"You... knit?"

I'm sat on the sofa in Niamh's living room. I have no Earthly idea where she or Dan are. When she said she needed me here two weeks before the wedding, I assumed I would be wrapped up lots of Made of Honour duties, but so far I've not had to do much at all. 

It doesn't seem like Ollie is particularly bogged down with tasks either, given that he's stood on the bottom step watching me. 

"Yes. I knit." I say indignantly, not letting his voice interrupt my knitting flow. "What else is a celibate woman supposed to do?" 

Ollie's eyebrows shoot up. I mean, like, way up. "You're celibate?" 

I knit faster. "I don't know if it's by choice or a lack of interest from other men, but I haven't slept with anyone since Paddy." 

Unless you count that extremely awkward encounter with my flatmates work colleague over a year ago, which was a non-starter and incredibly embarrassing. If you want a sure fire way to emasculate a man you've just met, then promptly burst into tears just as he thrusts himself inside of you. That'll certainly do it. 

And I'm not about to tell Ollie any of that. 

"I don't think it'll be because of a lack of interest." Ollie grumbles, coming to sit by me on the sofa. 

I snort, "How would you know?" 

His eyes are latched onto me. "Trust me." 

I don't acknowledge him, carry on knitting as though his very existence isn't a threat to the protective solitude I've been keeping for the last few years. After my relationship with Paddy broke down I told myself I wouldn't let a man get that close to me again. 

What's the story about Icarus and the sun? Wouldn't Icarus be an idiot if he didn't learn his lesson? I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't sat here all evening wondering if I should entangle myself with Ollie. I'm firmly sat in the belief it is a terrible idea. 

Ollie folds his arms to his chest, still watching me. Sotly, he says, "You don't have to do that, you know?" 

"Do what?"

"Close yourself off from me." 

I pause my knitting. Would it sound to cliche too tell him that it's not him. It's me. I'm broken. I can't be loved and I don't want to be. 

He puts a hand on my lap, "It won't kill you to let someone in." 

If I have to live through a Paddy 2.0 again, it will kill me. It's odd, because there's a part of me that trusts Ollie, but I also have to acknowledge that there was a bigger part of me that unequivalently trusted Paddy, and look where that got me. 

"You know I don't fake like you, right?"

Oh. 

Oh no.

I can't have this conversation now. It's too much. I want to trust him, I want to believe he likes me, I want to believe we don't have to pretend date if we are actually dating, but we barely know each other - we've just met. 

Most of all, I want to protect myself from the inevitable heartache that is heading my way. Men like Ollie don't like little Irish girls like me. Men like Paddy aren't satisfied by little Irish girls like me. I'm not enough to keep them, even if it's all I really want to do. 

"It doesn't matter." I mutter.

"Of course it matters." 

"It doesn't. I had a problem, you were kind enough to offer me a solution, but it's going to end terribly. How can a relationship that started out as lie do anything but end terribly?"

"I'm confused." Ollie says, "I thought we were acknowledging that we enjoy each other's company?"

I nod, "We do. I do. I really like being around you. I really like you." 

"So, what's the problem?" 

I throw my knitting needles away from me and get to my feet, pacing around the coffee table. "We started as a lie, we lied to my family. We're going to lie to your family! Say we did work out, say you were the man of my dreams and we lasted forever, we'd have to keep up the lie for the rest of our lives."

Ollie is carefully watching me, thinking about his words. "If we did last forever no one would care how we met in ten years time."

I throw my hands up, "Of course they would! We were Best Man and Maid of Honour for our best friends wedding! We made our story into something from Hollywood. Everyone will remember!" 

"Okay," Ollie says, "So, we come clean."

"I wouldn't even have the words to explain it!"

"What is it you want me to say here?" His voice is laced with annoyce and worry. "That we tell everyone we've broken up right now? Do you want to plan a date for a fake break-up? Or is that you like me and it terrifies you to like me because Paddy taught you that liking someone doesn't mean they won't behave like an absolute dog?"

He's got me there. His eyes are tracking my every move, his breath moves in sync with mine and I want him. I want him to badly. Sat there with his ankle resting on his knee, his right arm stretched across the back of the sofa. I have never known a man to be so attractive. His skin, his eyes, the way he talks, the way he walks - he's perfect.

It's also in the way he looks at me, the way his touches seem to run right through me. I want him and I'm terrified to have him. If this becomes real, then it's something to lose. It's tangent. It's painful. If it stays fake, then I can tell myself it was never meant to be. I can tell myself it's an unattainable fantasy. 

Ollie stands, and strides so he's a few steps away from me, "Since that kiss-"

I cut him off. "The way I see it, we're never going to figure this thing out and it's not going to end well. We can either, A. keep talking about it, keep trying to figure it out. Or B. Save ourselves the pain and end it now." 

Ollie says nothing, he just raises his hand and rests it against my cheek. My body betrays me and my face leans into him, a spark of electric flashes between us. 

Then I pull myself back. "What is it?" 

He still says nothing, stares down at me, both our chests heaving. 

"Option A? Or option B?"

The air is still, silent, and yet so thick between us. It takes up all the space in the room but also feels like it's being sucked from my lungs and out a window. I can barely breathe. 

My voice is more forceful, "Option-"

"Shut up," Ollie growls, cutting me off and pulling my body to his. "And fucking kiss me." 

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