The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch

CHAPTER 31

I’ve been ambushed.

‘Paige! Over here!’ I see Noah waving at me. He is sitting at a table with a bunch of other people. They all give off the same vibe. They don’t look the same, but they do carry themselves in the same kinda way, and have complementary, if not exactly matching, outfits.

When Noah had asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink, this is not what I was expecting. I had been contemplating sharing my woes, but I definitely can’t do that here. Not with all these people.

He stands up and comes over to me. When he reaches me, he gives me a quick kiss, then puts his hand on my elbow, pivoting my body away slightly so I am blocked from view. I get the feeling that he is doing this to give us, specifically me, some privacy.

‘Hey. Are you OK?’

I look at him, at his slightly salt and pepper hair and his kind eyes. It sounds silly to say it, but there is so much hope in his eyes. So much happiness written all over his face. I don’t want to be the reason for his face to lose all its happiness and instead turn to fear and pity. I can’t tell him about the lump. Even if we get the chance to be alone.

So instead, I decide to smile, and for one afternoon, be the girl I wish I could be. The girl that can make friends easily. The girl who his friends approve of. The girl that can defy the odds and become a new member of an old friendship group.

‘I’m good, I just wasn’t expecting other people.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were going to be here, but then I kinda thought that you’d have to meet them one day. Might as well be today.’

I take a peek at them around his body. They don’t look unfriendly. ‘OK.’

I should’ve run.

I also should have known that all his friends would be cute, and quirky, and interesting and intelligent. I’m a beat behind on every joke, and don’t even think about trying to contribute any of my own. I am too tired.

My mother once told me that if you find the person next to you really interesting, it means that you are the boring one in the conversation. I have never felt this more than I do now, and I hate her a little bit more than I already do for putting this thought into my brain.

The only saving grace is Noah’s hand. It has been somewhere on me reassuringly since we sat down – actually, since he came over to greet me. It has been on my shoulder, in my hand, or, as it is right now, just above my knee.

I put my hand on top of his and interlace our fingers, savouring this touch.

He takes a break from his conversation and brings my hand up towards his mouth, giving it a quick kiss, before putting it back down and kissing me, again, on the side of my head.

It’s not a typically romantic place to be kissed, but to me, right now, it suggests something more than just romance. It’s a secret kiss. It’s a kiss that is more than a kiss. It is a promise, a promise that says, ‘Even though we are at this table, surrounded by other people, really it’s just the two of us. It will always be just the two of us.’

My world shrinks. Somehow – maybe because I am sitting close enough to him that my body is pressed against his – I can feel his body working next to mine. I can feel his heat and his breathing. I can feel his voice. I commit every feeling to memory, feeling bizarrely thankful that we are with friends. If it had been just the two of us, I don’t know if I would have been able to stay silent.

‘You were quiet this afternoon.’ Noah and I are walking down the street towards his flat. Or at least, that’s where he thinks we’re going. What he doesn’t yet know is that he is going to his flat, but I will veer off towards the tube and disappear. Fade away. I have done it many times before, so I can do it again. ‘My friends can be a bit loud, but they all liked you. I got the nod from Toby.’ Toby was sitting a couple of seats away from me, but he seemed like the ringleader. I can imagine him being the one that dictates the social calendar.

‘I think they liked that I bake cakes.’ In the pub I had nodded, but also tried to dodge the promise of bringing cake scraps to the next meet-up. I don’t like promising anything when I know I won’t be able to deliver.

‘Cakes are a very important part of a doctor’s day. The sugar helps us manage our workload and improves our bedside manner.’

But as much as Noah might believe otherwise, I don’t think I did get the seal of approval. Maybe he couldn’t see it in their eyes, but I could. I could see the questions. I could see the marks against me. Why is he going out with her? Why did he bring her along? She doesn’t fit in. She has wonky, imperfect, scarred boobs. She is too quiet. She wasn’t quick enough to quip. She didn’t buy a round of drinks.

We’re about to approach the fork in the road where I need to change direction, away from Noah.

I slow down and pull him back.

‘Hey, so I know this is a bit of a change of plan, but I’m actually going to head for home.’

I see the moment the light dies a bit in his eyes.

‘I knew something was off.’

I hate being this person that is inconvenient and moody and constantly in need of careful handling. I hate it. The only way to ensure that I don’t feel like this is to be alone. I don’t feel like this person when I am alone.

‘Nothing is off.’ Lies, lies, lies. The sooner I can stop lying, the better. ‘I’ve just had a really long week and I’m really tired and I forgot to bring any of my overnight stuff with me.’ On their own, none of these excuses are worthy. Even if you add them together, I’m standing on dodgy ground.

‘I could come to yours. Or we could pick stuff up for you?’

The more he tries to make this work, the more it hurts. The harder it gets.

The only other reasoning I have left is somewhere I don’t want to go. ‘Honestly, I just need to be alone.’ More lies, lies, lies. ‘I think your friends used up the last of my energy reserves.’ This isn’t a lie, but being with Noah doesn’t take energy. He gives me energy, and even if I were falling asleep as I walked, I would want to be with him. My eyes start to water.

‘Are you crying?’

‘Yes.’ But, ‘No, not crying crying. It is the wind. Cold wind makes my eyes water sometimes.’

He wipes the tear away.