Chapter Twenty Three

R O U T I N E

Thursday, July 23rd

"So do you fancy going out for some drinks tonight?" I ask Dylan whilst sat on his sofa again, where we've both been since I came over to his straight from work.

Because I don't feel like I have anywhere else to go. Abbie and Dave still acting weird around me, though they have no idea I'm privy to their little estate agent visits. The laptop we've taken to sharing because mines utterly useless revealing a history full of mortgage advisory searches.

So I've been waiting, avoiding the flat most nights to spend time at again Dylan's or Ruby's. Alternating between the two because I'm too much of a coward to call them out on it. To be told I need to pack my bags and start looking for somewhere else to live.

It has been an odd couple of weeks. Avoiding certain truths, and people like the plague because I'm not at all cut out to deal with any hard doses of reality.

It's why I've only seen Jack once since his return. On the way down the stairs when I told him I've been too busy to take up his offer of meeting up, to talk. Faked an apology that sounded pathetic.

Feeling like crap after at the way his happy expression faded, how he made a u-turn straight for the smoking area though I'd heard Millie whispering to Annabel that he'd been trying to give up, and that they're going for drinks soon.

How I can't even bring myself to engage in any talks because I have no idea how to explain just what I've been up to in the weeks he's been gone. And because I'm fuming a little that Millie's wormed her way back in during my completely at fault avoidance.

Though talking is really the last thing I want to be doing right now but drinking certainly isn't. Bottles of cheap wine on sale at the local off license on my way over all too tempting. Though Dylan doesn't seem keen. An up hill battle to get him to do much of anything lately.

Our days spent wrapped in sheets, steamy showers now few and far between. There's been no rush to continue such fun spontaneous pursuits. And I'm not sure if it's me or him. Or both. Maybe he's got boredom creeping through his veins too.

Domestic bliss it isn't.

"Can we give it a miss for tonight? Long day with Felicity on a shoot, kinda wanna just hang here," he replies quietly. "Got some food in if you wanna stay?"

I feign a yawn, not because I'm tired but because I am feeling the boredom of routine setting in. It's been like this for the past few days. Any recommendations to go out falling on deaf ears. Dylan more than happy to stay in, chill out. Watch TV or a movie, one beer with dinner. Perhaps a quick fumble if either of us are lucky before falling asleep with a big gap left between.

I'm starting to feel like I'm out staying my welcome all over again.

"Okay."

"Next week though? That speakeasy club you've been talking about? Maybe once my workloads calmed down for me we can go? I know Felicity and Robbie are keen," he offers switching TV channels, feet propped up on the coffee table. His eyes look tired.

"Sure," I reply. Not liking the way two names have been added into an invite meant only for us.

And I'm being difficult. I know this but my legs are itching to get out, and not stay snuggled up on the sofa again for the third night in a row. Which can be nice and all when the weathers shit or moneys running low but that isn't the case right now.

As we watch some program about over sixties buying second homes abroad, and the pain of finding the perfect villa woe is them, I bring up the subject that's hung over us for most of the week. A looming situation that I don't think Dylan's given much thought too or is avoiding.

"Heard anymore about your sponsorship?"

He shrugs, runs a hand through his hair. Bottle of lite beer in the other. "Not really. I dunno what's going on. They haven't said much. Felicity's been looking into it for me."

"Oh, well I mean they've got to let you know soon haven't they?"

"Maybe I'll just stay as a tourist, or illegally. I don't know," he jokes, though I can sense he doesn't find either prospect particularly funny.

"I'm sure there's lots of options, if it comes to it."

Dylan sighs. "Well not really. Unless you include the option of a green card..."

I swallow hard, try to laugh. He looks at me and smiles. I know he's not at all serious but it must show all over my face that the mere mention of committing to anything or anyone right now is enough to make me panic. He resumes channel hopping and we say no more.

Both of us not yet ready to have such a conversation. Questions about the nature of our relationship not spoken about, or discussed. I tend to take the moral stance of it is what it is. Which is two people with a lot in common, but sometimes not enough, from culturally difference backgrounds who enjoy getting naked together when they can be arsed and who hang out a lot because there's a current lack of better options.

And there's a lot of things I've been discovering over the weeks too, spending more time in his company that make me take a step back to analyse if I've really thought it all through properly. If rushing head first has been in hindsight an error.

Which could be the by-line to the story of my damn life. Rushing. Consistently falling prey to delirious infatuation at the drop of a great smile and solid jawline. Coasting along with the hype of someone new and different that never quite lives up to expectations.

And I do feel guilty. And angry at myself. I know that Dylan's not having a great time either. Because he's missing home. A lot. Talking about his family. The differences in people and this place that he's still trying to figure out, wrap his head around.

He can also be much too quiet. Maybe that's because he doesn't trust me enough to lay bare all his feelings about being in a city that's not living up to his expectations either.

And though I'm trying to be rational about it, though it's not usually in my nature to be, I've found that he's been quite vocal, intentionally or not about his working relationship with Felicity. His Ruby as he'd once refereed to her as. Though I have my sneaking suspicions that one or both might prefer it to be less of a friendship, maybe something more.

Still I can't get mad or angry or feel jealous. Not really. Especially not when I think about Jack more than it's healthy too. And sometimes when sitting on the same sofa get's too much I wonder if it would even be a bad thing if Felicity was making her advances. Or if Dylan has reciprocated at all.

"You okay?" he asks not turning his head though his hand falls to my knee.

"Yeah just been a long day too."

He twists his attention away from the television finally. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I mean I know it's not exactly that exciting here. I'm just so beat at the moment, with work."

I feel guilty. Like he's been reading my mind this whole time.

"It's not that and I know you are," I lie effortlessly. "I'm just not sure how much more I can watch these smug, debt free bastards swanning about villas and complaining about how the ceilings are plastered not quite to their liking. It's just nauseating."

I am if nothing else the master of deflection.

"Ah sorry," he laughs switching the channel again before handing over the remote. "Your choice from now on."

My choice would be to race down to the nearest open pub or rooftop bar and get out. Find some atmosphere. Some buzz. Make the ground beneath my feet shake.

"Wow thanks," I reply sarcastically though I appreciate he's only trying to be nice.

When I've exhausted the skip button on the remote, and Dylan's hot footed it to the kitchen I trawl though my phone, to pass the time. Ruby's texted me a picture of her and Joel out in Covent Garden. So many bright lights in the background, the joyous atmosphere oozing all around them, on their ecstatic matching expressions as they peer into the camera. Fresh from an enjoyable dinner at a restaurant we'd previously researched for a features list.

They look so carefree and happy and young. Still deeply intrenched in the bliss of infatuation. Riding the wave of still being firmly in the honeymoon period of a new relationship. It only heightens my fear of missing out, that something is missing.

Any honeymoon period for myself and Dylan feels like it's run its course. The British Government's interference likely to stamp it out for certain once they become aware that he's close to out staying his welcome too.

And when I think about him having to potentially leave I don't feel good or happy or relieved. I feel like I would miss him if he left. But I also don't feel the same pang of disappointment like I would have had a month or so ago still knee deep in my infatuation.

Truthfully I don't really know if a lust like this can survive the potential outcome of a long distance relationship. If it's even that - a relationship. Because we are so unbelievably casual sometimes it wouldn't even surprise me if I came knocking and he'd already packed up and left.

If dating really does mean something else entirely to Americans.

When we sit down to eat, he's quiet. And after that I find that we're back on the sofa having worn out playing vinyls I've barely any interest in and boardgames that live up to their namesake over the weeks. There really is so much you can do cooped up in one place. No matter if it's in the company of an attractive man.

One whose interest seems to be waning too.

And I find that this results in an even stronger urge for wine, trashy reality TV and sprawling Box Sets like I've been indulging in with Ruby back at her apartment, where I've left a bag of clothes and toiletries for my unscheduled stay overs.

Really, right now I just want to be immersed in the rush of the unknown, the unpredictability of going out without a set plan. No TV. No sit down sofa dinners. No repeats of Back to The Future because there's only so much of a good thing until it becomes stale, and not so special.

I need something to keep my mind ticking over, to stop me from becoming stagnant. And I know that so many of the things I know would reverse such a feeling are terrible for me, and just bad ideas but I crave them.

He's the worst mistake I love to repeat.

But terrible people like to do terrible things, and even with a handsome man by my side I am still not quite content as perhaps I'd hoped to be. Lust keeping it together and the fear of having to face up to certain realities. I am so restless that I can't even sleep when the time comes, and Dylan tucks himself in beside me.

Fear keeping me up. Eyes wide awake. Body unsettled.

Because I know I am not living my best life.

. . .