Declan steps aside, his arm extending towards the inside of the brightly lit apartment. I nod, still forcing a weak smile, quietly thanking him as I start to walk inside. The door closes behind me, as I step into the small living room, and suddenly recognise the layout I hadn't seen for so many years.

 

A three seater, brown leather couch pushed up against the wall, with a small table beside it and a coffee table in front, a tv unit with a massive 60" sitting on top, and consoles the like of Nintendo, Playstation, Xbox, and even an old Sega resting in slots underneath. And in the far left corner, I see his guitar stand, mixed with electrics and acoustics, and a large amplifier. The memories click back, and I remember how Declan used to tell me he was in a band and that they were doing shows and planning a tour, and I silently wonder to myself if he's still doing those things, and holding onto that dream.

 

"Can I get you a drink?" Declan asks, coming out from behind me and pausing to look curiously at my face. His hand runs through his hair that falls back down and frames it with loose ends and layers, and since I'm coming to terms with being back in a place that I haven't been to in so long, I answer as politely as I can, "I'll just have a water."

 

"Water," he repeats, clicking his free hand towards me in a finger-gun motion, before turning on his heel and heading towards an archway, across from the guitars and the amps, where a light is switched on and a tap runs with water.

 

While I wait, I glance further around the small space of the living room, the small changes coming to light the more I stand and look around. Posters are hung of old 80's movies like The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off above the couch, and even one for Ghostbusters hanging alongside the archway where Declan had disappeared into. Then across, above his TV were four vinyl covers stuck to the wall, for bands I only barely recognised like Def Leppard, Mötley Crüe, Van Halen, and Aerosmith.

 

The TV unit was new, a shining, gloss black, as well as the PlayStation 4 and Xbox One sitting idle under what I assumed was a bigger TV as well. And while I'm questioning if this is the case, and if there was anything else around the apartment I hadn't seen before, Declan walks out, glass in hand, a shy smile on his face.

 

"Here you are," he says, handing it to me. His fingers brush mine as I take it, and the sudden touch of soft skin raises goose bumps on my arm. I take a polite sip, feeling heat rise on the back of my neck, unable to look at him as I pull the glass away from my mouth and rest it in my hands in front of me.

 

Declan walks away once he hands me the glass. He strides over to his couch, edging around the coffee table placed closely in front and lowers himself into the cushiony leather, a loud hiss of air puffing out from under the sudden weight. He looks at me, smile underneath the moustache of his beard, and gestures to the space beside him. "Take a seat, come on."

 

With that invitation, my feet unstick from the one place they've stayed since arriving, stepping over to the couch and inching myself around the coffee table like Declan did. I sit carefully, like the leather is thin glass and my weight could cause it to shatter underneath into a thousand pieces. My hand still clutches the glass of water I had been handed, and I notice that I'm holding onto it a little stronger than intended.

 

"It's lovely to see you again," Declan says, breaking a silence I hadn't noticed was lingering. The cushion of the couch hisses again, as my body settles into the comfortable, cushiony leather that cradles the weight of my tense frame.

 

"Yeah," I speak out, looking over at him. "You too."

 

Declan turns his body to look at me, pulling his left leg up to rest on the other. "And you look just as gorgeous as the last time I saw you."

 

A laugh escapes from my throat, though it comes out as the sound of half a cough instead, and the heat in my cheeks begin to make their way onto my face. I swallow hard before I reply, "Thanks."

 

I had almost forgotten how confident Declan was.

 

"You know, I was just thinking as I was sitting here," he describes, his gaze moving off me to stare into the distance. "About the last time I saw you, and I was showing you pictures of when I went to Universal Studios, and got the chance to pose with the DeLorean car…"

 

I remembered. It was at Micheal's, a day when I was stationed in Menswear as an extra shift I had to pick up. Declan walked in, looking for a couple of new pairs of chinos, and we hit it off like there was never any years between the last time I saw him until that moment. He even added me on Facebook, telling me that if I ever needed someone, he was there, and that I should reach out to him. I didn't think I'd ever have to take him up on his offer, but being back in his apartment, after so many years, it's almost the relief I needed.

 

"…and I was just sitting here, about to watch the movie, and the moment I saw the car on the screen I remembered your cute little face." His head is resting on his hand, leaning on the arm of the couch, his fingers tangled in the mess of his hair. I can feel myself blushing again, feeling warm under the spell of his kind words, but I can't find the courage to speak up and become a parrot that says 'thanks' again.

 

"So, I figured," he begins, brown eyes looking right at me, as he lets his hands fall into his lap to fold over each other. "I'd swing you a text and see how you were…I honestly didn't expect you to come over, but I'm glad you did."

 

I smile, taking in a deep breath through my nose as I reply. "Yeah, well…" My shoulders shrug as I try to find the right words to respond. "…I wasn't doing anything… and honestly, being around someone is better than being by yourself when you don't have many plans."

 

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," he says, his arm going back to resting on the armrest, his head back on the palm of his hand. "Like, since me and Amy broke up, it's been a bit like that…like, it was eight months ago, I'm pretty much over it now, but sometimes if I'm by myself I'll sit, and I'll think, and I'll just remember those nights where I wasn't so…alone. You know what I mean?"

 

I hesitate to agree. I knew that feeling all too well, the emptiness of missing something that was once always beside you. The quiet of a hallway or living room, when you used to walk into so much noise and laugher. The cold air replacing the warm comfort of skin on skin contact, and staring into space when you used to stare at one another. Declan's eyes trail off into the distance again.

 

"And I don't think it's that I miss her, I think it's just that I miss her company. I miss having someone here, and I miss having that connection." He speaks, and it's hitting all the right chords for someone who can agree and relate on the situation. Someone who desperately wishes to go back in time and fix every wrong thing that's happened. But also someone who's too afraid to speak up about the hurt and suffering they endured, because if it wasn't for them, they wouldn't be in another guy's apartment, at 8:30 at night, wishing these things to be true. I take a sip of water, from the same glass that sits in my lap.

 

"But anyway," he continues, his eyes coming back to me. "How have you been? How's life?"

 

I take in a deep breath, bringing myself back to the present, locking away the emotions behind my eyes and shaking out the memories like they were only a dream in a fantasy universe. Looking back at Declan's round face, that hold a mild sadness within his eyes, I force a weak smile.

 

I say, "There's isn't much to tell. Like I mentioned, I've just been working, watching YouTube, trying not to succumb to the boring life of adulthood."

 

"Oh yeah," he replies. "I keep forgetting your like, what, 5 years younger than me?"

 

I scoff, looking away from his face. "Something like that."

 

"How old are you?" He asks quizzingly. And I look back to answer without missing a beat. "21."

 

"Oh," he responds, looking into the distance again. "Well, okay…6 years, that's not too bad…" His hand reaches up to scratch the back of his head. "For some reason I always thought you were older."

 

I laugh. "Well, you did always used to say I was very mature for my age."

 

"Yeah, I thought you were at least close to 20," he comments, looking back at me. "I mean, how was I supposed to know you were in high school?"

 

"Did the title of 'Work Experience' not advise you of that?" I cheekily reply.

 

"Hey, we used to get a lot of work experience people come through," he defends. His right forefinger points straight at me. "Sometimes three people at a time from three different institutions."

 

"Well then..." Was the only response I could offer, unsure of how to respond to his statement. I take a sip from the glass again.

 

"Anyway," he says, inhaling tensely. "I'm sorry to hear that you and your partner didn't work out."

 

I purse my lips. A slight inhale flows into my nose, and then I hold it in.

 

"It's fine," I manage to say, taking another sip, a longer one to pass a couple of seconds of silence I know I'll end up radiating. And when I take the glass away from my lips and I finally swallow the water that idles in my mouth for five more seconds, I say, "It's not like I can change anything."

 

"Yeah, but I know the feeling of how much it hurts," he says.

 

I don't doubt that he knows. The way he talks about his previous relationship was evidence enough to know that he still thought about her, and probably still asks himself why it happened, why it came to this, why it couldn't be any different. I look at him, into the big brown eyes on his round face, and he opens his mouth to speak again.

 

"I was gonna propose to Amy, you know," he says, breaking the eye contact to stare into space again. He takes in a deep breath. "I was gonna do it on that trip to the US. She was supposed to come with me. We were gonna go to Disneyland, and I wanted to be all cute and romantic and do it in front of Cinderella's castle. But then, yeah, I guess she didn't see us getting that far…"

 

I felt that sting again. Whether it was for guilt for feeling sorry for myself when my friend was clearly hurting more than I, or if it was because I could relate on a much more personal scale than he realises, than just a general 'break-up' that everyone seems to assume is the case.

 

I put my hand on his shoulder, and his eyes dart back to mine. I give him a small smile, letting him know that things would be okay, that the tides would turn and the flowers would still bloom and the sun would still rise, and it would all be alright, even if I didn't believe it myself.

 

And his free hand reaches up, interlocking his fingers in mine. His eyes still bore into mine.

 

"Do you remember," he speaks, carefully, as his thumb rubs the back of my hand. "When I asked you out for drinks, the last time we met?"

 

I nod.

 

"If the circumstances were different, like say you weren't in a relationship at the time, would you have accepted?"

 

I've thought of this possibility before. Declan, a cute guy, an old friend, saying hello after years of no contact, no communication, asking me for drinks, where we would go and have a couple. Maybe even get a meal, and drink and chat and see where the night would take us, that would eventually lead us back to one another's beds, and it would be a welcome change in a time where I needed change the most. And I suppose that could be the start of something beautiful, a new door opening to bigger and better possibilities, and more happiness than sadness and forgetting the memories of the past that reminded us that life sometimes sucks and we can't help it, even when we try our absolute hardest to change that.

 

I nodded.

 

A small smile makes it's way onto his face, his eyes glitter like stars. His hand is still intertwined with mine.

 

"Well maybe," he says, taking in another tense breath. "We could make up for lost time…"

 

His smile is different this time, one I've recognised on the faces I've seen over the past few months, where their eyes light up with hope, and they look you up and down like they can't wait to see how you look without the shirt your wearing, or on top of them while you remove your bra and show them a part of yourself you wouldn't show to just anyone. And I'd be lying if I said that the idea of coming here wasn't to hopefully hook up with Declan. To undress in front of him and rub my body against his, and to tick off an easy target to an ever-growing list and be one step closer to being done with my personal goal.

 

But there's a small issue holding us both back. One that I don't think we can look past, and I swallow hard as I shift in my space and feel the tampon slightly twist.

 

"I can't," I say, and I see the sparkle in his eyes dim. "It's actually my time of the month."

 

The sparkle turns into relief. The breath Declan had been holding slips through his nose, and the grip on my hand loosens.

 

"Sorry," is the next word to come out of my mouth, and Declan responds with a small laugh, his hand slipping away from mine as his body leans forward.

 

"No, no, don't be sorry," his voice smiles, cheeriness masking over the disappointment of his tone. "You can't help that. Don't apologise."

 

He leans towards the coffee table and takes the TV remote in his hands, clicking a button that makes the TV before us glow with the word PANASONIC. And I sit beside him, a sigh escaping through my nose, as the heat creeps up onto my cheeks and my chest starts to feel heavy, and I feel the sudden urge to stand up and leave as all the signs of anxiety and guilt begin to set in.

 

"Besides," he says, clicking a few buttons on the remote. "We can always reschedule, and…"

 

His eyes dart back to mine, the glitter from before has reappeared. "Maybe I could take you out to dinner?"

 

I don't know if it's the offer that helps me feel a little more calm, or the way he's staring at me with wide, hopeful eyes, but it's a step in the right direction to make things happen, and the corners of my mouth twitch up and I give Declan a slight nod. "That would be nice."

 

He's cheeks rise as his mouth forms into a grin. "Cool." And then he turns his attention back to the TV. The blue title screen of the PlayStation 4 comes on.

 

"Well, no reason we can't hang out in the meantime." he comments. "What do you say to watching the first Back to the Future with me?"

 

I nod in agreement. "Sure, sounds good."

 

And he boots up the DVD on the screen, the DeLorean displayed in all it's glory with the DVD options, and Declan stands up, talking of drinks and snacks as he heads back through the archway and disappears into the kitchen again.

 

Meanwhile, I sit tight, resting back into the couch as I stare at the TV screen, folding my arms over one another. I let my head fall back into the back cushion of the couches' design, staring at the white ceiling, noticing slight water damage in odd spots, but that's the furthest from my mind.

 

With the option to sleep with Declan in my palm, it makes achieving my goal that much easier. His infatuation with me helps feel a little at ease, a little more calm in completing my task, and while he may not have any clue that the entire reason I came over was to cement the deal that we would one day sleep together, it seems that may be his idea with me as well. After all, why try and find someone when you have somebody who's so vocally and physically interested?

 

So while I may not know when we would get around to doing the deed, one thing is concrete in this situation: Declan will become a part of the list. That I'm sure of more than anything.