My Favourite Part

18: crossroads

It's finally here. Eric's birthday is 5 days away. I've shopped, prepped, and stressed to no end, and now that it's finally here, all I want is for everyone to stop being so... kind.

Lisa and Bea offered to move in to keep Mum company whilst I'm at 'basketball camp with Babe'.

Some kindly neighbour offered to watch Erys on days when nobody's home.

Cara's dad insisted that their family driver take us all to the train station. He'd have him to drive us all the way to bloody Edinburgh, if we'd allow it.

...Is it wrong that I want it all to just stop?

Maybe if Mum had told me not to go, and Lisa and Bea had said 'shame on you for leaving your mother', and Cara's dad had told us to sod off and take the bus, I wouldn't feel to guilty to be lying to every single one of them.

Instead, everyone's all smiles and support, and 'you deserve to enjoy yourself, poppet! Don't miss us too much!'

Cara says it's Catholic guilt, and that lying to be with a boy is a rite of passage. Like the time I told Mum I was going to the library to study for mocks, but I actually went to stare at Gabe Lamotti while he studied. I understand it in theory. But, I'm not Catholic. And being in the Cotswolds with Eric seems a rung higher than being Lamotti-adjacent in the library.

I guess it's easier to feel like I'm supposed to be with Eric with when I'm... with Eric.

But it's like the universe wants me to be excited. Everything's in place at home. Eric's texted me that he'll pick me up from the station. Cara's driver is playing Billy Joel. If everything really is going well, and isn't 'too perfect to be true', then all that's left is... perfect.

"Pucker," Cara says when we get to King's Cross Station. She's reapplying her lucky lip gloss to me for the 6th time since we left. She's excited enough for the both of us. This is exciting, right? I just wish the butterflies in my stomach got the memo.

Mum's looking at us with the sweetest smile, and although I get the sense that she might be, I hope she's not tearing up again. I almost didn't tell her about the 'basketball camp'. She'd asked about it when she saw the flyer I'd found, for credibility's sake, in the trash.

Angie, sweetie, you have to go – you can't stay cooped up all half-term because of me! We won't let whatshisface steal anymore of our time. You're going to Edinburgh. And that was that.

"Okay, okay," Lisa says, breaking up the group cuddle, and flitting a hand about in front of her face, "I have meetings today; we need to go before I cry all my makeup off." She almost starts up again when Cara, ever prepared, offers her a sleek compact of Chanel blotting paper.

"It's literally 2 weeks, guys, and I'll text every day," Babe says, rolling her eyes, but her nose is red, and I know she'll miss them too.

"Me too." I say, with as sincere a smile as I can muster, and Mum's tear-glossy eyes sparkle.

"Platform 11 for the 08:03 London North Eastern Railway service to Edinburgh. Calling at..."

"That's us."

　————-　♡　————-

It's 07:54: Lisa, Bea and Mum are waiting for Cara in the car, and Cara, Babe and I are waiting here. Not for the train – we know where that is, and Babe's glancing between platform 11 and her watch every 17 seconds, to make sure that it doesn't somehow leave without her. We... are waiting for Eric. Although I'd much prefer if it was just me.

"Babe," I grasp her wrist when the time between watch-checks drops to 11 seconds, "go get on the bloody train, you don't need to wait. You too, Caz, I'm a big girl."

Caz simpers, as expected,

"Uh, I'd like to see him before I leave. How do I know you're not being kidnapped by some old creep? Shut up, Babe." She adds with a stern finger before Babe, with her witty smirk, can comment.

I spot him first, thankfully. We're in the balcony, and he's down below, amongst throngs of commuters and tourists, turning left and right and craning his neck for any sight of me, and, periodically, apologising for getting in the way of the morning rush. From this bird's-eye view, under the ceiling's glass dome, his caramel-coloured hair looks streaked with stripes of honey, and in his Oxford University sweatshirt with the sleeves hiked up, dad jeans and beat up Air Forces, he's both irrefutably handsome and utterly adorable.

"He's there," I say quietly, although there's no way he could hear us over the hubbub of thousands.

"Woah," Cara gasps, "Mag-lin looks lush sans monkey suit."

I blush, and for a second it's like showing my friends a picture of the cute guy I've been talking to. Nothing more complicated, nothing less special – just a cute guy I adore.

When she spots him, Babe loops her arms around both our waists, and pulls us into the tightest hug with closed eyes. Her words are so heartfelt that I feel my heart tremble, just a little, and she whispers so wholeheartedly that I want to cry. I know how much it took for her to trust in Eric and me.

"Bye, Angie. Call us for anything, okay?"

Caz nods, and I feel her lash extensions flutter on my cheek. When we come apart it's her that smiles first, with mama-bird-letting-the-youngest-leave-the-nest eyes.

"Have fun, bébé."

I thank them for everything 100 times, and tell Caz she can go home and Babe that she can get on her train before it bloody leaves, but I feel them watching when I walk away, when I go down the escalator, and when I tap Eric on the shoulder and breathe in his scent deeply when he pulls me in for a hug. When he stops to get a coffee before we leave, I laugh and I roll my eyes, blowing a final kiss and wave to them when they're standing exactly where I left them.

"Ready?" Eric says, handing me a hot Starbucks cup, with care and a kiss on the nose.

"Lead the way..." I say, taking a sip to hide my smirk, "...Honourable Eric Macklin."

I grin when he groans, and ugh I'm so excited for this to be my life for the next week.

"I hope you know that's the only way I plan to address you from now on."

"Fine, then I'll be taking my coffee back."

"No, not my macchiato!" I whine, stifling my laughter. "Please, Honourable Eric Macklin, I'm sorry!"