"Tim?"
He turned his head slightly to look behind him and then when he caught my eye he turned fully. I wondered why I had called out to him. I regretted it as we looked at each other in the line of the coffee shop. He seemed quite alarmed as he took in my appearance.
"Emily? Wow, em," he stammered a little in surprise.
The git was as beautiful as ever. More even. Now that we were older everyone had aged but not him. He had the same arrogant eternal youthfulness about him. The real Dorian Gray. I suddenly felt very conscious of my appearance. When we had been at University I was in my bohemian era with flowing skirts and beaded bracelets but now I had conformed to the grey and white attire of a publishing office. My hair hadn't been dyed in a long time, my nails were chipped and my makeup was sweaty and patchy from the heat. I looked at his sleek but casual jeans, deep purple shirt hidden beneath a very British black coat, the collar turned up slightly, whether by default or design I wasn't sure. His shoes were typical, black and shiny and his hair was pushed back showing off his features.
"You look great," he said with enthusiasm. He didn't even seem like he was lying which didn't surprise me. One of the most endearing and repulsive things about him, I recalled, was his naivety mixed with a genuine desire to make those around him feel good.
"How have you been," he asked cheerfully but with a little caution; no doubt wondering if we were on good terms given how things had ended between us. We had approached the front of the line now and the girl behind the counter looked at him eagerly to take his order.
"Hi Marie," he chirped to the girl and then insisted that he would buy my coffee too. 'The proper gentleman' I thought to myself scornfully.
"Espresso," I stated while he ordered a black coffee for himself. He gave me a somewhat apologetic look as the girl began to chat to him. Flirt with him more like. He mostly appeared to laugh it off and told her to have a nice day as he handed me my coffee. She glared at me with venom.
I reluctantly joined him on one of the leather sofas that had numerous coffee stains and he asked me once again how I was.
"Great," I lied as he poured some sugar into this cup. He looked up and smiled.
"Where are you living? I'm surprised I haven't bumped into you before."
I crossed my legs and sipped at my drink, noticing the barista was still glaring at me.
"I've just moved into the area, a flat. It's beautiful. Two bedrooms," I smiled with as much enthusiasm I could muster whilst neglecting to mention that only one of the bedrooms was mine. Why had I even mentioned it at all. I was hoping he wouldn't ask about it.
"That's great," he somewhat laughed. Everything about him was completely at odds with the boy I remembered. This version of Tim seemed so much more charming and confident than the Tim I had lived with all those years ago. His eyes were still the most magnificent shade of green and he seemed graceful in his movements, like he had finally grown into himself. I thought dully about how I must look after so many years and if he was trying to be extra nice to me to make up for the apparent misery I must be living. My stomach twisted when I saw the glint of silver on his ring finger.
"You're married," I asked nervously, knowing that this would be the icing on the cake to his perfect life.
He looked down at it then for a moment.
"No," he replied somewhat sternly, as though I was venturing into deep waters.
"Engaged," I asked puzzled, wondering why a man would be wearing an engagement ring.
"It's a promise ring," he explained kindly as he sat a little further forward in his seat to grasp his coffee again.
"What, like teenagers do," I laughed and then felt bad about it when he looked at me sadly.
"It was really nice to see you Emily but I'm afraid I have to run," he said sincerely and reached over to hug me. I wondered if he really had to or he was desperate to get away from this awkward conversation.
"You too," I stammered. "Maybe see you around, sometime, maybe."
"Sure," he beamed. He gave a little wave to the girl behind the counter who looked like she couldn't have been happier and then he made a dignified and elegant exit with the door swishing closed behind him. I contemplated making this my regular coffee haunt seeing as the girl knew him. He must be here all the time.
I wished I'd said something about seeing his book in the shops, or asked where he was living or something. After all that I felt like it hadn't really happened. I hadn't gleamed much information from the encounter but I was sure he had about me. He had that way about him of seeing all the things you wanted to keep hidden. I thought back on how much I hated him and how in my mean spiritedness had turned everyone against him and yet he greeted me with the same enthusiasm as an old friend. It made me feel guilty for disliking him. Same as ever then.