Shawmila Imagines

List

Me: Oh my god! You're home?

Shawn: Certainly am. Want to meet up soon?

Me: Yes, I'd love to. It's been too long. As soon as you've recovered from your jet lag you have to come round. I'm living in Holloway now and working in a gorgeous little cafe, Te Quiero, you'll love it!

Shawn : I've heard. I miss you Mila, it's been over a year.

Me: I know, I miss you too. I'm so sorry that I never came to your leaving – things were messy back then. When can you visit? Wednesday?

Shawn: Might have to help out at the restaurant, I'm skint, but I'll let you know.

Me: Amazing, can't wait! XX

Shawn: Me neither. X

•••

I walk to the bus stop with a spring in my step. I've missed Shawn so much, the way he makes me laugh, his surprising shyness if I ever succeed in making him blush, the midnight feasts that we'd make after a night out. I've been kicking myself for sacrificing our friendship, all for my ex's ego. I can finally see how futile it was. Nothing I did or didn't do would have made him have faith in me. And Shawn is the only guy that I've ever had a real, uncomplicated friendship with. Well, mostly uncomplicated.

I've got the next day off and spend the morning pottering around in Camden Market. In my mind, I plan what meal I'll pick out for Shawn when he comes to the café, deciding that halloumi with chorizo, apricot and a green bean salad will be the perfect combination. I try to see Te Quiero through his eyes. How will he see me now I'm finally realising my ambition to run my own restaurant?

After finding a 1930s mirror, a cashmere throw and a box of wine glasses for the flat, I cart my new purchases back on the bus. When I get to the door of my building there's a tall, tanned man holding a massive bunch of sunflowers at my door. It's Shawn, grinning at me widely.

"House warming present," he says as I carelessly drop my bags at my feet and wrap my arms around him.

"Oh my god, thank you. How did you know where I lived? You look so well? These are so beautiful," I cry, ecstatic and flustered and utterly surprised.

"I went to your café and you weren't there, so I called Lauren and she gave me your address."

By this point we're climbing the stairs to my flat. I'm juggling the flowers and all of my bags. Shawn looks awkward, as though he doesn't know what to do with his hands.

I show him into my studio and feel suddenly self-conscious.

"I've only just moved in, there's a lot of work to do on it yet," I say, apologetically.

"It's great, Mila," he says. He's not looking at the room at all but staring at me, really staring.

"You're gorgeous." I say.

Not "You look well." Or "How are you?"

All I can come up with is the truth. He's tanned, toned and bigger than I remember him being, he seems to fill the whole flat, towering above me.