

"I'll be okay"

He holds out his hand for mine again and I take it without a moment's doubt. 

Because, of course, no matter how long it's been, I never really did let go of his hand.