Bridge Street

Chloe

I'm still trying to calm down after the runaway ticket incident when we emerge into daylight at Bridge Street.

Becky loops her arm through mine as we cross the road and enter the nearest pub. "I know it's easier said than done but try to relax," she says gently to me. "And probably stay away from Lola if possible." She adds, only half-joking.

I nod determinedly. "Trying my best," I promise. "On both those counts."

The pub is quite busy but we've managed to secure a corner table. There's not enough space for everyone to sit but in typical male fashion, the guys are mostly happy to stand. Luckily Lola is at the other side of the table, and I have Claire beside me, who I actually do get on well with.

She's also single so is entertaining me with stories of some terrible Tinder dates she's recently been on. I had - very half-heartedly, admittedly - thought about trying a dating app recently. But after hearing her terrifying tales, culminating in one where the guy took her to a fancy restaurant then ran out on the bill, leaving her to pay 200 quid for a two course dinner? I know for a fact I couldn't do it.

"I've decided dating apps aren't worth it, I'll just have to keep shagging guys I work with," Claire concludes. Then she laughs. "I might have to move job though as I've ran out of viable candidates in my company."

That's the problem, I think to myself. If I don't want to do dating apps, and I don't want to get involved with colleagues (in fact, the only guy I work with is due to retire next year so he's a tad old for me), how the hell do you meet someone? As I've already proven from my pigeon anecdote (Claire howled when I told her that one) I'm no good at being just randomly chatted up in a pub either.

A cheer erupts suddenly from the guys in our group and we both glance up to see why.

"Now, him." Claire jerks her head at the man who just just entered the pub and prompted the cheering. "He is not my type and he's a bit too young for my taste . . . But you've got to admit he's a good looking bastard."

I can't help the grimace that contorts my face at her comment as I watch him greet the other guys. Because there's no love lost between me and Liam McCall.

"He's . . . all right." I say carefully. Because objectively I can see Liam is handsome. But unfortunately his personality ruins it for me. It seems I'm the only one who doesn't get on with him though. Becky and Lola have already jumped up to delightedly hug him hello.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you two have some sort of love/hate relationship going on," Claire smiles.

"Ha, it's mere indifference as far as I'm concerned." I shrug her comments off with a laugh. But the guy does know how to push my buttons. I've known Liam for a long time, since Becky and Luke first started seeing each other, as he's Luke's best friend, and we've never seen eye to eye in that entire period. He generally manages to annoy me so much that he somehow works his way underneath my socially awkward armour; and I end up saying things I wouldn't say to anyone else. I stick up for myself. I insult him. I snap at him.

Even my own reaction to him has always made me uncomfortable and I'm not really sure why.

Liam's dark eyes meet mine suddenly and I freeze. They narrow slightly and then he tilts his head upwards briefly in a nod of greeting, the tiniest of smirks curling one edge of his mouth.

I twitch my lips back at him in an attempt at a smile before I look away, my cheeks flushing.

It occurs to me, out of nowhere, that this is the first time I've been around him while I've been single. This unsettles me even more for some reason.

I find myself thinking back to one of the first conversations we ever had. If you can call it that - it was pretty heated and probably more of an argument.

We had been talking, as a group, about films. Specifically films from the 80s. I'd mentioned I'd always really enjoyed "Ferris Bueller's Day Off". You know it, right? Carefree guy decides to skip school with his best friend and girlfriend, high jinks ensue, etc etc.

"But don't you think Ferris is a dick?" My about-to-be-nemesis had asked suddenly, leaning forward.

"W-what?" I hadn't expected that. No one had ever asked me this before.

"He's just - well, a bit of a sociopath," Liam shrugged, pushing a lock of black hair back off his forehead. "He treats his pal like shit, thinks the world revolves around him - hell, I even ended up feeling sorry for that teacher who'd been trying to catch him out in the end. He's a wee prick."

I'd argued my points, others had chimed in too, but Liam was firm on his opinion that Ferris was not a good person. I could not agree. He was being utterly ridiculous!

I'd went home and watched the film again and . . . I suddenly realised that Liam had a point. Ferris Bueller was a wee prick. I could never look at that movie the same way again.

Liam McCall had ruined one of my favourite movies. Therefore he was also a wee prick.

Most of our encounters have been of a similar ilk ever since. He's teased me for my choice of drink in pubs; my love of romance novels when the book I was reading fell out of my bag on one occasion; my cuisine preference when we were having a group dinner out and it was my turn to choose the restaurant. It feels like anything I like he hates, and vice versa. He even once slagged off my choice of favourite Backstreet Boy for fucks sake... I mean, what's up with A.J.?

Don't even ask me how that one came up in conversation . . . But this serves as a prime example of what happens whenever I end up in a "debate" with Liam. I end up leaving the discussion red-faced and frustrated and often confused about how we even got onto that subject in the first place.

He rattles me.

I realise I'm watching him again as he chats easily to Becky and Lola. Claire is right, I admit grudgingly to myself, he is good looking. But he's not my type. Or he's the polar opposite of Michael anyway. Michael is fair-haired and clean-shaven and kind of . . . Preppy, is the best word I can think of to describe him. That's the type of guy I've always preferred. Neat. Tidy. Unproblematic. Probably because my own brain is too twisted and unorganised to go for messy.

Liam is . . . Well, he's always been a bit too much, for me. His dark eyes are too knowing, his hair slightly too scruffy, his stubble too close to a beard.

He's completely ignored the theme too, I note disapprovingly as Lola flings a lei around his neck. He says something to Becky, with what looks like an apologetic look on his face and she shakes her head and pats his arm reassuringly.

Most of the guys are sporting Hawaiian type shirts in a nod to the theme - but oh no, Liam McCall is way too cool for that. Instead, he's wearing a pale grey Guns 'n' Roses t-shirt with a red and black checked shirt open over it, sleeves rolled up to reveal a selection of the colourful tattoos that trail down his right arm.

I've never really been a fan of tattoos. Or piercings, I think, my eyes drifting to the silver barbell cutting through his left eyebrow. I wonder if he's got anything else pierced. A nipple maybe? Both nipples? His cock? Wouldn't put anything past him.

Then I realise I shouldn't be thinking about Liam's cock and I take a deep shaky breath before gulping down the dreggs of my drink.
I need the loo.

On the way back I decide to grab a soft drink from the bar as it looks like most folk are only halfway through their drinks. I'm just passing over my money for my pint of Coke when I realise Liam is leaning against the bar next to me.

"A soft drink already?" He laughs, his pierced eyebrow shooting upwards. "You're only two pubs in."

See? His first words to me today and he's on the wind-up immediately.

"Nice to see you again too, Liam," I say sarcastically, reluctantly turning to face him. I was determined not to rise to the bait but I can already feel myself up for the challenge. "Did you get confused and think the theme for today was lumberjack? Or failed rock star maybe?"

A shadow passes briefly over his face, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. He takes a sip of his drink which I'm going to guess is a JD and Coke. "I actually did have something to wear but I was running late and didn't have time to go back to mine," he replies after a moment.

I'm assuming that means he didn't wake up in his own bed this morning. I'm not really sure about Liam's private life but he's never had an other half with him any time I've encountered him so I've came to the conclusion that he probably is a commitmentphobe who is partial to a one night stand. Judgemental? When it comes to Liam, I most definitely am.

"I'm fascinated that you think I look like a failed rock star though," he continues. "Do you have a back story for my character?" He's always been rather soft-spoken; husky voiced with an Irish lilt - Becky told me his family moved to Glasgow from Galway when he was eleven or twelve. I like his voice, despite myself - I sometimes think this might what be throws me off sometimes during our many arguments.

"You should probably make up your own back story,' I reply snarkily. "Mine would likely have you lying in a pool of your own vomit."

"Ouch." He winces. Sips at his drink again. " I fear my own version would probably end the same way though."

"So you wouldn't change your backstory to something a tad more . . . heroic?" I challenge.

Liam runs a hand over his almost-beard, that dark look drifting across his features once more. "I'm no hero," he shrugs after a brief pause. Then he waves over at Luke and straightens up. "I'm sure I'll talk to you later," he adds, and flashes me a brief cheeky grin before he walks away.

I slump back into the seat next to Claire. As we return to our conversation it occurs to me that of all the people I know in this pub right now, there's only four I don't struggle to talk to.

Claire, Becky, Luke and - whether I like it or not - Liam.

And that, I realise, is quite the revelation to kick off this subcrawl with.

So what do we think of Liam?

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