There was a second where he looked me in the eye and said quietly "I'm not sure I ever knew you." This, from the guy who gently stole my virginity by degrees, who coaxed forth my first orgasm. We pushed our teenage selves so far together, decadent and unashamedly hedonistic... and a decade later he decides he never knew me? I should be clear: we weren't just about sex.
This boy and I never ran out of things to talk about. We never stopped dreaming up ways to rule the world. We'd be awake at four in the morning still drawing, writing, creating, dreaming. I thought I told him everything, but perhaps he wasn't listening.
There was another second, just after I said "But of course! You find adoration irresistible!" when I thought he was going to lunge across the table, hands clawing for my neck, and we would break each other again. He began - "How DARE you?!" only quieted when I - apparently unpeturbed - reached for my glass of red and sipped demurely.
Wrongfooted because he couldn't deny it, and oh, how he stumbled, trying to climb back up.
I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect the suggestion of my toes sliding lasciviously along his inner thigh may have upset his balance a little. He schooled me altogether too well.
We left, I drove: that too a blast of nostalgia, back to the days when I had a license and he didn't.
Back at his flat, I knew what was coming. The cliche just slipped out. "Would you like to come in for coffee?"
"That's so kind of you, but really I must keep going."
He asked for it.
"Actually, I'm meant to be somewhere... now, pretty much."
Confusion, loud and clear.
"I thought.... J's away? You said.."
"Yep. He is. And I have somewhere else to be."
Suddenly he realised; the immaculate hair, my perfect scarlet mouth and kamikaze heels were never for him.
"Bye, darling. It was so nice to catch up. See you again soon."
I left a pale brand on his left cheekbone and drove away humming.
Stupid boy. It was never for him. It's just not always for someone else, either.