Jamie
So, yeah. I'm drunk.
And I'm chatting away to Scott as if I've known him my entire life, not less than a day. He's great. He's attractive, he's funny, he's sweet. He's fucking awesome.
And he's a drummer. With black hair, tattoos and piercings. He reminds me of him. Too much. But the bad thing is, I kinda like that. And the more I'm drinking, the more I'm able to sort of warp his Scottish accent into an American accent in my mind. I can pretend the ring through his eyebrow is actually through his bottom lip. I can pretend he plays in a band called The Middle, not a band called The Dire Bends (seriously?). I can pretend Scott isn't Scott. I can pretend I'm talking to the one boy I really wanna be talking to tonight. And it's nice. It's kinda comforting.
It's almost 3 o clock in the morning, we moved on from the bar to some club that Lori and her friends like. Scott and his friends didn't seem too keen on this place, but they came. And okay, okay, I know I'm leading him on. But I can't help it. He talked about his drumming, and we had a natural connection after that. I told him I play guitar, and he even looked up The Middle on Spotify and got his boss to play us through the speakers when we were in BrewDog. I loved that. A lot of people came up to me after that, very interested in my music. It was totally cool. And naturally, Scott had a lot of questions about the drummer. So (after many gins and a few beers) I told him a little about Patrick.
Well, I thought it was a little. Turns out it was a lot. I'm dancing to some horrendous pop song (Calvin Harris I think) in this club with Scott. His hands are on my waist and he's smiling down at me. But I think he knows. I've talked about Patrick so much. He must know. It must be obvious, right?
"Dude, I'm in love with Patrick!" I blurt out of no where over the music. Damn you, gin.
The shitty dance song carries on playing (How deep is your love? Oooh aaaah! Oooh aaaah!) and Scott doesn't miss a beat. He twirls me around and whispers "I know." into my ear, before smiling at me kindly.
"It's so obvious, isn't it?" I ask him, sighing in defeat. I don't wanna dance anymore. I move over to the side of the dancefloor and he follows me.
"It's not that obvious. But we have talked a lot tonight, and most things you tell me go back to him."
I sigh again and pout at Scott's words. How will I ever get over Patrick!? How!?
"And your face does that every time you say his name." Scott adds with a kind laugh. "Listen, Jamie. I don't bullshit. I talked to you in the bar earlier because I liked what I saw and you seem cool. But I don't want to step on anyone's toes..."
"Me and Patrick aren't a couple, never have been." I add in quickly.
"Oh?" His eyebrows go up in interest. "Well, maybe you'd like some help then?"
"I don't need your help with anything, dude. Unless it's getting over my best friend." I sigh again.
"That's exactly the kind of help I'm offering." He says in his slow, Scottish tongue. It's sexy. I like it. He pulls me towards him where he's standing with his back up against the wall. It's dark and smoky in here. We could make out, no one would even notice. He brings his lips down to meet mine while pulling my body into him.
And I push against his chest lightly. I don't want to do this. And that's the bottom line.
"I'm sorry, Scott. I can't." I whisper, as he awkwardly tries to laugh off my rejection.
"Don't worry about it." He shrugs his shoulders like it's no big deal. "But tell me something, aye?"
"Aye?" Oops, that just came out. I really am drunk.
"How the hell could Patrick pass up on an opportunity to be with a girl like you?" He shakes his head and looks at me in disbelief. I feel awkward, and I don't know how to respond to this, so I just shrug my shoulders evasively.
"He doesn't know how you feel, does he?" Scott accuses, and I frown.
"Yes, he does!" I go all defensive immediately.
"Okay, only asking." Scott looks around the crowded dancefloor. "You want to dance again? Just as friends?"
"I shouldn't, I should find Lori." I say. Dancing with him would be harmless. Hell, kissing him would be harmless. But, I just don't want to.
"Okay, c'mon. Let's go find her."
And with that, Scott and I start doing laps around the night club until we find Lori making out with some random ginger boy. I don't wanna disturb her, but I'm worried that she may end up going home with this guy. I don't know how Helen feels about stuff like that, but Lori is older than me. She's hot, she's single. Maybe this happens?
And yeah, it does. She breaks away from the guy long enough to let me know that she's going back to his flat with him. She offers to get me safely into a taxi back to Helen's house, but Scott insists he can help. I assure Lori that this is fine. Scott's a good guy. I know I'll be okay with him.
After we've left the club, we're standing on a cobbled street in Edinburgh's Grass Market, waiting for my taxi. And Scott is a perfect gentleman. He waits, he talks to me about music, he smiles and laughs. He doesn't care that I rejected him at all. What a decent guy. He even notices that I'm cold when I start shivering, and he pulls off his hoodie and drapes it over my shoulders. It's a black hoodie. No label, thank god.
"It was great meeting you. Have a safe flight tomorrow." Scott says as my taxi pulls up alongside the curb.
"Thanks for everything Scott. It was great meeting you too." I say as I open the cab door.
"I'll look you up on Facebook." He says with a smile. "And you better believe I'll be telling all my friends about your music. You guys are fucking amazing."
I give him one last smile, and his parting words to me are: "You can't fake that kind of chemistry. Tell Patrick how you feel. How you really feel. Take care, Jamie."
And I'm in the cab. Scott closes the door and waves as the driver takes off towards Helen's. I wave back at him through the window. He really has been great. But his advice just now? It's almost like he knows I haven't told Patrick that I'm in love with him. Am I really that transparent? Guess I am.
I can't tell Patrick though. Not after the way we left things. Not after everything that happened in the boat house... And besides, he's with Amanda. I can't. I'll just have to live through my heart break. It'll get easier. I'll move on in time. I know I will.
I lay my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. Damn, I am drunk. I need to sleep.
And I do. The next thing I know I'm being rudely awakened by the cab driver. I pay him then dart out of the car and into Helen's (Lori gave me her key). I go to the spare room, and it's only now that I realise I'm still wearing Scott's hoodie.
I don't like this.
I clumsily grab my headphones from the carry on backpack I took on the plane with me. I shove them into my phone and drunkenly search for Hoodie by Hey Violet on one of my favourite Spotify playlists. I love this song, but I've been avoiding it lately. It's sprang to mind more than once over the past few weeks, and I have almost listened to it. Almost. But I didn't. Guess I am now.
"You'd probably think I was psychotic, if you knew. What I still got in my closet, it's sad but true. I slip it on over my shoulders. Something I'll never get over. It makes me feel a little bit closer to you."
I blink a few times as I lay back on the bed with my headphones in. I'm still fully clothed, minus Scott's hoodie. I pulled it off and tossed it onto the bedroom floor as soon as I pressed play on this song.
"I can't keep your love, I can't keep your kiss. Gave you everything and all I got was this."
I get up off of the bed and stumble over to my open suitcase. I rummage through it until I locate what I'm looking for. I can't believe I even packed this. But I did. I'm glad I did. I put it on immediately.
"I'm still rockin your hoodie, and chewing on the strings. It makes me think about you so I wear it when I sleep."
I get into bed. I don't usually wear this when I sleep, but fuck it. I wear it all the time through the day though. It's my favourite item of clothing, and it isn't even technically mine.
"Still rockin your hoodie baby, even though it hurts."
I tug on the sleeves of Patrick's hoodie as I listen to the rest of the song. I fucking love this hoodie, always have. He's not getting it back. Never.
Before I drift off to sleep, I decide I need to give that guy Scott his hoodie back before I leave tomorrow. I'm not keeping it, hell no. I'll go back to BrewDog tomorrow and drop it off for him, or I'll ask Lori to return it later. Whatever. I don't want his hoodie. There's only one boys hoodie I have ever officially stolen, and that's not about to change now.
***
"Ah, Jamie. Maybe you know where my daughter is?" Helen greets me with just a hint of annoyance as I descend the stairs the next morning.
"Um, morning." I say awkwardly, just as Lori bursts through the front door. Her hairs a mess, her make up is smudged, and she's carrying the heels she had on last night. Walk of shame much?
"Lori Buchan! Where the hell have you been!?" Helen demands immediately, and Lori grins at me sheepishly.
"His name is Owen, and he's amazing." Lori says dreamily as she moves past me into the dining room. Helen and I both follow her for further details.
"I'm seeing him again today. He wants to go for lunch! Can you believe it? He wants to take me for lunch today!" Lori looks positively love struck. I'm suddenly glad I didn't confide any of my disastrous love life details in her.
"What the hell are you on!?" Helen says, hands on hips, frowning. "You go home with some random boy and suddenly you're head over heels!?"
"Aye, because he's different mum. He's different!"
Helen's expression softens. I feel like this isn't the first time she's heard all of this.
"I'll be heading into town in a few hours." Lori concludes.
"Why did you even bother coming home then?" Helen snaps at her, and I stifle a giggle. She has a point.
"I need to shower and change, duh!" Lori exclaims, before getting to her feet again.
"And what about Jamie?" Helen demands. Lori looks at me with pleading eyes. She doesn't want me ruining her lunch date with Owen, I get that.
"I'll tag along." I say, while tossing Lori some serious eye contact to let her know that I won't. "If that's cool?"
"Um, aye... Of course!" Lori says, and she sounds disappointed. I don't think she gets it. I'll explain later. "I'm gonna go shower now." And she's gone.
"Honestly, Jamie. I don't know what to do with that girl sometimes." Helen says with a sigh. "She's been in love more times than I can count."
"Maybe this is the time that will stick." I offer with a smile. "Owen sounds great."
Helen and I both laugh. We know fucking nothing about Owen. But, hey. Lori needs to figure this shit out for herself.
"So, have you enjoyed yourself? You're leaving later today. It's been so quick!" Helen says, sitting down next to me at the kitchen table.
"I know. Next time I take a seven hour flight, I am definitely staying longer than four days!"
"What made you decide to finally travel over here, anyway?" Helen asks me curiously. "I'm happy to have you here anytime, you know I am. But it was quite out of the blue. Your dad had an idea..."
Oh he did, did he?
"What did he say when you talked to him?" I ask.
"He thought you wanted to get away. From someone." Helen answers cryptically. Wow, my dad knows me so well. I don't answer her, I just look down at the table. And I'm still wearing Patrick's hoodie. Awkward.
"Well, whatever the reason, I hope your time away has helped. Put things into perspective, maybe?" Helen offers kindly. I smile at her and nod my head.
It hasn't helped at all. If anything, being here has only made me miss Patrick. Long for him, even. Not helpful. But, whatever. At least I've gotten some space.
Once we're both ready, Lori and I head into town again. I assure her that I'm not gonna crash her date with Owen, I have something I need to do. She barely even asks for details, she's just relieved that her weird little American cousin isn't gonna be third-wheeling her date. So when I say goodbye to Lori, I make my way over to the BrewDog bar. I'm returning Scott's hoodie.
He isn't working today, though. Which is good. There was no need for me to talk to him again. So I leave the hoodie with the bar tender and tell him to thank Scott for me again. I also leave him with a vital piece of information about me: my surname. That way, he can 'friend' me on Facebook. All good.
After I leave the bar I have time to kill and it's a nice day, so I grab a coffee from Starbucks and settle myself on a bench in Princes Street Gardens. It's a nice enough day, bitterly cold, but that seems to be the norm over here. I sip my coffee and people watch, willing my crazy brain to stay focused on the here and now. There's no need to think about anything else. I'm here, I'm content, I have coffee. Nothing else matters.
Except the fact that I'm flying home to North Bridge later tonight. I'm excited about it, but at the same time I'm dreading it. I can't wait to see Benji, and I can't wait to slide back into the life I'm accustomed to. Not that I haven't enjoyed Scotland, but things are just so different over here. I miss American accents, and American TV, and American food. I miss my dog, and my guitars, and Symposium coffee, and my friends...
One friend in particular. He's the reason I'm looking forward to going home, and the reason I'm dreading it. He's the reason my heart does somersaults in my chest every time I think about touching down on American soil. He's the reason I feel sick at the prospect of getting into Jay's car later tonight and heading for my house. He's the reason I'm heartbroken.
But he's also my best friend. My best friend, Patrick.
God, these past four days haven't helped things at all. I'm in love with him, I miss him, and I wanna see him again. But I can't feel that way. It's not okay. He's with Amanda, and that's that. I need to leave him be. I need to stop thinking about him. I need to try, really try. Starting now.
Well, maybe not now. But as soon as I get home.
When Lori finally decides to tear herself away from Owen, she gives me a call and we meet up. We head back to the house together and have dinner with Helen and Steve, and then I'm packing.
I say my goodbyes to my family, and we each promise that we won't leave it so long before seeing each other again. I point out that I didn't get to see Robert this trip, so we'll definitely need to arrange something soon! It's slightly emotional (on Helen's part at least, she sobs the whole drive over to the airport) and then I'm on my own again. I'm through security, sitting in 'Costa' coffee shop, sipping a hot chocolate (I wanna sleep on the plane) waiting for my flight.
Edinburgh, it's been a pleasure. But home is where my heart is. I wish it weren't, but it is. In more ways than one. I'm coming home.