Page 46 of The Best Ex of My Life

‘You look tired,’ Elliot tells me when he sees me in the staffroom the next morning. ‘Big weekend, was it?’

‘Something like that,’ I lie. ‘How was your weekend? Teddy was telling us how pleasantly surprised she was to find out there were so many clothes shops in such an outstanding area of natural beauty.’

He smirks, and I catch what I’m sure is some of the leftover happiness in his expression from his weekend with Ted. ‘Yeah, who knew. I’d packed for hiking, not realising I’d discover not one but three branches of Barbour over the weekend. Silly me. What did you get up to while we were away?’

‘Just spending time with Jordan.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘Yep.’

A silence opens up between us and I rush into it. My brain automatically starts coming up with an excuse to get away from the conversation. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to teach year nine persuasive writing in five minutes, so I should go.’

‘Sure. I’ve got to meet with the governors this morning. I should go too.’

‘OK.’

‘OK. Bye then,’ he says and walks off quickly. I watch him go, wondering when the memory of the dance we had together will start to fade, when it won’t flash up in my mind whenever I see him.

So far in our friendship, the memory of every encounter we’ve had that has pushed the boundaries of our relationship has faded with time – the night we had sex, the aftermath of that, the argument about Teddy when I gave him a glimpse of how I felt – or we’ve adjusted to it. When I decided I’d let go of my feelings for Elliot, I did so with the confidence that I’d be able to manage it because I’d done it before.

And yet, for some reason, my brain isn’t letting that dance slink off into the shadows. Those few minutes in Elliot’s arms managed to knock down every brick I’d built up between us. Much as I’m trying to rebuild my wall, to try and stack up memories of the good times I’m having with Jordan so high that Elliot completely disappears from view, it’s not working. The wall keeps crumbling and no matter how hard I try, I can’t block Elliot out this time.

Everything is still so vivid, especially the pressure of his hand on my back pushing me closer to him. He could have kept a gap between us. He could have carried on dancing politely and a little awkwardly before going back to the group, but he didn’t. Did he want me closer? It’s pretty hard to let the questions go. I’m sure the day will come when I don’t feel heat spreading across my chest and up my neck when I see him, but I wish it would hurry up. I’ve been telling my brain that it meant nothing ever since it happened, but this time my body doesn’t seem to be getting the message.

I go off to my classroom and greet my first class of the day. I don’t see Elliot at all until I’m heading home and pass Mr Montgomery’s office. The door is open, and I spot him sitting in one of the seats opposite Mr Montgomery, a wide desk between them covered with open files. He looks like he’s going to be in there for some time. I catch his eye and give him a little wave of solidarity. He grimaces in return.

Checking my phone on the way out, I see I’ve a missed call from Jordan. We normally don’t see each other on Mondays, as we both need an evening in the week to catch up with our boring jobs before coming together again. With Jordan’s boxing match taking place this weekend, I wasn’t expecting to hear much from him this week as he admitted on Sunday he still feels woefully underprepared, but I hope he’s ringing to say that he wants to come round. It will be nice to see him, to watch some TV and to switch off for a few hours.

‘Shall we go out tonight?’ he asks straight away when he picks up.

‘Oh, OK. I was planning on getting straight into my PJs when I got home, but I suppose I could be convinced to wear clothes for a few more hours.’

‘Good. Shall we say half seven. Wagamama?’

‘Sure.’

Wagamama isn’t our usual choice, but then again it is a Monday evening, and Jordan does, as I’m learning, love a chain restaurant.

I get home, quickly feed Bud and change my outfit to jeans, a tank top and my leather jacket before rushing out to meet him.

‘Is something going on?’ I ask after we’ve both studied the menus, ordered and had our drinks delivered, and it occurs to me he hasn’t touched me, hasn’t held my hand across the table, hasn’t kissed me or even looked at me properly since we arrived.

His gaze wanders around the half-empty restaurant, to the ceiling and to his hands before he seems to agree internally on something and locks his eyes on mine for the first time all night. ‘I wasn’t going to start this until after our noodles, but yeah. We need to talk, Lizzie.’

‘Oh.’

Straight away, I know where this is going. I swallow and brace myself for it, stunned that I didn’t see it coming, that our relationship has led here, to a dumping in Wagamama on a Monday night.

‘You should know there’s a huge part of me that doesn’t want me to say any of this, that wants me to shut up and just enjoy another night with you, because it’s you and you’re incredible and you’re all I’ve ever wanted in a girlfriend, but I know I’ve got to ignore that part, because this isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep pretending that we’re both in this together and we both feel the same when I know it’s not true.’

‘What’s not true?’ I ask. ‘You know how much I like you, how great I think we are together.’

‘I know you like me,’ he concedes before putting his hand on the table. Despite knowing there’s no coming back from this, that his hand is nothing more than a comfort hand to make this easier to bear, I find myself reaching for it and interlocking my fingers with his. He looks down at our hands long enough for me to begin to hope that now we’re together he’s changed his mind, that the next time he speaks it will be to tell me to forget what he said. But when his eyes meet mine again, there’s determination in them. ‘I know you keep telling yourself that this is working, but it’s not. Not really.’ He takes a deep breath before he continues. ‘It’s like I heard your mum saying: you’re settling with me.’

Guilt washes over me at the thought of Jordan hearing all the things Mum said about him the afternoon we went over to hers. ‘No, I’m not. I’m really not.’

‘Yes, you are.’ He gives me a sad smile, and I know then that this break up is about me, that he’s doing this for me, not him, because that’s the kind of decent guy I’ve ended up with, and it’s all about to implode. ‘You might tell yourself you’re happy with me. You might believe it, but you’re not. I’ve seen the difference in you too. It’s not just your mum. You’ve changed since we first met. Those first few dates of ours were amazing. You shone with this optimism and openness that I couldn’t help but fall for. You’re amazing, Lizzie, you are, but you’ve also changed since we’ve been together. I’m not sure you’re as happy now. I don’t want to be the reason for that, and I don’t want you to wake up a year down the line, five years down the line, and resent me for it. That would kill me. If we stay together, we might make it work for now, but we’re going to end up miserable. You because you’re not in love with me the way you want to be in love, and me because I’ve known that, and I’ve been selfish trying to keep you.’