‘Thank you, I’ll revert to you shortly,’ I said, terminating the call, but not before I heard him chuckle.
I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the appointment, and found myself trying to wrap it up prematurely. But then, I didn’t want to appear over-keen by calling him back too quickly, so when the translator said my client would like to show me around the new office space, a few floors above, I gratefully accepted.
Over dinner, a week later, I had to explain to Adam why it had taken me three hours to call him back.
‘You honestly expect me to believe that?’ he asked incredulously.
‘I swear to you. I’m not one for holding out just to appear cool. Making you sweat for an hour, perhaps. But three? That’s just rude.’ I laughed.
His eyes wrinkled up as he tried to suppress a smile. ‘And you were seriously stuck in a lift for all that time?’
‘Yes, for three really long hours, with a man who hardly spoke English, and two super-smart phones, neither of which were smart enough to be able to ring for help, it seems.’
He choked on his Sauvignon Blanc and spluttered, ‘That’s Chinese technology for you.’
By the time I introduced Adam to Seb, a month later, we’d seen each other eighteen times.
‘Are you serious?’ Seb had moaned, when I’d told him for the third consecutive night that I couldn’t see him. ‘When do you think you might be able to fit me in?’
‘Ah, don’t go getting all jealous,’ I’d teased. ‘Maybe tomorrow night?’
‘If he doesn’t ask to see you again then, I suppose?’
‘I promise, tomorrow night is yours and yours alone.’ Though, even as I was saying it, I felt a tad resentful.
‘Okay, what do you want to do?’ he asked, sulkily. ‘That film’s out – of the book that we both loved.’
‘The Fault in Our Stars?’ I said, without thinking. ‘Adam and I are going to see that tonight.’
‘Oh.’ I could feel his disappointment, and I instantly wanted to slap myself.
‘But that’s okay,’ I said cheerily. ‘I’ll go again tomorrow night. The book was amazing, so the film will be too, right? We’ve got to see it together.’
‘If you’re sure . . .’ Seb said, his voice lifting. ‘Try not to enjoy it too much with your boyfriend.’
Chance would have been a fine thing. I was too conscious of Adam fidgeting in his seat, looking at his phone. ‘Well, that was a happy little tale,’ he said, as we came out of the cinema a couple of hours later.
‘It’s all right for you,’ I said, sniffing and surreptitiously wiping my nose on a tissue. ‘I’ve got to go through it all again tomorrow.’
He stopped in the street and turned to look at me. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because I’ve promised Seb I’ll go and see it with him.’
Adam raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘We both loved the book and always vowed that when they made the film, we’d see it together.’
‘But you’ve seen it now,’ he said. ‘Job done.’
‘I know, but it’s something we both wanted to do.’
‘I need to meet this Seb who’s taking you away from me,’ he said, pulling me in towards him and breathing in my hair.
‘If he was straight, you’d have a problem on your hands,’ I said, laughing. ‘But you’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘All the same. Let’s get together one night next week, so that we can all discuss the merits and flaws of the silly film we’ve just seen.’
I playfully punched him on the arm, and he kissed me on the head. It felt like we’d been together forever, yet the excitement of just being around him fizzed through me, setting every nerve alight. I didn’t ever want that feeling to go away.
It was way too early to tell, but there was a growing part of me, the part that no one saw, that hoped this was something. I wasn’t brave enough, or stupid enough perhaps, to be singing from the rooftops that Adam was ‘the one’, but I liked how it felt. It felt different, and I had all my fingers and toes crossed that my hunch was right.
We were comfortable with each other, not to the point where I’d leave the bathroom door open, but I wasn’t obsessing about whether my nail colour matched my lip shade either, and not many guys had been around long enough to see them clashing.
‘Are you sure it’s not too early for the Seb-o-meter?’ Seb asked, wiping his eyes as we walked out of the same cinema twenty-four hours later. ‘I mean, it’s not even been a month yet, has it?’
‘Well, thanks for your vote of confidence,’ I said. I was snivelling again too, but as I was with Seb, it didn’t matter. I put my arm through his, uniting us in our sadness at how the film had ended.
‘I don’t mean to sound negative, but it’s all a bit full-on to last, don’t you think? You’re seeing him almost every night. Are you sure it won’t just fizzle out as quickly as it started? Don’t forget, I know what you’re like.’
I smiled, despite feeling a little hurt at the insinuation that what Adam and I had could be just a fling. ‘I’ve never felt like this, Seb. I need you to meet him because I think this might be going somewhere. And it’s important to me that you like him.’
‘But you know you’re going to get a very honest appraisal,’ he went on. ‘Are you ready for that?’
‘I think you’re going to like him,’ I said. ‘And if you don’t, just pretend you do.’
He laughed. ‘Is there any topic that’s off-limits? Like the time you asked me to marry you, or when you threw your knickers at Take That?’
I laughed. ‘No, it’s all good. You can say whatever you want. There’s nothing I wouldn’t want him to know.’
‘Hang on,’ said Seb, as he bent forward and made a retching sound. ‘There. That’s better. Where were we?’
‘D’you know that you’re a right royal pain in the arse when you want to be?’ I laughed.
‘You wouldn’t want me any other way.’
‘Seriously, he’s pretty laid-back, so I don’t think you’ll be able to faze him that easily.’
That was the only thing with Adam: if he was any more laid-back he’d be horizontal. In his world, everything is calm and under control, like a sea without waves. He doesn’t get exasperated when we’re stuck behind a painfully slow driver. He doesn’t call Southeastern trains every name under the sun when leaves on the track cause delays, and he doesn’t blame social media for everything that is wrong with the world. ‘If you don’t like what it represents, why do you go on it?’ he’d asked, when I moaned about old school friends posting every burp, fart and word their child offered.
None of the trivial stuff that had me spitting tacks almost every minute of my day seemed to touch him. Maybe he was sitting back, carefully navigating his way around my own waves and currents before revealing his own, but I wanted him to give me more. I needed to know that blood coursed through his veins and that he’d bleed if he cut himself.