“Yeah, I’d fallen in a lake.”
“Right, caption: Nate got a little damp today – lent him my oversized jumper to keep warm, but this calls for hot chocolate!” Tariq raises an eyebrow. “I mean, that certainly sounds—”
“Jack does this thing sometimes where he—”
“Acts like he’s your boyfriend?”
“I mean, no, but it’s the type of thing he—”
“Sounds caring. Sounds romantic.”
“Yeah, but it’s Jack, Tariq! He messes about, doesn’t he? He makes me say ‘I love you’ whenever I leave the room.”
Tariq laughs. “Am I supposed to think that’s normal?”
“It’s in case one of us dies!”
He stops laughing. “Wow. OK. That’s … yeah.”
I sip my coffee. “Just Jack, that’s all. What else? Anything else?”
Tariq purses his lips and scrolls through a bit more. “I mean, OK, he calls you ‘hot’ in the one with your top off…”
“Clearly a joke. Clearly sarcasm.” I glance at the pic. “Dammit, I told him not to post that one.”
“To be fair, it’s not bad, Nate. You’ve almost got abs.”
“It’s just the shadows. Next.”
“Ah!” Tariq says, stopping scrolling and smiling. “Yeah.”
I raise my eyebrows.
He hands me the phone. It’s a picture I genuinely didn’t know he was taking, just me, in the tent at the festival when it was raining, taken slightly in profile, and I’m just … smiling. I admit, it is a nice picture, and where I’m concerned, that’s no mean feat. It’s an accidentally really nice photo, so fine. I’ve no issue with it. And the caption reads: Love it when he smiles. I can see why Tariq might think this was suspicious, but we’re just mates, and he just doesn’t understand the level of our banter.
“Tariq, this whole Instagram thing, the sole purpose was to piss off Dylan, and to a certain extent, you. All the pictures, the captions, they’re all carefully thought out to present a version of our summer which … hasn’t really been how it maybe looks.”
Tariq frowns. “Has your summer been bad, then?”
I open my mouth to say, “Well, yeah,” but stop, because, actually, no, it hasn’t been bad. It’s been… We’ve laughed … a lot, we’ve seen places and done things, we’ve talked … we’ve buried differences and maybe reconnected a bit. And me, I’ve seen what friendship can look like, and specifically, how with Jack and Elliot, I don’t need to hide, or be afraid, and that with them, I feel … stronger. Better for having them by my side. We haven’t been to a crazy expensive gig, or a big show, and we’re not off on the holiday of a lifetime, but actually, I think what we have done, the journey we’ve been on, is a million times better.
A smile spreads across my face. “No, Tariq, summer has been amazing.”
He nods.
“You probably need to catch your flight,” I continue. “Let’s go.”
“OK,” Tariq says. “But, Nate? I am sorry. Just to reiterate that. And also, one thing that will never change – we’ll always be each other’s first kiss.”
“Actually, Tariq, I’m sorry, but you weren’t my first kiss.”
And I grin, then we walk out of the coffee shop, knowing that he’s got a million questions and that I’m not gonna answer any of them.
I stroll back into the check-in hall feeling lighter and happier than I’ve felt in a long time, so much so that I don’t even really find it that annoying when Dylan strides up to us, totally ignores me, and goes straight for Tariq, saying, “Everything OK?” like I might have upset him, and that Tariq needs Dylan’s protection against big bad me.
Tariq nods and smiles. “Yeah, good.”
“Where’s Jack?” I ask.
Dylan shrugs. “Dunno. We talked and he went off.” He turns back to Tariq. “We gotta go.”
“What do you mean, ‘he went off’?” I ask.
Dylan grimaces in irritation. “He went off! Walked off, what else do you want me to say? I’m not his keeper!”
“Well, where was he going?”
Dylan stares at me a moment. “Er, we’re at an airport so take your pick from literally hundreds of destinations! Tariq? Come on.”
I blow out a breath. Dylan is such a prick. I don’t know what Jack ever saw in him. Except Dylan’s pretty, of course, so I guess there’s that. Pretty people get away with being utter shits, and no one seems to care.
Anyway, Tariq and Dylan head off to security, and I’m left just standing in the middle of check-in, thinking I should stay there because maybe Jack’s gone to the toilet, or to get a drink, and will be back soon. But when he doesn’t show after ten minutes, I text him. And then, after another couple of minutes, I text again. And then I actually call, which is when you know it’s serious.
It goes straight to voicemail.
Something’s not right. I felt it wasn’t right in the way Dylan told me that Jack “went off” but now I know it. I do a three-sixty turn, the airport and people swimming around me, but there’s no sign of him. I call Elliot, but Elliot is getting a back rub at some walk-in massage stand and Jack isn’t with him. I tell Elliot to get himself over to me, and he’s there in about five minutes, but there’s still no sign of Jack.
“We could ask if they can do one of those lost child announcements over the tannoy system,” Elliot suggests.
It’s a good idea, and there’s a big part of me that hopes we’ll rock up at the lost child centre, and Jack will be sitting on one of the chairs with a balloon and a lollipop, waiting for us. But he’s not, and he’s still not there after about five announcements made over the whole airport.
“Could he have headed back to the Airbnb?” Elliot says. “Maybe he was upset after talking to Dylan, and wanted to be alone for a bit?”
It’s possible. I message him and leave a voicemail saying we’re heading back to the house, and to meet us there, and to call as soon as he picks this up. But
