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‘Not particularly. He was a smartass, and not in a cute way.’
He pushes his sleeves up his arms and asks, ‘What’s the cute way?’
‘My way, obviously.’ We hit the riverside pathway. ‘I’m extremely cute and sweet, as you are well aware.’
He raises his eyebrows but has the sense to keep quiet. In a rare few moments of silence, we meander along the river.
As the days get longer and the sky gets bluer, the city smoulders with pure magic. The unparalleled joy on the first day you don’t have to wear a jacket. How the atmosphere when England wins a match could set the world on fire. The way people spill out of pubs after work like liquid, chatting and laughing and pooling in puddles along the pavements.
‘Shit, London in the summer is something else,’ Finn says at last. ‘I feel like I was sold a lie. I was expecting grey sky and rain, and instead we get this?’
We’ve definitely had uncharacteristically good weather over the past few months; more iced coffees made than hot drinks, sunglasses required more often than my umbrella. It’s probably because of global warming. Still, when Finn turns to me, glowing in the sun like he was born from it, I wonder if it could be something else.
I clear my throat to say, ‘If Paris is the City of Love, London is the City of Unreliable Weather.’
Finn purses his lips as he thinks. ‘I prefer City of Pigeons With Mangled Feet.’
‘City of Declaring Your Allegiance to North, South, East or West and Sticking to it Forevermore.’
‘City of Temperatures That Get So High on the Central Line, They Border on a Human Rights Violation.’
‘The City of Standing on the Right of all Escalators and Never Ever on the Left, or So Help Me God.’
Just as our laughter merges into one homogenous sound, Inotice we’re walking perfectly in sync too, so I intentionally slow my steps to get out of it.
‘Paris isn’t the City of Love, though,’ he says quietly. He chuckles at my raised eyebrows and adds, ‘I realise this makes me sound bitter because of what happened there with my last relationship. But even before that I felt this way.’
We step out of the way for someone to rollerblade past, and I say, ‘Okay. Make your case.’
‘I will die on this hill, just so we’re clear,’ he says. ‘It’s an incredible place, obviously, don’t get me wrong. And it has a ton of positive attributes. The history, the food, the art—’
‘Finn, Paris can’t hear you. You can talk shit about it if you want. I won’t tell.’
He barks out a laugh that brings a smile to my own face, and for once I let it sit there.
‘Okay, okay. Basically, if Paris is really the City of Love, it’s like, the Hallmark movie version. Does that make sense?’
‘I’ve never been,’ I admit, aware that the train takes less than three hours from London, that flying takes half of that. ‘But I don’t think it’d be on my list even if I were someone who liked to travel. Its reputation for being the place couples hang out would probably deter me. Not really my thing.’
‘Well, exactly. But other French cities are more romantic anyway. Friendlier, more beautiful, just as much culture.’ I stumble over my own feet, not looking where I’m going, and Finn eyes me warily, like he’s not sure if I’m capable of being a functioning human. Which is fair, honestly. ‘I liked Paris well enough, but the whole world seems to pretend it’s this perfect picturesque city when in reality it’s actually kind of dirty.’
‘So do you think London should be the real bearer of the nickname?’
He’s quiet for a few seconds as he mulls it over. ‘You can’t justdubsomewhere the City of Love. It has to earn it. So yeah, maybe London could be, in time.’ Those liquid gold eyes settle on me. ‘It doesn’t rely on appearances. It’s romantic in a way that’s not so obvious.’
‘It’s fast-paced and loud,’ I say. Right on cue, a police car passes, siren blaring.
‘Don’t people want a love like that? Something exciting and unapologetic?’
‘Some people do.’ I think harder, wondering how he’ll spin the next thing I suggest. ‘People here can be guarded. They aren’t always warm.’
‘Sure, but it’s not a bad thing to guard yourself.’ He scratches his jaw and upon seeing his profile; messy curls, strong nose, I feel like I’m walking alongside a living version of one of those ancient statues at the British Museum. Which tracks, because his dad is Greek. Maybe he’s distantly related to one of the aforementioned hot statues. ‘I think this place is accepting. You can be who you want here. To me, that’sextremelyromantic.’
London’s the one place that I’ve felt a connection to, so I’m not sure why I’m trying to fight against Finn’s romantic notions on this. ‘Everyone knows London can chew you up and spit you out before you even realised it was hungry.’
‘But before it does, it’ll make you feel special. I think I’d take a few moments on top of the world, even if I knew it was only temporary, just to be able to say that I’d done it.’
We pass an elderly couple on a bench looking out at the river, their heads and hands together; two souls intertwined on the bank of the Thames.
