Fic: Dating the Cleverest Boy in the World. Chapter 31.
Next chapter, as promised. (Make sure you've read Chapter 30 first, they go together.)
Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up, or just follow the tags. Also on AO3 and The Teaspoon.
Summary: Allison had always thought that university would be an adventure. But she'd not imagined that she'd end up dating Harold Saxon's son.
Setting: Summar 2029
Characters (this chapter): Allison, Andrew, Jess. (Brief appearance by Toby & Troy.)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 4300 approx
Feedback: Makes my world go round... No really. You have no idea.
Chapter 31
Summer 2029
It was officially the start of the summer holidays, and there were celebrations to be had. On the back of Manchester University acknowledging her Master’s, Allison had applied to Harvard for a Doctorate... and been successful!
It seemed like a dream. Harvard was - if possible - something more unreal than NASA. Something out of movies. Not something that would be part of her life come autumn... She was applying for visas, and trying to decide how much time she wanted to spend there, as she could do part of it ‘long distance’, so she didn’t have to pack up her life in the UK completely. It was an exciting whirlwind, and she felt slightly like she was floating.
(She’d be a Doctor of Science. Just like him. There was something immensely important about that.)
The orchestra had gone on hiatus, but Toby asked Andrew to come along for the impromptu celebration they decided to indulge in once everything was more-or-less settled.
“Feels wrong going out drinking without him, y’know?”
Troy insisted on buying the first round, and hauled Allison along to the bar to carry. She protested, saying that surely she should be served - what with being the cause of the celebrations - but Troy merely rolled his eyes, and she laughed and followed.
As they waited for the bartender to get the different drinks ready, Troy shot her an inscrutable look.
“He likes you, you know.”
She blinked, thrown out of her thoughts.
“Who? What?”
“Andrew. He likes you.”
“OK...” she replied, not following. They argued now and again, but it was pretty good-natured. She’d just discovered that he had an argumentative streak and had fun pressing his buttons - and as she had never worried that he’d hold it against her, Troy’s reassurance seemed to come out of nowhere.
And now Troy was rolling his eyes.
“Christ Allie, how can you be so smart and so dim at the same time? He likes you!”
A significant look followed, and it was all she could do not to turn around and shoot Andrew a look.
“Oh,” she said stupidly, as the significance sank in. “Oh. I see. Right.”
The rest of the evening passed in a strange sort of blur.
In the back of her mind was a little voice saying ‘He likes me’, over and over, and she found herself looking at him with new eyes.
If he noticed, he didn’t let on - and besides Troy could talk enough for ten people. Plus, they were drinking... Or celebrating, rather. Except Doctorates and Harvard suddenly seemed somehow distant compared to other things.
Like how broad-shouldered Andrew was. (He’d run a marathon a few years ago for breast cancer, she knew, because of his mother.)
And how she really liked the way he smiled. (She had thought him ‘ordinary’ once, she seemed to recall. How strange that seemed with hindsight. Especially considering tonight’s canary yellow shirt which by all rules of logic ought to look awful, but didn’t.)
How very different he was from the other people in her life - older; settled. He had a proper job and a mortgage and a pension plan. His opinions were based on experience and not ideals, and he had wealth of stories and viewpoints that didn’t come from going out hunting for adventures when a teenager, but quite simply from accumulating experiences over many years.
Which might be why she enjoyed arguing with him so much. They were both contrary and would challenge each other endlessly... He’d dreamed of being a composer she’d discovered, and she thought it foolish to have given up on this ambition. He on the other hand tried to curb her immense self-assurance, warning her that life could throw you curve balls you’d not foreseen. In response to which she called him ‘Betty’ and told him he had no idea... And so on. Any subject under the sun. It had made the post-rehearsal pub gatherings entertaining in ways few other things in her life were.
And now... he liked her. She didn’t have a clue what to do with this insight. It was like a giant truck crashing into her ordered life, throwing all her neatly organised problems into disarray. Would he say something? What would she reply? Her life had been ‘Alex or not Alex’ for so long that the very idea of ‘Alex or someone else’ was nigh on impossible to grasp. Not that she was in love with Andrew or anything (he was just... Andrew), but she might just like him too... And what the hell did that even mean?
At closing time he insisted on walking her home, as they’d both drunk entirely too much to drive, and she lived within walking distance. He’d get a taxi once he’d seen her safely back home.
Yet as they stood outside the door to her flat, there came an awkward pause... She’d thanked him, and he’d said it was nothing and by the rules of normal behaviour either of them should move.
Instead there was the awkward pause, eventually broken by Andrew saying merely “Al-” and tentatively reaching out for her. In response she stepped into his personal space; and his hand pulled her into an embrace as he leaned in to kiss her.
She’d meant it as a good night kiss, as a thank you, as an extension of the evening’s sudden curiosity - her ordinary barriers worn away by the drink.
But she felt his arms around her, strong and assured; felt his body against her own - and feelings and urges that had been buried and banished for months on end suddenly made themselves known again: like a limb that had fallen asleep suddenly waking up and tingling all over.
Desire, hot and new, seemed to run through her, and when the kiss ended she felt her breath hitch, and she didn’t move out of his embrace.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked, scanning his face. “Just for tonight?”
He hesitated, absently letting his hand stroke her back, and she shivered in sudden anticipation.
“Why?” he said, voice becoming oddly rough as his hand pressed her closer to him, and the sensation made her head spin. She could barely remember the last time she’d been this close to anyone, and she wondered what had happened to her sensible, rational side. Maybe she was more drunk than she thought, but something seemed to have come unstuck. She barely knew what she would do next.
“I’m lonely,” she replied, and the unexpected, bitter truth of the statement took her unawares, momentarily shocking her into silence.
Because suddenly she could see what she had been doing...
For months on end she had been cutting herself off from almost everyone, casually letting old friendships slide and not forging new ones. If it hadn’t been for Toby dragging her along to the orchestra she would not know anyone outside her fellow students at the university - and she had been increasingly distant with everyone there as her work pace had increased. Her family (rightly concerned that she’d broken up with her boyfriend and never explained why) had continually been given the brush-off.
And maybe it was the drink, but she felt like she was having an epiphany: Human life was like... an orchestra. Fitting your own tune into the rich tapestry of sound from everyone around you, creating a collective melody. She had known this from infancy, surrounded by a loving family. Except since last autumn she had essentially been aiming for the part of a soloist. In the same way as Alex - who had always been utterly singular (far more so than she had guessed at the beginning) - she had allowed a few supporting players, but overall she had been on track to turn herself into someone like him. Appreciative of others, friendly even, but aloof and remote... America would have been the final step, moving away from the last few people that had a grasp on her.
And what it all added up to was a pre-emptive choice, made through her actions. If she cut out the world of humans, focussing solely on knowledge, it left the world of the Time Lord her only real option... Beautiful, brilliant, magical, singular. But alien.
Abruptly and unexpectedly scared of where she might end up she held onto Andrew more tightly. There was a whole world out there; living, breathing, human. A world of music, rich and varied and wonderful, that she could be part of.
Her world.
Her world, which was somehow, at this moment, manifest in the man in her arms.
“Andrew please-”
He cut her off with another kiss.
After that, there was a search for her keys, and then happy, breathless, glorious passion. The ungracefulness of undressing (when you could only reach the zip on the back of your dress by contortions, it led to helpless giggles - the resulting helpfulness quickly turning to caresses), followed by the inevitable fumbling and awkwardness of a first time, trying to discover what the other liked and what put them off.
And elbows. She could not remember elbows featuring in her sex life the past few years, but she didn’t mind. It was all human. Tentative, unplanned, and not exactly graceful, but real in its basic human need and fervour.
Afterwards, as she laid with her head on his chest (his chest was practically a rug, the hairs tickling her nose), he cleared his throat.
“Just for future reference... I should like to point out that I, well, usually last a good bit longer. A little bit too drunk I’m afraid.”
She smiled, an indefinable joy taking hold of her. The very ordinariness somehow extraordinary. And he’d apologised for being less than perfect...
“Don’t worry,” she said sleepily, smiling against his chest, “it was everything I wanted.”
She fell asleep listening to a single heartbeat, more at peace than she had been in a long, long time.
***
But of course it wasn’t that simple. The next morning brought with it all the troubles she’d been running from, and more besides.
They’d gotten semi-dressed, and had some tea, when Andrew looked at her, smiling happily.
“Now this is sort of back-to-front, but could I invite you out to dinner? It’d be nice to, well, spend some actual time with you. Somewhere other than a pub or surrounded by older ladies.”
“I-” She closed her eyes, cutting off the ‘would love to’ before it escaped her lips.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, this is where it gets complicated.”
He looked a little put out.
“What do you mean? I know you’re going to America, but that’s only temporary, right? A few months here and there.”
Folding her hands, she tried to gather her thoughts. What had seemed so blissfully uncomplicated last night was suddenly a tower of impossibility. And had nothing to do with Harvard. She could hide behind her American stint, but it didn’t feel fair - he deserved the truth.
“My ex... I don’t know how much you know. But... we’re not so much broken up as ‘on a break’...”
Clouds formed on his face as understanding grew.
“So what you’re saying...”
“I broke up with him, but mostly in an attempt at getting my head together, trying to work out if I really wanted to stay with him for good. That was last autumn and.... I’m really no nearer a resolution.”
He shook his head, almost speechless.
”So what was last night? You wanted a roll in the hay and I was to hand?”
“Andrew no-”
“And here I was, thinking that I’d finally found a girl I really liked - someone funny and smart - OK, scarily smart, but I’m fine with that - someone that I really got along with, and who seemed to like me too. And all that time there’s been someone else in the background-”
A sudden penetrating look, as another thing clearly occurred to him.
“Do you love him?”
She nodded miserably.
“Yes. More than I can explain.”
If he’d been incredulous before, now he practically exploded.
“Well what the ever loving fuck did you want with me?”
“I... Please Andrew, will you let me try to explain?”
He sat down and folded his arms, the fury momentarily contained.
“Go on then. Impress me. ‘Cause this better be good.”
Everything was falling to pieces around her, and she wasn’t even sure where to start. She was used to having the moral high ground, to being the injured party. The role reversal was unwelcome and unfamiliar and she wasn’t sure what she was doing.
“It’s just... He’s like - like - Ferris Bueller. No really. Everything just seemed... brighter when he was around. Sort of magical. Imagine living in that movie. For three years. Being with someone who could fix any issue with a smile and a flick of the wrist. Who could have a whole street dancing and singing along...”
She stopped, the analogy having suddenly hit far too close to home.
Andrew wasn’t impressed.
“Well, if he’s so bloody wonderful why did you leave?”
(The people singing, all singing with his voice... And he’d learned his lesson, but still. The things he could do...)
She wrapped her arms around herself. So lonely. She wished he would hold her again. Just until she’d worked out what to do. If only she could have it both ways... Human life during the week, and golden skies during the weekend. And he was still waiting for an answer.
“He... lied to me. For the whole of those three years. Plus, he’s hugely manipulative and... damaged. Massive, huge issues that I can’t even begin to describe. Oh and he sort of cheated on me.”
The look on Andrew’s face was one usually reserved for talking about idiot girls in TV shows.
“Sounds like a real prince,” he remarked sarcastically, and she almost laughed. In her mind she could still hear him say ‘I was born to rule the universe’, could easily envision his beautiful planet...
“He is,” she said simply. “I know what you must be thinking, but I’m not an idiot blinded by love. It’s just... He can give me everything I could ever want, except a normal life. How am I supposed to walk away from that? And he’d do anything for me... It was... like a fairy tale.”
Andrew’s incredulity dissolved into something like a resigned - almost wistful - smile.
“I... guess I forgot how young you are. I remember being 22. That intensity of feeling...”
And in an instant her complex issues changed into anger:
“Oh, don’t you dare patronise me! I’ve done things you can’t dream of and seen things you wouldn’t believe. I really am sorry that I hurt you, and if you want to be angry because of that, then that’s your prerogative, and I accept that. But I seem to remember that I asked you to stay last night because I was lonely, not because I wanted a relationship! I never promised you anything.”
His eyes had widened, like the first time they met and she’d snapped at him, and then he slowly shook his head.
“Your brother did say never to get you angry... Christ almighty Al, I’ll be sure to keep a safe distance from now on.”
She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. There didn’t seem to be anything to say...
***
After he’d gone she sank down into the sofa, trying not to cry. All she’d wanted was some solace, and instead she’d managed to screw over a properly decent guy, probably destroying their friendship for good, and make herself even more miserable in the process. And it was all her own fault. His angry words kept going in circles in her head, impossible to avoid.
‘You put your pleasure above my feelings.’
Well he’d not used those actual words, but the message had been the same.
She seemed on a course to repeat all of Alex’s mistakes firsthand, and she didn’t like it. Maybe she’d just been so changed by their relationship that she was unable to behave normally....
Because she realised that - although she was sorry he’d been upset, not to mention the whole outcome of the thing - she was finding it nigh-on impossible to be sorry that it had happened at all. If he’d been fine, she’d not have felt guilty at all...
Should she just give up on all pretence of ever attaining a normal human life and say yes to Alex? Let herself fall into his world, and his all-encompassing love? Give in, lock stock and barrel - allowing herself to be his completely... The temptation was nearly overwhelming.
(She felt rather like the unnamed girl from Pulp’s Common People - all it’d take would be a single call and she could leave all this behind...)
Her phone vibrated, shaking her out of her defeatist thoughts, and she saw it was a message from Jess. Curious, she opened it.
‘Ali babes, can I crash at yours for a while until I get on my feet again? Got fired and mum’s gone crazy so I can’t go home. Jess’
Without a second’s hesitation she replied.
‘For as long as you like. When are you coming?’
***
Jess turned up a little more than 24 hours later with three designer suitcases and more boisterousness than Allison really knew what to do with.
Not that her life had been completely quiet the past year or so, as Troy was of course... Troy - but he’d calmed down a lot thanks to Toby, and besides, a lot of it was a reaction to his upbringing. Jess was just Jess, the self-proclaimed ‘Capitano’ of any gathering.
“So, um, why did you get fired?” Allison asked, slightly nervously, after they’d stashed Jess’ stuff away in the spare bedroom. “If you don’t mind talking about it?”
“Oh, not at all! I shagged a passenger in the toilets.”
“You what?”
“Allie - what’s the point of being a stewardess if you’re not a member of the Mile High Club? A good few times over...”
She grinned knowingly.
“He was gorgeous - bit film starry, look-wise, and worth a fortune. Some kind of banker I think. Gave me a gold necklace afterwards - think he was feeling guilty.”
“But...”
“Guess we were too loud. Shame, I liked that airline. The skirts were this short.”
She illustrated, and Allison shook her head.
“You never change, do you?”
Jess laughed.
“Never, babes! But what’s up with you? You look so miserable that I’m thinking I didn’t come a moment too soon. Go on, spit it out. What is it? No don’t tell me...”
She closed her eyes, held her hands to her temples.
“A fella!” Her eyes snapped open. “I decree it must be a fella! Allie, what have you been doing?”
So Allison told as much as she could manage to share, and Jess listened to her woes with careful attention, before offering her own unique perspective.
“Right, let me get this straight. You broke up with Mr Perfect because he turned out to be a bit of a dick - lying and cheating and stuff - and his family are mostly psychos. But he was sorry and all that, and he’s cute and rich, so it’s a bit of a toss up. So you get yourself all in a worry about it.”
Allison opened her mouth, but was pre-emptively silenced by a swift ‘Don’t interrupt the Capitano!’ before Jess continued:
“And then when you - for once, in your dull, sensible, spontaneity-challenged life - do something impulsive and sleep with Mr Tall, Dark and Convenient, cause you needed some TLC, he goes all old fashioned on you, and decides that somehow it was the start of something special, and gets all huffy.”
Tilting her head, a frown marring her clear forehead as she twirled a stray golden lock, Jess studied her.
“Now what I don’t get is why you think that somehow this means your life is over and you’re doomed to badness. Allie, we’re twenty two years old! We’re supposed to make mistakes and shag a few dud ones - plus a lot of gorgeous ones with zero brain cells, just cause they’re gorgeous - and generally just have fun. You remember fun, right?”
Jess had a very unfortunate way of putting her finger on the sore spot. Allison tried not to pout.
“I thought you got fired because you had so much ‘fun’ on the job.”
“And look at me! Am I moaning? No, not me. Because it was worth it and I’d do it again.”
Allison was slightly lost for words.
“Well when you put it like that...”
”Allie darling, you always took everything far too seriously. Like I just said: We’re young, we’re gorgeous-”
“You are gorgeous,” Allison amended, and Jess laughed.
“Hey now girl friend, don’t put yourself down. You’ve got assets! Hell, you’re down in the dumps because you’ve got two guys chasing you, and you can’t choose! You’re spoiled, that’s what you are. And anyway, to get back to my point: we’re young and we’re supposed to have fun. So that’s my new mission: To make sure you have fun!”
Jess was very thorough. She swiftly found every bar and club worth going to within the Manchester city area, and declared they had to try each one several times to find out which one was best. She made Allison dress up and drink and dance and flirt, the two of them invariably ending up in ridiculous situations at 2 o’clock in the morning, involving guys in a gorilla suit, or handsome police officers, or a gaggle of drunk admirers that had attached themselves like limpets... ‘The Capitano’ had quite a talent.
Now and again Allison even found herself making out with some of the tag-alongs, although it was mostly to stop them from talking. It would seem that every boy in the whole of Manchester was deathly dull and unable to hold a conversation that could keep her interested for more than a minute. At least the ‘fun loving’ ones...
She missed Andrew. Missed the easy banter they’d had, and the heated discussions, and cursed herself repeatedly for ruining a good friendship. Plus Troy and Toby were unhappy with her about the whole thing.
But Jess never allowed her to dwell on anything for too long, filling up the days with proper girl-y bonding time, catching up on where their lives had led them, and comparing notes on travelling the world.
Still, after a month of ‘fun’ Allison began to feel distinctly... bored. Jess had many good qualities, but she did not posses Allison’s ambition or impatience. So when Professor Trinder sent her an invitation for a Symposium in Cardiff at the start of August she jumped at the chance to do something other than ‘enjoy’ herself.
Jess thought she was mad (‘The average age will be, like, 70!’) but Allison had long since stopped trying to explain the unparalleled thrill of proper, pure science, and how it cut across any barriers. (Well, most barriers. And if there were any sexist old idiots she was more than brilliant enough to hold her own.)
Besides Harvard was beckoning on the horizon... Whatever the future held, she wanted that Doctorate, that much she knew.
As she drove down to Wales she couldn’t help musing on The Choice and her own indecision. It had been close to a year since Alex had told her the truth about himself, and she was no closer to a decision. Yet how could she choose? Normal life on one hand, impossibleness on the other. She was hovering on the edge, unable to take either path, because it meant letting the other go.
With a sensation of her whole head going ‘Oh of course!’ and nearly smacking her own forehead (she was grateful for the auto-steering of the hired car, otherwise she would probably have swerved all over), it occurred to her that this must have been Alex’s dilemma also.
She had - repeatedly - wondered why he had delayed so much in telling her the truth. But this had to be why... Once he’d told, there was no going back. And as she found herself on the brink of a choice of her own, she found she could more easily forgive his hesitation.
And understanding was the first step towards acceptance, wasn’t it?
***
It was nearly night, the last strands of daylight vanishing behind the horizon, by the time she arrived in Cardiff. She found a large multi-story car park and locked the car, thinking that they could have chosen less murky lighting - it was a prime spot for muggings, and dreaded to think what the place was like in winter. Turning on the spot, trying to determine which was the way out and where she’d get a ticket for the car, she noted with irritation that the waist high partitions and the wide concrete pillars did not exactly make it easy to navigate.
But then there was a sudden strange and bright light, and she instinctively leapt behind the nearest pillar. As no explosion followed she peered out, and suddenly felt her heart in her mouth at what she saw.
There seemed to be a golden tear in mid air about 20 yards away, and through it several large, green aliens were stepping.
Chapter 32
Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up, or just follow the tags. Also on AO3 and The Teaspoon.
Summary: Allison had always thought that university would be an adventure. But she'd not imagined that she'd end up dating Harold Saxon's son.
Setting: Summar 2029
Characters (this chapter): Allison, Andrew, Jess. (Brief appearance by Toby & Troy.)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 4300 approx
Feedback: Makes my world go round... No really. You have no idea.
Chapter 31
Summer 2029
It was officially the start of the summer holidays, and there were celebrations to be had. On the back of Manchester University acknowledging her Master’s, Allison had applied to Harvard for a Doctorate... and been successful!
It seemed like a dream. Harvard was - if possible - something more unreal than NASA. Something out of movies. Not something that would be part of her life come autumn... She was applying for visas, and trying to decide how much time she wanted to spend there, as she could do part of it ‘long distance’, so she didn’t have to pack up her life in the UK completely. It was an exciting whirlwind, and she felt slightly like she was floating.
(She’d be a Doctor of Science. Just like him. There was something immensely important about that.)
The orchestra had gone on hiatus, but Toby asked Andrew to come along for the impromptu celebration they decided to indulge in once everything was more-or-less settled.
“Feels wrong going out drinking without him, y’know?”
Troy insisted on buying the first round, and hauled Allison along to the bar to carry. She protested, saying that surely she should be served - what with being the cause of the celebrations - but Troy merely rolled his eyes, and she laughed and followed.
As they waited for the bartender to get the different drinks ready, Troy shot her an inscrutable look.
“He likes you, you know.”
She blinked, thrown out of her thoughts.
“Who? What?”
“Andrew. He likes you.”
“OK...” she replied, not following. They argued now and again, but it was pretty good-natured. She’d just discovered that he had an argumentative streak and had fun pressing his buttons - and as she had never worried that he’d hold it against her, Troy’s reassurance seemed to come out of nowhere.
And now Troy was rolling his eyes.
“Christ Allie, how can you be so smart and so dim at the same time? He likes you!”
A significant look followed, and it was all she could do not to turn around and shoot Andrew a look.
“Oh,” she said stupidly, as the significance sank in. “Oh. I see. Right.”
The rest of the evening passed in a strange sort of blur.
In the back of her mind was a little voice saying ‘He likes me’, over and over, and she found herself looking at him with new eyes.
If he noticed, he didn’t let on - and besides Troy could talk enough for ten people. Plus, they were drinking... Or celebrating, rather. Except Doctorates and Harvard suddenly seemed somehow distant compared to other things.
Like how broad-shouldered Andrew was. (He’d run a marathon a few years ago for breast cancer, she knew, because of his mother.)
And how she really liked the way he smiled. (She had thought him ‘ordinary’ once, she seemed to recall. How strange that seemed with hindsight. Especially considering tonight’s canary yellow shirt which by all rules of logic ought to look awful, but didn’t.)
How very different he was from the other people in her life - older; settled. He had a proper job and a mortgage and a pension plan. His opinions were based on experience and not ideals, and he had wealth of stories and viewpoints that didn’t come from going out hunting for adventures when a teenager, but quite simply from accumulating experiences over many years.
Which might be why she enjoyed arguing with him so much. They were both contrary and would challenge each other endlessly... He’d dreamed of being a composer she’d discovered, and she thought it foolish to have given up on this ambition. He on the other hand tried to curb her immense self-assurance, warning her that life could throw you curve balls you’d not foreseen. In response to which she called him ‘Betty’ and told him he had no idea... And so on. Any subject under the sun. It had made the post-rehearsal pub gatherings entertaining in ways few other things in her life were.
And now... he liked her. She didn’t have a clue what to do with this insight. It was like a giant truck crashing into her ordered life, throwing all her neatly organised problems into disarray. Would he say something? What would she reply? Her life had been ‘Alex or not Alex’ for so long that the very idea of ‘Alex or someone else’ was nigh on impossible to grasp. Not that she was in love with Andrew or anything (he was just... Andrew), but she might just like him too... And what the hell did that even mean?
At closing time he insisted on walking her home, as they’d both drunk entirely too much to drive, and she lived within walking distance. He’d get a taxi once he’d seen her safely back home.
Yet as they stood outside the door to her flat, there came an awkward pause... She’d thanked him, and he’d said it was nothing and by the rules of normal behaviour either of them should move.
Instead there was the awkward pause, eventually broken by Andrew saying merely “Al-” and tentatively reaching out for her. In response she stepped into his personal space; and his hand pulled her into an embrace as he leaned in to kiss her.
She’d meant it as a good night kiss, as a thank you, as an extension of the evening’s sudden curiosity - her ordinary barriers worn away by the drink.
But she felt his arms around her, strong and assured; felt his body against her own - and feelings and urges that had been buried and banished for months on end suddenly made themselves known again: like a limb that had fallen asleep suddenly waking up and tingling all over.
Desire, hot and new, seemed to run through her, and when the kiss ended she felt her breath hitch, and she didn’t move out of his embrace.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked, scanning his face. “Just for tonight?”
He hesitated, absently letting his hand stroke her back, and she shivered in sudden anticipation.
“Why?” he said, voice becoming oddly rough as his hand pressed her closer to him, and the sensation made her head spin. She could barely remember the last time she’d been this close to anyone, and she wondered what had happened to her sensible, rational side. Maybe she was more drunk than she thought, but something seemed to have come unstuck. She barely knew what she would do next.
“I’m lonely,” she replied, and the unexpected, bitter truth of the statement took her unawares, momentarily shocking her into silence.
Because suddenly she could see what she had been doing...
For months on end she had been cutting herself off from almost everyone, casually letting old friendships slide and not forging new ones. If it hadn’t been for Toby dragging her along to the orchestra she would not know anyone outside her fellow students at the university - and she had been increasingly distant with everyone there as her work pace had increased. Her family (rightly concerned that she’d broken up with her boyfriend and never explained why) had continually been given the brush-off.
And maybe it was the drink, but she felt like she was having an epiphany: Human life was like... an orchestra. Fitting your own tune into the rich tapestry of sound from everyone around you, creating a collective melody. She had known this from infancy, surrounded by a loving family. Except since last autumn she had essentially been aiming for the part of a soloist. In the same way as Alex - who had always been utterly singular (far more so than she had guessed at the beginning) - she had allowed a few supporting players, but overall she had been on track to turn herself into someone like him. Appreciative of others, friendly even, but aloof and remote... America would have been the final step, moving away from the last few people that had a grasp on her.
And what it all added up to was a pre-emptive choice, made through her actions. If she cut out the world of humans, focussing solely on knowledge, it left the world of the Time Lord her only real option... Beautiful, brilliant, magical, singular. But alien.
Abruptly and unexpectedly scared of where she might end up she held onto Andrew more tightly. There was a whole world out there; living, breathing, human. A world of music, rich and varied and wonderful, that she could be part of.
Her world.
Her world, which was somehow, at this moment, manifest in the man in her arms.
“Andrew please-”
He cut her off with another kiss.
After that, there was a search for her keys, and then happy, breathless, glorious passion. The ungracefulness of undressing (when you could only reach the zip on the back of your dress by contortions, it led to helpless giggles - the resulting helpfulness quickly turning to caresses), followed by the inevitable fumbling and awkwardness of a first time, trying to discover what the other liked and what put them off.
And elbows. She could not remember elbows featuring in her sex life the past few years, but she didn’t mind. It was all human. Tentative, unplanned, and not exactly graceful, but real in its basic human need and fervour.
Afterwards, as she laid with her head on his chest (his chest was practically a rug, the hairs tickling her nose), he cleared his throat.
“Just for future reference... I should like to point out that I, well, usually last a good bit longer. A little bit too drunk I’m afraid.”
She smiled, an indefinable joy taking hold of her. The very ordinariness somehow extraordinary. And he’d apologised for being less than perfect...
“Don’t worry,” she said sleepily, smiling against his chest, “it was everything I wanted.”
She fell asleep listening to a single heartbeat, more at peace than she had been in a long, long time.
***
But of course it wasn’t that simple. The next morning brought with it all the troubles she’d been running from, and more besides.
They’d gotten semi-dressed, and had some tea, when Andrew looked at her, smiling happily.
“Now this is sort of back-to-front, but could I invite you out to dinner? It’d be nice to, well, spend some actual time with you. Somewhere other than a pub or surrounded by older ladies.”
“I-” She closed her eyes, cutting off the ‘would love to’ before it escaped her lips.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, this is where it gets complicated.”
He looked a little put out.
“What do you mean? I know you’re going to America, but that’s only temporary, right? A few months here and there.”
Folding her hands, she tried to gather her thoughts. What had seemed so blissfully uncomplicated last night was suddenly a tower of impossibility. And had nothing to do with Harvard. She could hide behind her American stint, but it didn’t feel fair - he deserved the truth.
“My ex... I don’t know how much you know. But... we’re not so much broken up as ‘on a break’...”
Clouds formed on his face as understanding grew.
“So what you’re saying...”
“I broke up with him, but mostly in an attempt at getting my head together, trying to work out if I really wanted to stay with him for good. That was last autumn and.... I’m really no nearer a resolution.”
He shook his head, almost speechless.
”So what was last night? You wanted a roll in the hay and I was to hand?”
“Andrew no-”
“And here I was, thinking that I’d finally found a girl I really liked - someone funny and smart - OK, scarily smart, but I’m fine with that - someone that I really got along with, and who seemed to like me too. And all that time there’s been someone else in the background-”
A sudden penetrating look, as another thing clearly occurred to him.
“Do you love him?”
She nodded miserably.
“Yes. More than I can explain.”
If he’d been incredulous before, now he practically exploded.
“Well what the ever loving fuck did you want with me?”
“I... Please Andrew, will you let me try to explain?”
He sat down and folded his arms, the fury momentarily contained.
“Go on then. Impress me. ‘Cause this better be good.”
Everything was falling to pieces around her, and she wasn’t even sure where to start. She was used to having the moral high ground, to being the injured party. The role reversal was unwelcome and unfamiliar and she wasn’t sure what she was doing.
“It’s just... He’s like - like - Ferris Bueller. No really. Everything just seemed... brighter when he was around. Sort of magical. Imagine living in that movie. For three years. Being with someone who could fix any issue with a smile and a flick of the wrist. Who could have a whole street dancing and singing along...”
She stopped, the analogy having suddenly hit far too close to home.
Andrew wasn’t impressed.
“Well, if he’s so bloody wonderful why did you leave?”
(The people singing, all singing with his voice... And he’d learned his lesson, but still. The things he could do...)
She wrapped her arms around herself. So lonely. She wished he would hold her again. Just until she’d worked out what to do. If only she could have it both ways... Human life during the week, and golden skies during the weekend. And he was still waiting for an answer.
“He... lied to me. For the whole of those three years. Plus, he’s hugely manipulative and... damaged. Massive, huge issues that I can’t even begin to describe. Oh and he sort of cheated on me.”
The look on Andrew’s face was one usually reserved for talking about idiot girls in TV shows.
“Sounds like a real prince,” he remarked sarcastically, and she almost laughed. In her mind she could still hear him say ‘I was born to rule the universe’, could easily envision his beautiful planet...
“He is,” she said simply. “I know what you must be thinking, but I’m not an idiot blinded by love. It’s just... He can give me everything I could ever want, except a normal life. How am I supposed to walk away from that? And he’d do anything for me... It was... like a fairy tale.”
Andrew’s incredulity dissolved into something like a resigned - almost wistful - smile.
“I... guess I forgot how young you are. I remember being 22. That intensity of feeling...”
And in an instant her complex issues changed into anger:
“Oh, don’t you dare patronise me! I’ve done things you can’t dream of and seen things you wouldn’t believe. I really am sorry that I hurt you, and if you want to be angry because of that, then that’s your prerogative, and I accept that. But I seem to remember that I asked you to stay last night because I was lonely, not because I wanted a relationship! I never promised you anything.”
His eyes had widened, like the first time they met and she’d snapped at him, and then he slowly shook his head.
“Your brother did say never to get you angry... Christ almighty Al, I’ll be sure to keep a safe distance from now on.”
She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. There didn’t seem to be anything to say...
***
After he’d gone she sank down into the sofa, trying not to cry. All she’d wanted was some solace, and instead she’d managed to screw over a properly decent guy, probably destroying their friendship for good, and make herself even more miserable in the process. And it was all her own fault. His angry words kept going in circles in her head, impossible to avoid.
‘You put your pleasure above my feelings.’
Well he’d not used those actual words, but the message had been the same.
She seemed on a course to repeat all of Alex’s mistakes firsthand, and she didn’t like it. Maybe she’d just been so changed by their relationship that she was unable to behave normally....
Because she realised that - although she was sorry he’d been upset, not to mention the whole outcome of the thing - she was finding it nigh-on impossible to be sorry that it had happened at all. If he’d been fine, she’d not have felt guilty at all...
Should she just give up on all pretence of ever attaining a normal human life and say yes to Alex? Let herself fall into his world, and his all-encompassing love? Give in, lock stock and barrel - allowing herself to be his completely... The temptation was nearly overwhelming.
(She felt rather like the unnamed girl from Pulp’s Common People - all it’d take would be a single call and she could leave all this behind...)
Her phone vibrated, shaking her out of her defeatist thoughts, and she saw it was a message from Jess. Curious, she opened it.
‘Ali babes, can I crash at yours for a while until I get on my feet again? Got fired and mum’s gone crazy so I can’t go home. Jess’
Without a second’s hesitation she replied.
‘For as long as you like. When are you coming?’
***
Jess turned up a little more than 24 hours later with three designer suitcases and more boisterousness than Allison really knew what to do with.
Not that her life had been completely quiet the past year or so, as Troy was of course... Troy - but he’d calmed down a lot thanks to Toby, and besides, a lot of it was a reaction to his upbringing. Jess was just Jess, the self-proclaimed ‘Capitano’ of any gathering.
“So, um, why did you get fired?” Allison asked, slightly nervously, after they’d stashed Jess’ stuff away in the spare bedroom. “If you don’t mind talking about it?”
“Oh, not at all! I shagged a passenger in the toilets.”
“You what?”
“Allie - what’s the point of being a stewardess if you’re not a member of the Mile High Club? A good few times over...”
She grinned knowingly.
“He was gorgeous - bit film starry, look-wise, and worth a fortune. Some kind of banker I think. Gave me a gold necklace afterwards - think he was feeling guilty.”
“But...”
“Guess we were too loud. Shame, I liked that airline. The skirts were this short.”
She illustrated, and Allison shook her head.
“You never change, do you?”
Jess laughed.
“Never, babes! But what’s up with you? You look so miserable that I’m thinking I didn’t come a moment too soon. Go on, spit it out. What is it? No don’t tell me...”
She closed her eyes, held her hands to her temples.
“A fella!” Her eyes snapped open. “I decree it must be a fella! Allie, what have you been doing?”
So Allison told as much as she could manage to share, and Jess listened to her woes with careful attention, before offering her own unique perspective.
“Right, let me get this straight. You broke up with Mr Perfect because he turned out to be a bit of a dick - lying and cheating and stuff - and his family are mostly psychos. But he was sorry and all that, and he’s cute and rich, so it’s a bit of a toss up. So you get yourself all in a worry about it.”
Allison opened her mouth, but was pre-emptively silenced by a swift ‘Don’t interrupt the Capitano!’ before Jess continued:
“And then when you - for once, in your dull, sensible, spontaneity-challenged life - do something impulsive and sleep with Mr Tall, Dark and Convenient, cause you needed some TLC, he goes all old fashioned on you, and decides that somehow it was the start of something special, and gets all huffy.”
Tilting her head, a frown marring her clear forehead as she twirled a stray golden lock, Jess studied her.
“Now what I don’t get is why you think that somehow this means your life is over and you’re doomed to badness. Allie, we’re twenty two years old! We’re supposed to make mistakes and shag a few dud ones - plus a lot of gorgeous ones with zero brain cells, just cause they’re gorgeous - and generally just have fun. You remember fun, right?”
Jess had a very unfortunate way of putting her finger on the sore spot. Allison tried not to pout.
“I thought you got fired because you had so much ‘fun’ on the job.”
“And look at me! Am I moaning? No, not me. Because it was worth it and I’d do it again.”
Allison was slightly lost for words.
“Well when you put it like that...”
”Allie darling, you always took everything far too seriously. Like I just said: We’re young, we’re gorgeous-”
“You are gorgeous,” Allison amended, and Jess laughed.
“Hey now girl friend, don’t put yourself down. You’ve got assets! Hell, you’re down in the dumps because you’ve got two guys chasing you, and you can’t choose! You’re spoiled, that’s what you are. And anyway, to get back to my point: we’re young and we’re supposed to have fun. So that’s my new mission: To make sure you have fun!”
Jess was very thorough. She swiftly found every bar and club worth going to within the Manchester city area, and declared they had to try each one several times to find out which one was best. She made Allison dress up and drink and dance and flirt, the two of them invariably ending up in ridiculous situations at 2 o’clock in the morning, involving guys in a gorilla suit, or handsome police officers, or a gaggle of drunk admirers that had attached themselves like limpets... ‘The Capitano’ had quite a talent.
Now and again Allison even found herself making out with some of the tag-alongs, although it was mostly to stop them from talking. It would seem that every boy in the whole of Manchester was deathly dull and unable to hold a conversation that could keep her interested for more than a minute. At least the ‘fun loving’ ones...
She missed Andrew. Missed the easy banter they’d had, and the heated discussions, and cursed herself repeatedly for ruining a good friendship. Plus Troy and Toby were unhappy with her about the whole thing.
But Jess never allowed her to dwell on anything for too long, filling up the days with proper girl-y bonding time, catching up on where their lives had led them, and comparing notes on travelling the world.
Still, after a month of ‘fun’ Allison began to feel distinctly... bored. Jess had many good qualities, but she did not posses Allison’s ambition or impatience. So when Professor Trinder sent her an invitation for a Symposium in Cardiff at the start of August she jumped at the chance to do something other than ‘enjoy’ herself.
Jess thought she was mad (‘The average age will be, like, 70!’) but Allison had long since stopped trying to explain the unparalleled thrill of proper, pure science, and how it cut across any barriers. (Well, most barriers. And if there were any sexist old idiots she was more than brilliant enough to hold her own.)
Besides Harvard was beckoning on the horizon... Whatever the future held, she wanted that Doctorate, that much she knew.
As she drove down to Wales she couldn’t help musing on The Choice and her own indecision. It had been close to a year since Alex had told her the truth about himself, and she was no closer to a decision. Yet how could she choose? Normal life on one hand, impossibleness on the other. She was hovering on the edge, unable to take either path, because it meant letting the other go.
With a sensation of her whole head going ‘Oh of course!’ and nearly smacking her own forehead (she was grateful for the auto-steering of the hired car, otherwise she would probably have swerved all over), it occurred to her that this must have been Alex’s dilemma also.
She had - repeatedly - wondered why he had delayed so much in telling her the truth. But this had to be why... Once he’d told, there was no going back. And as she found herself on the brink of a choice of her own, she found she could more easily forgive his hesitation.
And understanding was the first step towards acceptance, wasn’t it?
***
It was nearly night, the last strands of daylight vanishing behind the horizon, by the time she arrived in Cardiff. She found a large multi-story car park and locked the car, thinking that they could have chosen less murky lighting - it was a prime spot for muggings, and dreaded to think what the place was like in winter. Turning on the spot, trying to determine which was the way out and where she’d get a ticket for the car, she noted with irritation that the waist high partitions and the wide concrete pillars did not exactly make it easy to navigate.
But then there was a sudden strange and bright light, and she instinctively leapt behind the nearest pillar. As no explosion followed she peered out, and suddenly felt her heart in her mouth at what she saw.
There seemed to be a golden tear in mid air about 20 yards away, and through it several large, green aliens were stepping.
Chapter 32