Always, in December(44)
“That’s definitely not true,” Liam said, his eyes on a runner, tightly clad in Lycra. There were always bloody joggers around here—it was enough to make you feel guilty for just sitting. This particular one was a tall, slim woman, and Max’s lips twitched. Liam had a weakness for tall, willowy women.
“Feels like it, given the last few weeks. Anyway, how would you know? You’ve never even been to England.”
“I don’t have to have been there to read a weather report.”
“Read them regularly, do you? Weekly check-up on the weather in London?”
“It’s a hobby of mine.”
“Is it on your profile on those multiple dating apps you have? Because that’s probably why you’re striking out there, mate.” Liam only grinned at him. Impossible to rile, was Liam.
Max’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he slipped it out. There were a few messages and two missed calls from his mum, but the most recent message was from Erin, telling him she was just boarding the plane and couldn’t wait to see him. He stared at it for a moment, then, unable to think of anything better, typed back: Safe flight xx
After deciding it was safer just to ignore his mum for now, then go in strong with apology and flattery when he got home, he lowered his phone. It lit up immediately again and he looked at it automatically. As did Liam—a reflex, Max supposed. Because it was face up, they both saw the WhatsApp pop up at the top of the screen. Just a line of x’s.
“Erin’s getting on the plane,” Max said by way of explanation. Though Liam wasn’t one to invade his personal life—one of the many great things about him—this subject had come up a few times, by virtue of working so closely together every day.
Liam nodded slowly. He had a good scalp, Liam. Something that was a bit odd to notice, but it was sort of impossible not to notice, given he’d shaved his dark hair neatly around his head—a style that matched his carefully shaven jaw—a bit of stubble allowed around just his jawline and top lip. It looked like far too much effort, in Max’s opinion. “Ah yes,” he said, “the Edinburgh ex. Worried things will be awkward, after she dumped your ass last time around?”
Max tapped his fingers against his phone. “I like to think of it more as a mutual decision. And we’re both past that—we’re just friends now, I’ve told you that.”
“Suuuure.” The way Liam dragged out the word made him sound even more American, and Max snorted. “So what, she’s flying all the way out here to visit, right before you go back to the UK, I might add, because you’re such good friends?”
“You know, you’re trying to make that sound suspicious, but it’s really not. Just because you don’t have any friends who would travel a few hours to spend time with you in an objectively cool city, doesn’t mean the rest of us live like that.”
“Nah, I’m just more picky than the average guy about their friends—try to avoid any hangers-on, you know.”
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.” Even though, from what Max had seen, Liam made friends left, right, and center. Probably because he was so easygoing, Max thought. He didn’t pry, and it seemed to make people want to be around him. It was that very quality, Max was sure, that had stopped Liam from asking him what he was doing back here for another prolonged period of time, having been off to his fancy new London job last time they spoke.
Max slipped his phone back in his pocket and frowned to himself. The thing was, in reality, what Liam said held some truth. Yes, he and Erin were friends. They’d been friends at Edinburgh together way before anything had happened, only actually hooking up in their final year. Thus ensued a classic on-again, off-again relationship that would have made Ross and Rachel proud, spanning about five years until last spring, when she’d called it off again. And now, he was pretty sure she wanted to reverse that decision, given some of the messages he’d been getting. The problem was, it was a different face that flashed into his mind now, one that had been the cause of a fair number of pleasant dreams and not so pleasant awakenings over the last few months.
Max glanced at his watch—some kind of up-and-coming new brand that Liam had told him about—and, without saying anything, they both got to their feet. Hour-long lunchbreaks were frowned upon at their office. Not that Max was complaining. He wanted to be busy, to get stuck into the work he loved again. He’d spent too much time over the last few months either obsessing over the past or worrying about his future, all because of that one fucking day last year—the day that had quite literally made his world tilt on its axis.
No. He closed his eyes very briefly. He wasn’t thinking about it. That was the new rule. That was the only way he was going to get through these months—just pretend that it hadn’t happened. Distraction—that was the way forward.
They walked back toward the office on West Broadway, dodging a near-endless stream of people, with the grey sky looming ominously above them. Next to him, Liam lumbered along in that way of his that always made Max want to smile—for someone who played as many sports as Liam did, his gait was almost laughably ungraceful, like he was somehow both trying to show off and hide his somewhat built six-foot-three figure, and had compromised with something that did neither. Without so much as a glance at each other, they swung into the Starbucks on the last corner before their office. It was a given that they’d need caffeine to get through the post-lunch meeting, given the way these clients drawled on, and the coffee at their office, despite the fancy building, was truly shite.