Page 23 of The Best Ex of My Life

‘Yep. You do that,’ I tell him, and a little laugh escapes that I’m hoping he takes to mean I’m laughing at him and this weirdness rather than it being the nervous giggle it really is.

He stares at me for a few beats, his eyes still larger than normal before he gives a shrug and unbuttons his shirt.

I look anywhere but at his body while he changes. I pretend to study the rails of clothes, the Perspex shoe boxes, the shelves of T-shirts organised by colour, the ridiculous amount of beige chinos he owns, making out I’m completely engrossed by it all. But despite my efforts, there are still times I catch sight of his bare chest in my peripheral vision, the muscles on his arms and what I think might be the outline of a six pack and my stomach tightens in response.

I make myself focus only on the dressing room I’m in and not the man in it, until I hear a small cough.

‘OK.’

I turn back to him and discover I was completely right. The navy shirt fits across his wide shoulders beautifully, and his eyes when I look up at them are deeper and more brooding than I’ve ever seen them.

‘Does it look all right? Like I said, it’s fairly old.’

‘Good.’ The word comes out as a whisper, and I swallow before trying again. ‘It looks good,’ I say in a clearer voice.

‘Are you sure? It’s not too tight here?’ Any embarrassment seems to have evaporated from him now he’s changed and is in front of his mirror studying his reflection.

He points to his chest, where the buttons meet, and I step forward, willing my own embarrassment to disappear so he won’t notice it.

‘No, you just need to readjust the material a bit. Here.’

He turns to face me, and before I know it, my hands are on his chest, and I’m pulling the material off his warm skin. He looks down at me and our eyes meet. I’ve looked at Elliot’s face hundreds, probably thousands of times. I’m great at reading his expressions, at knowing his moods, sometimes before even he does, and he’s the same with me. But I don’t know this face looking back at me. This expression I can’t read, this mood I don’t know. He narrows his eyes and I’m sure he’s thinking the exact same thing about me.

Unthinkingly, I start to glide my fingers over his chest, taking in not only the feel of the material but how tight the muscles are underneath, how warm his skin is, how I can feel the rise and fall of the deep breaths he’s taking.

I don’t know how long we stay like that – probably no more than two seconds, although it feels like time has slowed to a near stop. It’s Elliot who breaks the spell, stepping back suddenly, and I step back too, pulling my hands back as if I’ve touched a stove top, shoving them into the pockets of my dress. He coughs again, only this time it’s out of nervousness.

I don’t dare look at him. ‘Better,’ I get out before backing out of the dressing room. ‘I’ll let you get changed in peace,’ I say before escaping to his kitchen.

‘So? Do you think Teddy will like it?’ he asks when he comes to join me a few minutes later, dressed again in the clothes he wore for work. I hear his determination to make things normal between us, to get back to where we should be.

‘Yeah. Yeah. She will.’ I follow his lead, pushing past the moment in the dressing room, to get back on solid ground, to focus on Teddy and the amazing date she’s going to have. ‘Like I say, you can’t go wrong with a classic.’

I’m also good at doing this. Part of becoming such good friends with someone you once slept with is sidestepping the awkward bits that come along every now and again. Time has told us we can do it well. The hope is that eventually the awkward moments will pass altogether and the shadow those few hours we spent in bed casts over us will fade completely.

‘Thanks, Lizzie. It’s a good job you’re here.’ He reaches out to give me a quick squeeze on my shoulder, his touch friendly, familiar. Appropriate.

‘Good luck, then,’ I say to him when I’ve made my excuses to leave, and he’s opened the front door to let me out. ‘You’ll have a great time. I know Teddy might come across as a little intimidating and like someone who cares about being seen in the right places, but that’s not the case. She might be achingly cool, but she doesn’t look for that from anyone else. She’s best friends with me, isn’t she? Remember she’s kind and funny and loves a good in-depth conversation almost as much as, well … you.’

‘OK,’ Elliot says, before taking in a gulp of air and expelling it out again in a shaky gush.

‘Seriously, it will be great,’ I say, appreciating exactly how nervous he is the more I try to reassure him. ‘Why are you so worried about this? Surely, you’ve been out with enough women to have a decent handle on a second date.’

‘I have, but this isn’t as casual as a lot of my other second dates, is it? You’ve set us up. We’re both coming to this knowing you think we’re a good match, and I know how much you want this whole plan of yours to work out. Teddy said your first date with Jordan went really well and you said you couldn’t wait for the next one, which is wonderful, really, it is, but it kind of puts the pressure on a bit.’

That’s why he didn’t ask me about Jordan. He didn’t need to. It’s an adjustment to our friendship I hadn’t thought about having to make – me not having to tell him everything about what’s going on with me because he now has another source of information. Before now, it’s been completely up to me what I share with Elliot about my life outside school, because there’s been no common person between us to tell him anything I don’t want. It’s not that I wouldn’t have told him about Jordan if he’d have asked, but I would have been able to decide what to say. I wonder if Teddy being around is going to mean less messages between us, less Sunday evening voice notes back and forth about the weekend. I wonder if he’ll no longer feel the need for us to wander down to the local café in our free periods when we’ve been busy and need to catch up because he’ll already know how I’ve been.

As these thoughts clutter my mind, I can feel a lump growing in my throat, before I tell myself to snap out of it. As much as I’m starting to work out how greatly our friendship could change, as unwelcome as that all is, that’s not the most important issue right now.

‘There’s no pressure whatsoever, I promise. Please treat this like any other date, El, and don’t worry about it needing to work. Go and enjoy some overly expensive sushi and a drink or two with liquid nitrogen coming out of it. Stop worrying.’

‘OK,’ he says again, and this time there’s no shaky breath after it, only a small smile. ‘I do like her, you know, and I am looking forward to tonight, especially now I’ve got my outfit nailed. Thanks, Lizzie.’

I plaster the biggest smile I can muster on my face. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘I’m glad it’s going well with Jordan, by the way. Sorry I never asked about him. It’s just—’

‘No worries,’ I say, cutting him off. I have no idea what he means by it’s just, why he didn’t want to find out about my date himself, but I don’t ask. It feels like we’re at our limit of being in each other’s love lives. ‘Goodnight, Elliot.’