Page 6 of Forever, Maybe

As the mist cleared, she took in the details: the counter, glass-fronted cabinets, and tile flooring streaked with red-brown stains that she decided not to think about too hard.

“And you’ve brought me here why?”

He propped the umbrella against the counter and spun around, arms spread wide.

“Picture it. Six months from now. All the flooring ripped out. Dark tiles down instead, white walls wi’ up-lighting to warm the space up.

Wooden shelves all around packed with exotic things.

Fresh bread in baskets lined wi’ linen. A refrigerated unit stacked wi’ cheeses, olives, dips.

The Stuffed! sign on the wall there… Can you see it, Nell? ”

She couldn’t help but laugh, clapping her hands as his energy swept her along. “Yes, yes, I can!”

She re-examined her first impression of him. No sign of the nerves now. The practical guy with a sandwich van was an artist in his own right. His head painted pictures that didn’t yet exist the same way she did.

He led her through a narrow passageway to a decent-sized room at the back. “This,” he said, “was where they butchered the carcasses.”

The slightly sweet, slightly rotten smell in the air confirmed it.

“This’ll do for an office and a small bathroom,” he added matter-of-factly.

Nell shivered. Her damp clothes clung to her like a second skin, and she could swear the smell was seeping into them.

“And here I was thinking romance was dead,” she teased, pulling her jacket tighter.

“Wait a sec,” Danny told her, disappearing into the main shop once more and returned wheeling a Calor Gas cabinet heater, the Febreze bottle, a kettle and a blue plastic bag.

He pressed down the pilot ignition and the heater sparked into life.

All four bars radiated instant intense heat, and she held her hands out, feeling the warmth spread up her arms.

“Tea?” he asked, plugging the kettle in. “And I’ve got sandwiches and crisps. Cans of cider too.”

The date was unlike anything Nell had ever been on before. And for that reason, she was enjoying herself a great deal.

“Cider, please. And a packet of crisps. Only if you share them with me.” Less calories that way.

There were no chairs, so Danny shrugged off his coat, tossed it onto a pile of old sacking, and sat down with his back against the wall.

He patted the space beside him, and she joined him.

One cider down, and somehow it felt completely natural to shift closer.

She slid into the space between his knees, leaning back against him.

His arm rested along her shoulder and her head nestled against it.

The warmth of him was steadying, comforting, in a way she hadn’t expected as their conversation flowed.

Why did you move to Glasgow? Do you like Scotland? Do you have brothers or sisters? What’s your favourite film, favourite band, favourite singer? If you were a sandwich, what kind would you be?

“That’s a ridiculous question!” Nell laughed, taking another swig from her second can of cider.

“Is it, though?” he teased, his voice soft, the faint scent of his lemony aftershave mingling with the Febreze. “You can tell a lot about a person from the kind o’ sandwich they think they are.”

Her clothes had dried. A gentle heat spread through her. Not just from the cider but from Daniel’s proximity, the casual way his arm brushed hers and his steady presence. She felt lighter, more at ease than she had in weeks.

“Fine, then. What about you? What kind of sandwich would you be?” she shot back, tilting her head to catch his reaction.

He grinned, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Something spicy. Chicken wi’ jalapenos, mebbe.”

“Predictable,” she said, giggling.

“Better than egg mayo,” he countered, pulling a face.

“I wasn’t going to say that! No one likes egg mayonnaise sandwiches, never mind wanting to be one,” Nell shot back. “I’d be something exciting. Like ham, corned beef, and beetroot, topped with Branston pickle, smoked cheese, and cucumber.”

Danny recoiled theatrically. “Nobody likes that!”

She jabbed her elbow into his thigh, making him yelp.

“I do—or I would, if I ever tried it!” she declared, lifting her chin as if daring him to argue further.

He shrugged and snapped open a plastic sandwich carton, peeling back the film with a satisfying crack . He held half a sandwich in front of her mouth, his eyes twinkling.

“Fancy a bite?” he teased.

Nell rolled her eyes but obliged, the mix of flavours immediately hitting her taste buds. She chewed thoughtfully, then narrowed her eyes at him. “This isn’t chicken with jalapenos, is it?”

She felt rather than saw him shake his head behind her. “Smoked salmon and cream cheese. You’re English and posh, so I thought I should bring something quality. Made them myself. This morning.”

She dug an elbow into his thigh again, more gently this time.

When he fed her the entire sandwich, she wondered at the absence of the guilt that normally accompanied eating.

The silencing of that nagging, whining inner voice was like the stopping of a rotary hammer that had been digging into the ground outside for so long, she’d grown accustomed to it.

More comfortable in the role of questioner than interviewee, Nell doubled down when it was her turn to ask things, while Danny responded with an easy confidence, never dominating the conversation the way so many of her fellow students did.

He talked about his Uncle Shane, who’d lent him the money to buy the van and secure the lease on the shop. “But I’ll pay it back,” he added firmly. “Every penny. Soon as I can.”

“You’re very driven,” she remarked, tilting her head curiously. “Why’s that?”

He hesitated, swallowing hard before glancing away. “It’s… my dad. He couldn’t work for a while when I was a wee boy. Money was tight—no new clothes, no holidays. We ate a lot o’ beans on toast.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but she caught the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. Clearly, it wasn’t something he liked dwelling on, because he pivoted quickly. “You said people would flock to a shop if I had one.”

He cracked open another can of cider, the fizzing sound sharp in the quiet. Nell placed her own can on the floor, a flicker of caution surfacing. If she kept drinking, they might end up having sex for the first time right here on the grimy floor of a former butcher’s shop.

“Oh, they will!” she said, catching the faint trace of doubt in his remark.

“In their hundreds of thousands! But this won’t be your only shop, oh no.

You’ll open a whole chain in Glasgow. Then Edinburgh.

Maybe even London! You’ll buy a fleet of vans to tour the country in the summer, selling overpriced sandwiches to boozed-up students and festival-goers. ”

He raised an eyebrow, but she pressed on, her voice growing more animated.

“In the future, journalists will write glowing profiles about you. They’ll call you The Sandwich King of Glasgow .

You’ll run business mentoring programmes for budding entrepreneurs, giving inspirational talks to packed auditoriums.”

“Is that right?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the back of her neck, his nose grazing through her hair to find her skin. A shiver rippled down her spine, and her back arched instinctively.

“That’s a mighty vision you’ve got for me,” he said, his voice low and amused.

“Mmm-hmm, but I’m ninety per cent confident it’ll happen,” she replied, smiling as the warmth of his breath lingered against her skin.

“Not one hundred per cent?”

“You should always leave ten per cent for the unexpected,” she said lightly.

He shifted his hands off his knees. As one hand began a slow descent, his fingertips brushed her throat.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispered.

She could feel him stiffening behind her and she pushed herself back into his crotch. His breathing quickened. “Er… I dunno if—”

She turned around. His jaw hung open, and his eyes drank her in.

This close, she made out the golden flecks in his irises, the stray dark hairs between his brows and the light sheen of sweat gathered on his upper lip.

She reached out a hand, stroking the side of his face and apologising when he flinched. Her hands were nearly always ice-cold.

The moment caught her up, tornado-like. By now, she’d adjusted to the smell. Who cared if she was in a butcher’s shop, and this was where they ended up having sex for the first time?

She leaned forward, kissing first his nose and then settling on his mouth. Soft, supple lips pressed against hers, igniting every nerve ending in her body. His arm curled around her, drawing her into his embrace. That first kiss had been stand-out but had simply been a dress rehearsal for this one.

He pulled back, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “Nell, I’m… I’m a virgin.”

For a fleeting second, Darren Hardy’s ghost flickered in her mind. She shoved him down, letting the memory sink into the fathoms of her subconscious where it belonged. After a moment’s pause, the bubbles of discomfort dispersed.

“And I’ve only been with two other guys, so that doesn’t matter,” she said softly, kissing the tip of his nose to drive the point home. “Honestly.”

A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Er… my last girlfriend liked oral. We did that instead so she wouldn’t go to hell. Y’know, like the nuns telt her she would for having sex before marriage. So… I’m no’ bad at that.”

She blinked. Wow, he was direct. Not in a bragging way, just… matter-of-fact. It was oddly endearing. She reached for the zip of his jeans, her eyes fixed on his. “Is that what you want? A blow-job?”

His head jerked in a frantic shake. “No! I meant I’d do you . So you’re no’ disappointed.”

Her heart gave a little squeeze. He was so earnest, it was impossible not to smile. She pecked him on the nose again, her fingers toying with his zip. “The thing about sex, Danny,” she murmured, her voice light but warm, “is that everyone’s got to start somewhere.”

He shuddered as she gripped his cock, which had sprung out of his jeans. Her bag was within reach, so she grasped the handle, pulling it towards her. As the local health board lived in fear of the Aids epidemic, the student union distributed free condoms.

The union, delightfully inventive around sex education on behalf of the young people in their care, arranged a fun event one night where two enlightened nurses taught male and female students a trick that they claimed would take them far in life.

Nell ripped the foil off a condom that billed itself as ultra-thin and placed it in her mouth, opened her lips and positioned her tongue behind the latex.

Danny’s eyes popped out on stalks.

“Lie back,” she commanded him, her voice muffled. “And think of England.”