Page 8 of The Best Ex of My Life

I hurried home after The Koffee Pot, ready to get started on delving back through my past boyfriends to find my best ex. Over lunch we worked out a plan. Thanks to a few rounds of rock, paper, scissors, it was decided that Karina would set me up, I would set Teddy up and Teddy would set Karina up. As we talked more about our exes, reminding each other of the men that wouldn’t be making a best ex shortlist any time soon as well as some of the better ones, I felt giddy with excitement. Teddy and Karina were doing this for me, to give me a break from the disappointments of the last year, but I could tell they were starting to get onboard.

Teddy might claim she’s happily single, content to get by with hook ups as she works hard on trying to get her career to resemble her vision of being an estate agent, but I saw the way she was in the summer when her older brother, Jack, got married. I’ve not forgotten the languid looks or her speech when she talked about how amazing it must be to find your person. Despite what she says, she wants love, and unlikely as it seems, this might be a way for her to find it. And Karina might always be dating, but she’s growing sick of all the flaws she keeps finding. I can tell she’s warmed to the idea of going out with someone that Teddy has vetted and thinks would be a good match for her.

I came back to the flat determined to find someone great for Teddy so we could all get started on setting each other up.

That was two days ago.

After trawling through old messages and emails, it hasn’t been too difficult to put together a list of the men I’ve been out with. The harder part has been remembering what these men were like. Harder still, recalling what it was I’d liked about them enough to make me go out with them in the first place. Cringing through message threads, re-reading the too-keen, often too-passive words I’d typed years ago, I thought of the men I sent them to, and wondered why I bothered. I always thought I’d been unlucky to get to twenty-eight and not find love, but seeing myself through my old interactions, I’m not sure I can blame my poor love life entirely on bad luck. As comforting as it’s been to think my love life has been out of my control, I’ve got to take some responsibility for my abysmal decisions. Ray, the bouncer I dated for a month when I was twenty-two, who might have let me into Club Cuba for free but had a gold tooth and texted me after our first date offering to give me some cash towards a boob job, was just one example of said bad decision-making.

Toby, Jay and Eddie are the only three out of dozens I can remember something good about, but even so, none of them really qualify as a ‘best’ ex, and I’m not sure Teddy is going to be all that thrilled dating any of them.

Without anything else planned today, I make the decision to come into school, hoping that not thinking about who to choose will clear my head a little and allow a front runner to naturally reveal himself.

I love being in school when the children aren’t. There’s a space in the silence I can savour. So much of my day-to-day job is loud and frantic, it’s nice to sit in my empty classroom, looking out at the empty desks, optimistically planning lessons and creating new displays like I used to when I was beginning my teacher training. I start off well, creating a new, perhaps slightly gory Lady Macbeth display with drops of red paint all over to represent the metaphoric blood on her hands, but after that my energy wanes, and instead of more work, I open a notebook and start a new page, which I split into three columns: Toby, Jay and Eddie.

I’m just about to start a list of pros and cons when my door swings open, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

‘I thought I heard someone clanging about in here,’ Elliot says.

He approaches my desk, and I smile as I take in his appearance. His outfit, if I saw it on any other toned, tall man of thirty would absolutely get my seal of approval, but instead I pull my mouth up into an amused smile when I see it on El.

‘What?’ he asks, looking down at his faded Oasis T-shirt and jeans.

Term time Elliot is known for his collection of merino wool jumpers in slightly different shades of grey, which he rotates in order and always wears with ironed chinos and gleaming brogues. He takes pride in looking professional. I guess we all wear armour in one way or another. I’ve always thought of this as his. He’s even been known to come into school wearing thin tortoiseshell glasses, even though I know his eyesight is near perfect.

Holiday Elliot is like a different person.

‘Nothing,’ I say, before following it up with, ‘If the kids could see you now, they’d hardly recognise you.’

It’s not entirely true. His naturally floppy black hair is still styled back from his head, his eyes are as startlingly blue as always and his white Nikes are extraordinarily clean. When he strides towards me and sits on the end of my desk, I smell the familiar scent of his Hugo Boss aftershave and my stomach does this little involuntary whirl, which sometimes happens when he catches me off guard. But very quickly, I remind myself it’s to be expected. It’s a great aftershave, and totally fine to admire it on him. Elliot also happens to be ridiculously good looking and it’s only natural for my body to respond like this. I am no Biology teacher as the bottom set year eights will attest to after I had to cover their class and mixed up osmosis with photosynthesis, but even I know about human nature. Involuntary stomach whirls would happen to lots of people who found themselves this close to him.

‘If the kids could see me now, they’d probably call me a loser for being in school when I don’t need to be. Same for you, too. What are you doing here on such a nice day?’

‘Just freshening up my classroom,’ I say, instinctively covering the open notebook with my hand as he comes closer to my desk.

He picks up one of my pens from the coffee cup I use as a holder and starts to twirl it in his hand, a smile creeping onto his face.

‘I really don’t understand this pen. Why is it fluffy and why does it have eyes on it? Who on earth thought that ink and fluff needed to collide to create this?’

‘Excuse me, that’s the panda pen Karina bought me when she went to Edinburgh Zoo, and I happen to think ink and fluff are an excellent combination.’

‘Clearly,’ he says, looking at the other fluffy pens sticking out of the coffee cup.

‘What?’ I ask in mock seriousness. ‘Do you think being a fluffy pen hoarder undermines my reputation as a fearsome teacher?’

‘Of course not. You’ve got the kids quaking in their boots whenever they enter your classroom.’

‘Really?’

His lips twitch into a smile. ‘No, not really. You mark their essays with this,’ he says, holding up the pen. ‘Besides, you’re far too kind to them to be fearsome.’

My cheeks heat at his casual compliment, but he doesn’t notice as his attention has landed on the notebook I’ve been trying to cover.

‘What’ve you got there?’

‘Nothing.’

I’ve always been a crap fibber, the kind whose reddening face betrays them at the slightest mistruth. I can feel the heat spreading up from my neck to cheeks under the glare of those deep blue eyes. Elliot reaches forward to move my hand away and at first, I resist, until I become too aware of the pressure of his hand on mine and snap mine away.