It's Thursday again, and I'm in my favourite place. I open my eyes and I'm here, on the first house atop the hill. Eric's at the kitchen counter, and when he looks me in the eyes, he comes over, and kisses me softly.

"You, my darling," he says in between kisses, "are in for a treat. Get ready." I lick my lips, tasting something sweet, and look at him quizzically.

"Ah - no questions," he knows me too well, "you will soon see, my love." He's excited and mischievous, and at times like this  I forget about what's beyond the little red door; what people would think about us.

I can picture us right here, forever. Young, and running off on surprise adventures. Old, and listening to old Prince and watching all the sunsets. But I look at him, looking at me as he laces his sneakers, with a big, goofy grin on his face, and I am satisfied with right now.

I let out a little yawn as I get up, and slink up behind him.

"But Eric..." My voice is low and I sound just a little whiny, and I know I'm not playing fair when I wrap my arms around his middle but I can't help it. "Where are we going?" I nip at the back of his neck. I feel the sound from deep in his stomach when he chuckles and says,

"My eager Evie." He starts to hum The Most Beautiful Girl again, and I have to smile as I put on my sweater.

When this first started, when we first started, we never left house. I couldn't face the thought of marching past my house or Barbara's house and having to explain hey guys, so I'm in love with my English TA...

So we stayed in — not that I minded.  It meant we did things like bake cookies while we watched reruns of The Great British Bake Off, and lay upside down on the couch deciding what we'd spend the money on if we won the lottery, and ... other things. Until one afternoon, he turned to me.

—"Do you want to do something?"

— "...Like yoga?"

—"Evie, I meant outside. As in go somewhere."

—"Oh. Oh! Really? A-are you sure?"

—"Evie, I wanna be with you. And do all the things people who want to be together do! Go out for dinner, go to concerts, go wine-tasting, I don't... fucking know, why are you looking at me like that?"

—"Let's go."

And just like that, we started. At first, we'd sneak out of the back of his house and drive for a good hour to a diner nobody knew, or a flower garden after hours. And our little world was all our own. I asked him if he'd ever get a fifth tattoo, and we drove to a parlour - he got a hand bell tatted in between his fingers. He asked me who my favourite old singer was, and we took a tram downtown to a vinyl store so we could start a collection.

Now, adventures and surprises and mini-trips like this were normal. When old ladies at mini-market counters told us we made a properly beautiful pair, I could smile, and Eric could wrap his arms around me, and we could say thank you.

"Open your eyes, Evie." We were driving for only about 10 minutes, if that, and now we've walked maybe half a mile with his hands over my eyes and his voice in my ear, watch your step, Evie.  When his hands drop from my eyes, they fall to my hips and we're outside the conservatory garden.

"Eric..." I say in awe, "oh my goodness." We've talked about this place before, but I've haven't outright asked. It's for real rich folk, like Eric's family, and I've never wanted to find out if he's ashamed of me or put us in jeopardy, so I've never asked. But now, we're here.

"Eric, what if we run into someone?" My heart drops a little, but I have to offer. "Should I say I'm a colleague?"

"Of course not, Evie," he says, and I can see in his eyes that he means it, "I will say you're my beautiful girlfriend and we'll tell them to bugger off if they have any more questions." He nuzzles his nose against mine, lowering his voice towards the end of his sentence. I laugh and breathe out, free of fear, and ready to enjoy my afternoon with him. I see a wicker basket in his hand, and he grins at me without elaborating, so I lace my hand with his free one as we head inside, towards a front desk. The grumpy-looking brunette behind it is sat in front of a glass wall, and I can see the garden - it's sprinkled with flowers of every colour. I'm in awe.

"Eric Macklin." Eric says, quietly, as he hands her his membership card. He looks down once he does, and I know he feels bad for his name. I don't bring it up to him, but I've searched his name before - his family are the British billionaires, who spend their free time at theaters and on tennis courts and getting into places like this just by stating their name. He's always been too humble for his name. I lift his hand up and kiss his knuckle gently, hey, look at me. I love you. He smiles back. The lady clears her throat and suddenly, her smile is much wider. She's swiped his card; seen his name.

"Enjoy your time, Mr. Macklin." Her eyes dart to me for a moment, but her unwavering smile stays focused on him as she holds the card out in the palm of her hand. His lips are taut, but he's kind and he nods,

"Yes, thank you. Darling, would you get that for me?" He picks up our picnic basket again and lifts our intertwined hands into her eye line with the other hand. There are only a few pet names he tolerates for me, and darling isn't one of them, but I love him for not giving her the pleasure of my name. I smile, innocently,

"Thanks." Her smile drops slightly, like I don't deserve it, but I couldn't care less. If anything, I'm a little cocky. He's with me, and I'm with him.

****************************************

I'm wearing a little floral number that Cara got me for my 18th, and though it doesn't compare to all the Vivienne Westwood I've seen since we sat down, I feel happy; confident. Eric's laying across the picnic mat playing DJ. He's changed the song 4 times in past 3 minutes. The 5th time I throw a grape at his forehead.

"Oi, I'm trying to match the mood, my love." He opens his mouth again, looking at me expectantly. This time I throw the grape in and kiss him on the nose. He'll never admit it, but he loves being coddled like this.

"Mm," he hums in approval, finally landing on Love Really Hurts Without You.

"Billy Ocean," I laugh, "you're so old." His eyes snap open in mock disbelief,

"Well I guess I'll just change it then..." I slap his hand - he knows I love this song. I love that I can touch him teasingly when we're somewhere where nobody knows us; blow dandelion fluff off of his eyelash or faff with his hair when there's a wild lock. Elsewhere the taint of accusation and suspicion and caution makes everything dirty, and I hate that, even though, sometimes, there's nothing clean about what we do... My cheeks are red again.

"Where are you?" The song is over, and something new by Jorja is playing; it made the perfect background music for my momentary racy daydream and I think he's caught me. I'm great at hiding some things, not so good with others.

"I'm right here." I smile back, but he raises an eyebrow as he sits up,

"Really? Your cheeks are heating up, my love," his voice is close, too close for him not to know what he's doing to me, "it must just be the sun..." His voice is barely above a whisper now.

"It must be..." I say, and our lips are practically touching, but the fact that they're not makes my heart race, and I wonder where this will go now, when we're out here amongst the flowers, but his warm hand is resting on my thigh and-

"Eric?" The voice comes from in front of us, and it's familiar but forgotten all at once. Lea.

Eric's head drops before he meets her eyes, and mine can't meet her, so stay stuck on her attire. She's in a black and white uniform, and she's holding a tray of cucumber water.

"Lea... hi. Uh, how are you?" I can't bring myself to say anything at all, and I want to lean into Eric, to feel safe, or sink into the ground, but this doesn't quite feel like the right time.

"Ah, fabulous, thanks." She pauses, and I know she's looking at me. "That you, little Angie?" When she called me that back then, it made me feel cared for, but now that it's dripping with disdain and condescension, it hurts, and I have no choice but to look up,

"Hi, Lea." Her smile is so saccharine that it looks like she's in pain, and she's gripping to the tray with such force that I'm worried she'll spill the drinks all over us. "Y-you look well." Why did I say that? She does, she looks beautiful, her hair's still golden and her skin still looks like porcelain, but it wasn't the right thing to say.

"Aw, thanks, Angie," she says my name again, and it stings, "not as good as you." She nods towards my hand on Eric's thigh, and it almost breaks me. The irony seems too much and it makes me feel like traitor: she left Eric suspecting he had feelings for that student of his, even though we were only friends then, and now she's found us here, cosy and cuddled up on a picnic blanket, whilst she serves cucumber water up and down the conservatory.

"Heh," the sound comes out shaky, but it's true to how I feel, and I think Eric senses it,

"Are you still in Aldwych?" He asks, and instantly her expression becomes bitter,

"No. Somewhere further out. Smaller." Her cold eyes dart to me, like the lady at front desk, but I don't feel confident now, I feel little.

And as much as I know she loved Eric, she loved his name more, and now I feel guilty for taking away her chance at being Mrs. Eric Macklin and sitting in my place, rather than opposite me with a tray in hand.

I hear Eric take a breath, ready to try and make something of her curt response, but she speaks before he can,

"Fantastic to see you, Eric... fucking fantastic." She marches off as best she can with her tray, and as my head turns to follow her, I can feel Eric's caring eyes on me.

"Evie, I'm sorry, my love, I-"

"Eric, don't even think of apologising," I turn to face him, and take face in my hand, running a soft thumb over his cheek, "are you okay? Do you want to go?" He looks off into the distance before he answers,

"No... no, we're not going anywhere." His eyes meet mine again, and he opens the wicker basket, "we are going try my pie." I know he always puts kindness and others first, but I need to know, really know, if he's alright.

"Eric..." I say, placing a hand over his, to stop him. There's something behind his eyes, and I'm not sure what it is, but I'll take his word if he gives it to me.

"Evie... I'll be fine. I promise. A bit of bitter Lea won't ruin the," he looks down at his watch, "37 minutes we have left. Now, try my pie." His smile gets goofy again as he lifts a loaded fork to my mouth and I think everything's going to be alright until I look over his head and catch eyes with a boy from my Econ class - Scott - sat at a table inside.

Through the glass, we catch eyes, and for a second that feels like an hour, my heart sinks into my stomach. He looks at Eric, at our picnic and back at me. He chews on his lip for a moment before he nods at me and turns back to his family. In that second that felt like an hour I'm reminded of the importance of the 'secret' part of our precious secret. My smile is sad but there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

****************************************

We're back in Aldwych - Eric's home, and so am I, technically. I call upstairs,

"Mum, I'm meeting the girls at Babe's for a minute. I'll be back in like 30."

"Alright, love!"

As I trudge down the hill to Barbara's house,  with my hands tightly in my jacket pockets and my hood up, I remind myself of how I felt on the car ride home with Eric. Today's close calls were too close; our secret felt like it was going to implode, and so I decided in favour of honesty. I have to tell Cara and Barbara - I have to. They're like my sisters - I have to. I have to be honest with at least someone - I have to. I've repeated the mantra for so long, I'm outside Barbara's. I only get one knock in before Cara opens the door with a sassy smile.

"This better be good, babe, SOS texts aren't a joke."

My teeth are chattering. It's not that cold. "Where's Babe?"

"I'm here, I'm here." Her voices comes down the hall as she slides on her socks. "Come in for fuck's sake. What's up?"

Both Cara and Barbara start towards the living room, but they stop when they don't hear my footsteps behind them.

"Angie?"

"Guys, I have to tell you about something. Or, someone."