Ten: Colin

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Carfax Tower was square, built from stone, and always looked a little lopsided to me. It rose up from the corner of Cornmarket – a pedestrianized street with a lot of shops – and the High Street.

Because it was July, the sky was still light, and the tower cast a pale gray shadow, under which stood Colin. I was glad I caught sight of him from down the street, because my breath caught for a moment. He wore casual jeans and a shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. It suited him. Those warm brown eyes of his were fixed on his cellphone.

I composed myself as I threaded through the crowd of foot traffic and made my way to his side. “Hi,” I said. “Hope I’m not late.”

He glanced up and his expression brightened with recognition. “Hello. Nope, not at all.” He slipped his phone into his pocket. We set off, weaving through the crowds. That’s the thing about downtown Oxford, it’s always crawling with tourists and locals doing their shopping. It was hard to have a conversation while we walked, but it wasn’t far. The chippy was down a little, narrow alley off the High Street. The only problem was that it was closed. Our progress was brought up short by a heavy wooden door.

“Blimey, I’ve never seen them closed.” Colin glanced at his watch. “Um, right, sooo, there’s a nice sandwich shop over on Broad Street that we could try? I mean, I’m not sure what you’d like.”

“That sounds fine, yeah,” I agreed.

We cut across to the sandwich shop and I paused to look at the nearest college, which was across Broad Street from us and a little further down. It had a square tower over its front gate, complete with parapet at the top. Otherwise, the front of the college was flat sandstone. Narrow windows were spaced in vertical columns and each column was topped by a triangular gable that jutted up through the roofline. The building was old, though I didn’t know enough about architecture to say what era it was from. “Is that Balliol?” I asked.

“I think so.” Colin shrugged. “I don’t know all the names of the colleges. Not from here originally.”

It was in the right place to be Balliol.

“Why,” asked Colin. “You want to go see it?”

“I’ll see if I can get in some other time. My aunt was just telling me about it. It’s where she met her husband and I’m trying to do a portrait for her.”

“Oh, right. Well, the trick is to wave at the porters on your way in and act like you’re a student.”

We went into the sandwich shop and I paid for my meal. I couldn’t tell if that was normal or if I’d breached the etiquette, or if Colin read anything in to my decision to pay. It was hard not to obsess over the details.

The shop, as it turned out, was about to close, so we got our food to go.

“Great,” said Colin. “First I tell you that I’m taking you to a kebab van, then to a chippy, and then I take you to a place that’s about to close.”

It was then that I noticed he was nervous. He did his best to act casual, but I recognized the darting gaze and self conscious posture.

That made it easier for me to relax. “My fault for saying no to the pub. I know nothing about pubs. I just assumed... I’ve barely ever been in a bar.”

“You’re joking.”

I shook my head. “Just when you have to walk through one to get into a restaurant-”

“You’ve never just spent time there, talking to people?”

“No.”

“None of your friends drink?”

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