Page 5 of Forever, Maybe

Chapter three

Nell, shivering and miserable, stood in the shelter of the grand Victoria red-stone entrance to the Kelvingrove Museum, waiting for Daniel and wondering how much longer she gave him before giving up.

He had arranged the outing without taking Glasgow’s unpredictable weather into account.

The sun could shine in the morning. By the afternoon, the rain might bounce off the pavements as it was doing today.

Her fellow students, holed up in the warm, cosy halls, told her she was mad to venture out in it.

“Just don’t turn up,” one said. “If you feel that bad about it, you can apologise next week when he’s back here in his sandwich van.”

Nell’s scrupulously polite upbringing forbade her from brushing him off.

After all, the guy had given her a free sandwich, and the kiss they’d shared when he caught up with her outside her halls had been incredible.

In the short time it had taken him to chase after her, something had shifted, and her veins fizzed with an energy she hadn’t felt in years. Not since… well, best not to go there.

What appealed most, though, was Daniel himself. His stumbling yet refreshingly straightforward approach was a stark contrast to the pretentious students she was used to, like her on-off boyfriend Colm, who loved to act like he was oh-so-sophisticated and wildly sexually experienced.

As her thoughts spiralled, a massive red-and-black golf umbrella appeared in the distance, its canopy angled against the breeze.

Beneath it, a pair of jean-clad legs propelled it forward.

She didn’t need a second glance to recognise the branding.

It was unmistakably Daniel’s Stuffed! sandwich van and shop colours.

He closed the umbrella and bolted up the stairs, two at a time, to join her.

Did he look anything like the guy that she remembered from Thursday night?

Yes and no. Same height, more than a foot taller than her, same dark hair.

He wore a black denim jacket slung over the same colour T-shirt and straight jeans, the hem of them skimming his ankle bones.

A bit spottier, though. And those shaggy eyebrows nearly met in the middle, the narrow space between his eyes adding to his brooding intensity.

But his mouth—that mouth—was all she’d been thinking about since Thursday.

She’d imagined it on her lips, her neck, trailing down her collarbone, teasing over her nipples, inching lower along her stomach—a slow, torturous build-up of pleasure.

Now it moved, shaping a tentative hello , followed by an apology for being late. He’d ended up having to work that morning after all.

Ha! The sun came out, metaphorically rather than literally. The gamble had paid off.

“Hello, Daniel, Dan, Danny.”

She was going to call him Danny from now on.

“I… I didnae think you would turn up.”

They both gazed upwards. Unrelenting rain, sheets of it slicing diagonally into the few pedestrians brave enough to venture out.

“Guess that’s the picnic out the window,” she replied, noticing he hadn’t bought any food with him, and unsure whether that was a relief or a disappointment.

The male of the species loved c-word foods.

Crisps, chips, cheese, chocolate—all packed with calories.

Nell preferred herself with as little flesh on her bones as she could get away with.

“No. Um, what about the café in there?” He pointed behind her to the museum, which served teas, coffees, soup and baked potatoes to people once they’d had their fill of culture. They’d be the youngest people in there by at least thirty years.

Nell shook her head. An open-topped double decker red bus pulled into the bus stop in front of the museum.

“Shall we do that? If we sit downstairs, it’ll be dry.”

Danny screwed his face up. “The tourist bus? But I’m… aye, alright then. S’pose I’ve never done it.”

He opened the umbrella once more and they hastened towards the bus. Nell cursed her idiotic clothing and shoe choice, as rain-proof as toilet roll. The ballet pumps were soaked through already and the thin, lacey black cardigan clung to her arms. Goosebumps poked through it.

Danny insisted on paying the two six-pound fares, which made a nice change. Colm fully believed sexual equality meant women paid either their fair share or more.

The tour guide, his red jacket hanging open to accommodate a tummy that spilled forward like a friendly mascot, beamed at them. “Ah, love’s young dream, eh? C’mon aboard. Nae sitting up the back now—this is a family-friendly tour. We dinnae want youse canoodling up there.”

Nell giggled, the unmistakable Glasgow patter still one of her favourite things about her adopted city. Around them, families and small groups were settling into their seats. A woman in a jaunty yellow bucket hat glanced their way, her face breaking into an indulgent smile.

Danny shoogled into one of the double seats, leaving just enough space for her to slide in beside him. As she settled, he slung an arm casually along the back of the seat—at least, that’s what he probably intended. The rapid blinking and tightness in his jaw told a different story.

He was nervous as hell.

Grateful for the warmth, she sank back against his arm, pulling it around her shoulders. The tips of his fingers pressed into the skin below her collarbone, dry and warm.

Go on. Slip them down a bit. I won’t mind…

They remained firmly in place.

The bus lurched into motion, shuddering down the road as the driver wrestled it into the right gear.

“Welcome aboard, ladies and gentlemen!” the guide’s voice boomed through the crackling microphone.

“As you can see, it’s another fan-dabby-dozy day in Glasgow!

But here on our happy wee bus, the sun always shines.

And now we’re off doon Sauchiehall Street—its name comes fae the auld Scots words Sauchie hauch , meaning a low-lying meadow… ”

Nell leaned into Danny, who radiated warmth like a human hot water bottle. He flinched—a barely noticeable twitch—but when she started to pull away, he tightened his arm around her shoulders. His aftershave, sharp and lemony, was unmistakably Kouros. He’d doused himself in the stuff.

She slid her hand onto his thigh. It jerked under her touch, a reflex he couldn’t hide. Emboldened, she inched her fingers higher, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Danny clamped his hand over hers, his grip firm. “If you keep doing that, I’ll, y’know…” he whispered, his voice tight with panic. His face turned a vivid brick red, and he looked straight ahead, avoiding her gaze.

The tour guide, whose ears seemed to stretch like elastic, grinned in their direction.

“And now, ladies and gents, we find ourselves at Blythswood Square, built in the early 1800s. A notorious haunt, back in the day, for ladies of the night…” He paused, his grin widening.

“You’ll notice it’s conveniently close to Strathclyde Police headquarters.

Handy for the officers, eh? Either they were arresting the women or… indulging themselves.”

The bus trundled along, stopping at various landmarks, but the relentless downpour kept Nell and Danny on board while other passengers shuffled off to explore the Transport Museum, the cathedral and the university’s photogenic cloisters.

The guide kept up his tongue-in-cheek commentary, often making Nell and Daniel the butt of his jokes.

Daniel, to her relief, took it in stride, laughing along—a definite improvement over Colm, who could never handle being the punchline.

At one point, Danny shot back, joking that the guide’s patter was so dire, he doubted anyone ever tipped him.

The guide cackled and took the jab in good humour, firing off a few more quips at their expense.

As the bus approached its final stop in George Square, where other buses idled with only a handful of rain-dampened tourists queuing to board, Nell leaned in close to Danny, her breath warm against his ear.

“My halls are cosy and dry,” she murmured.

A flush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks. He hesitated for a beat, then met her gaze.

“Or… I could show you something.”

The guide, ever-alert, pounced with glee. “Oh, well, young Casanova! Finally getting your chance to prove yoursel’, eh?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I meant a building .”

The guide wasn’t letting it go. “So he says, hen! Watch those hands o’ his. Tell you what, the bus is heading to the university next. D’ye want us to drop you somewhere nearby?”

“Could you make it Clarence Drive?” Danny asked, sounding surer of himself once more. When the bus obliged two streets later, Nell followed him off, bemused.

He opened the umbrella, and she shot under it. Golf umbrellas were built for weather like this. Her pumps might be soaked through, but her top half was escaping the worst of it.

“What are we looking at?” she asked, and he took her hand, guiding her down the street, red sandstone buildings either side.

“This.”

They were outside a former shop. Metal shutters covered the windows and door and the sign hanging above it read Pacitti Jones Glasgow Lease for Sale. A banner across the words said ‘SOLD’ in bold, black letters.

Danny rummaged in his jeans pocket and a extracted a bunch of keys.

The first opened the padlocks attached to the shutters in front of the door.

He handed her the umbrella and heaved them up.

They rose, clanking nosily. He used another key for the glass-fronted door, which swung open, its hinges creaking in protest.

“Come in!” The grin split his face in two. He stepped aside to let her in, but as soon as she crossed the threshold, the smell hit her full force.

She clamped a hand over her nose. “What is that?”

“Aye, sorry! Place used to be a butcher’s,” Danny replied, waving a shiny, just-unwrapped bottle of Febreze in the air. He sprayed liberally, the cloying scent of “Meadow Fresh” doing battle with the lingering odour of… well, not-so-fresh.