by Paige Toon
‘You’re going back to the UK?’ Agnes asks with surprise. ‘I thought you were going to be here for a bit longer? Lottie has the most amazing New Year’s Eve party. I can’t believe you’re going to miss—’
‘I’m coming back,’ I interrupt her.
‘When?’
‘I’m only going home for a week,’ I explain. ‘Then I’m coming back and I think I’m going to be attending school here.’
‘You are shitting me!’ she cries. ‘Which school? Please tell me it’s mine!’
I laugh at her reaction. ‘I hope so. Annie’s going to try to get me in, but I didn’t want to tell you until it was definite. Anyway, it’s not like we’ll be in the same class.’
‘Why not?’
‘You’re sixteen already. I don’t turn sixteen until January.’
My chest constricts painfully at the reminder that my birthday will also be the first anniversary of Mum’s death.
‘I got held back a year,’ Agnes explains. ‘I was the youngest in my year, and I didn’t exactly have the most ordinary childhood with my dad getting up to the things he got up to. I fell behind, so Mom made me repeat the year.’
‘No way! So we’ll be in the same class?’ I beam at her. That’s it, then. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d want to go to school here, but if I’ll be with Agnes it’s a done deal.
Down on the beach, Brett looks up and sees us. He’s standing with his wetsuit down to his waist, a towel draped round his neck. Agnes waves at him and he points towards his van, beckoning for us to join him.
She sighs dreamily as we get to our feet.
‘Over Miles, then?’ I ask her, as we walk carefully down the dune, trying not to let the sand seep over the top of our shoes.
‘Miles who?’ she replies, and maybe it’s bravado, but I don’t push it. I don’t want to break my promise to Jack by saying something I shouldn’t. I’m just glad she’s got someone to take her mind off him.
‘I give up,’ she says, laughing and setting off downhill at a run. I do the same, mentally cursing the billions of grains that are now cushioning my trainers.
We reach the campervan slightly out of breath but laughing. Brett has somehow managed to get more or less dressed by the time we get there and he’s inside near the small fridge, boiling a kettle.
‘You guys want a cuppa?’ he asks.
‘Yes, please!’
The doors at the back of the van are wide open, providing a ledge for Agnes and me to sit on. One after the other, we take off our shoes and shake out the pesky sand.
‘What do you guys want to do for lunch?’ Brett asks, passing us both steaming mugs of tea. ‘We could head into town or go grab some stuff for a picnic and come back here?’
‘I vote picnic,’ Agnes says. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Me too,’ I agree.
Brett stares at the water. ‘Jack will be out there for a while yet. Do you want to wait here and I’ll duck to the shops?’
‘No way, you’ll come back with a load of crap,’ Agnes says. ‘I know you.’
‘You go with him,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’ll wait here and let Jack know where you’ve gone.’
‘OK, cool,’ Brett says.
He gets out a collapsible chair from underneath the bed and opens it up, facing the ocean.
‘Thanks,’ I say, sitting down and nestling my mug of tea in my hands.
‘See you in a bit,’ he says.
‘Hey, shouldn’t I keep Jack’s clothes or something?’ I ask with a frown.
‘Oh, yeah.’ He looks a bit bashful. ‘He would’ve killed me if I’d nicked off with his gear.’
Soon afterwards, I’m all alone. More alone physically, I realise, than I’ve been in a long time. No bodyguard, no family and no friends, well, apart from Jack out there in the ocean. His clothes are in a bundle on my lap and I can just make out the faint scent of his deodorant mingling with the ocean air.
There must be about twenty kitesurfers out there, but the other kites may as well be coloured black and white because Jack’s is the only one I’m drawn to.
I watch as he surfs up onto the beach and looks over at me, but he’s too far away for me to be able to see his expression. He’s probably wondering where the van is, so I stand up and wave at him. He waves back and bends down to take his feet out of the kiteboard.
He’s still wearing his wetsuit when he reaches me, his equipment tucked under his arm.
‘Agnes and Brett have gone to get some food for lunch,’ I call, as he approaches.
‘Cool.’ He nods and lays the board flat on the sand a few metres away. His black hair is dripping wet, seawater trailing in rivulets down the side of his face, drawing even more attention than normal to the angles of his cheekbones. He straightens up and unzips his wetsuit, his eyes meeting mine.
What was that I was saying about enjoying my own company? I have a strong feeling that I’m going to enjoy Jack’s more…
Chapter 30
Reaching behind me, I grab the towel from the back of the chair. Jack takes it from my hands and makes short work of drying himself off.
I feel nervous and jittery and I’m trying so hard not to look at his bare chest. He’s more muscular than I thought he’d be. He doesn’t seem like a guy who would work out. Maybe he does press-ups.
My brain chooses to show me a mental image of him doing just that, and I feel like a hot flush has overcome me, even though the wind is cold. I quickly come to my senses.
‘You must be freezing,’ I say, throwing him his dark-blue hoodie. He pulls it over his head, and I try to look away, really I do, but I can’t help catching a glimpse of his chest again before it’s covered up.
He steps out of his wetsuit and I stare steadfastly at the ocean as he dries the rest of himself off.
‘Do me a favour and hold the towel up while I change out of my swimming trunks,’ he says.
My eyes widen.
‘Well, unless you want me to strip off with everyone watching,’ he adds.
‘Of course. I mean, of course not. Sure.’ Flustered, I get to my feet and hold the towel up while he stands with his back to the nearest car, reaching for his boxers and his jeans from the car roof as and when he’s ready for them.
He’s wriggling around a lot, but I’m looking off to the side. Surely he must be done by now. Feeling his eyes on me, I turn to face him, meeting his blue-grey gaze straight on.
‘Are you done yet?’ I ask, discomforted by the closeness of our bodies.
‘Pretty much.’
From his hand movements, he’s buttoning up his jeans, but he hasn’t taken his eyes from mine, so I let the towel drop and have a millisecond of panic before I see that he is covered up.
His wet hair is falling down across his forehead and he grins, shoving it back. It must be so obvious I’m still affected by him.
‘No shoes?’ he asks.
‘Shit, sorry, no,’ I reply.
‘S’OK.’ He walks towards the chair. ‘Only one?’
‘I’m not doing very well, am I? You sit down. You must be knackered.’
He slumps into the chair and loudly exhales. ‘It’s hard work,’ he agrees.
I stand off to his side. ‘It looks like so much fun.’
‘It is.’ He grins up at me. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, his feet bare and still tanned.
‘Oh,’ he says, patting his pocket. I assume he’s going to pull out his fags, but he gets his phone out instead. ‘I keep meaning to check Twitter.’
Now I’m nervous for completely different reasons.
‘Stop pacing,’ he says after a while.
I look at him worriedly, but he’s grinning up at me.
‘They loved you.’
‘Did they?’ I stand behind him and bend down to read his phone over his shoulder.
I like their new singer
New singer sounded awesome!
New singer is hot!
My heart is in my throat as I read comment
after comment about me and the gig. The fans are raving about it.
‘There are quite a few here about you being Johnny’s daughter, but it’s all positive,’ Jack says, his thumb scrolling down the screen to show me. I lean in closer to read them and, after a moment, become aware of his proximity. His face is right beside mine and his hair smells like the ocean. I straighten up, my knees feeling a little weak.
‘Phew,’ I say, shifting on my feet.
‘You OK?’ he asks with a frown, glancing over his shoulder at me.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I return to stand in front of him so he doesn’t have to crane his neck. ‘I was worried about their reaction, that’s all.’
‘I knew they’d love you,’ he replies offhandedly.
‘Eve was so… Well, she was so cool,’ I say wryly, trying to concentrate.
He doesn’t comment.
‘What happened with you guys?’ I ask him out of the blue. ‘After I left? You broke up?’
He doesn’t speak for a moment, but then he shrugs. ‘I called it off.’
‘Did you? Why?’
‘It’s not like she was ever my girlfriend. Like I said, we just had a thing going. But I didn’t wanna get into that again with her.’
He leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on his knees. His face is lit by the sun, his eyes lighter than normal.
‘Why not?’ I hardly dare to ask.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?’ he asks suddenly, catching me off guard.
I shift on my feet again. ‘You didn’t even reply to my email,’ I say.
‘What email?’
I give him an unimpressed look.
‘What email?’ he persists. ‘I didn’t get an email from you.’
I’m confused. ‘I emailed you after I got back from LA.’
‘I didn’t get it,’ he replies with a frown. ‘But I did text you. At least now I know why you never called,’ he adds drily.
‘You never called me, either,’ I point out.
‘So who is this Tom guy? You haven’t told me anything about him.’
‘He’s someone I know from school,’ I reply, wondering why he’s waited until now to ask. ‘He’s in the year above me.’
‘Did you know him before the summer?’ he pries.
‘Yeah,’ I reply casually.
‘Were you—’
‘No,’ I cut him off. ‘No, we hadn’t been on a date or anything.’
He doesn’t comment at this, nor does he meet my eyes.
I sigh and shift the weight on my feet again.
‘Do you wanna sit back down?’ he asks flatly.
‘No, I’m OK.’
‘Come on,’ he says, patting his thigh. I hesitate. ‘I won’t bite,’ he promises, some of the spark returning to his eyes.
I don’t want him to be pissed off, so I hesitantly walk over to him and sit down on his right knee. His left leg jigs up and down and neither of us says anything for a little while, but I’m completely jumpy being this close to him. I have a sudden, agonising longing to turn and snuggle into his chest. I glance at him to see him calmly staring back at me.
‘Your hair’s still wet,’ I say on impulse, pushing the strands off his face. I allow my hand to do what it’s been wanting to do for weeks: slide to the back of his head and run up and down the shorter section. ‘I like your hair short like this.’
‘Does Tom have short hair?’ he shocks me by asking.
I quickly take my hand away and avert my gaze. ‘Yeah, he does, actually.’
God, what am I doing? I tense, about to force myself to my feet, but then his arms snake round me, keeping me in place.
‘Stay,’ he murmurs, pulling me back against him.
I’m still tense as my back rests against his chest. He puts his chin on my shoulder. ‘You’re so warm,’ he says sleepily.
‘So are you,’ I whisper. I really should get up and go, but I can’t seem to make my feet move.
‘Are you tired?’ he asks.
‘Mmm. Didn’t sleep much last night.’ My body does feel heavy.
‘I never sleep well after a gig,’ he tells me. ‘Too much adrenalin.’ He turns his head to look down the road. ‘What’s taking them so long?’
He’s not trying anything on, I tell myself. He’s just being friendly. Friendly and more than a little tactile. But that’s OK, isn’t it? We’re band members. We’re supposed to be close. I relax against him slightly and he breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly so my stomach follows the movement of his.
‘Do you think Miles’s friend was his boyfriend?’ I ask suddenly.
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Why won’t you tell me what happened with him? Surely you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t tell anyone else.’
He regards me coolly before nodding. ‘True,’ he concedes. ‘But it’s not my secret to tell.’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Did he come onto you or something?’
His eyes widen in alarm and then he scratches the top of his head with frustration.
‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ I ask, surprised.
‘What is it about you,’ he says wearily, ‘that has me spilling my guts out? Every time,’ he adds, shaking his head.
I purse my lips at him, half feeling bad for getting the truth out of him because, really, it isn’t any of my business, and half delighted because I’ve landed on the truth with my first guess.
‘You only confided in me in the summer because you thought you’d never see me again,’ I say with a knowing smile, remembering how he told me about his family and how messed up things had been between his mum and dad.
He doesn’t smile back at me. ‘Not true,’ he says finally. ‘I don’t know what it is.’
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ I press.
He shifts uncomfortably. ‘He was very, very drunk, and he tried to, you know.’
‘Kiss you?’
‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘He was totally wasted. And completely and utterly mortified the next day.’
‘Did you talk to him about it?’ I feel bad on Miles’s behalf. It’s excruciating enough coming onto someone who doesn’t fancy you, but when you’ve also been harbouring a secret like that…
‘Yeah. I woke him up the next morning – he’d crashed at mine – and had it out with him. Told him it was cool.’ He yawns, but I have a feeling he’s playing it down. He must have handled it incredibly well for Miles and him to still be friends – and bandmates. ‘Anyway, I swore to him I’d never tell a soul, so—’
‘I swear, too,’ I say solemnly.
As I stare into his eyes, it feels physically painful to tear myself away.
‘I might go for a walk along the beach,’ I say quietly. ‘If I stay here, I’ll fall asleep.’
‘Don’t go,’ he says. He brushes my hair back from my face, his touch making my skin spark, before resting his chin on my shoulder and tightening his arms round my waist.
The nervy, jittery feeling inside me intensifies tenfold. If Tom could see me now, he’d go absolutely mental, but still I can’t bring myself to move.
Jack begins to hum one of All Hype’s songs and I relax as I listen to him.
‘You should sing more,’ I say eventually.
‘I’m not that good,’ he replies in a low voice.
‘Yes, you are.’
He sighs. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do when you go back to England.’
‘I’m only going back for a week.’
He jolts, pushing me upright. ‘What? When?’
I fill him in. He looks so staggered by the news that I’ll be going to school with Agnes that I can’t help but laugh at his expression.
‘See, there you go again, getting all comfortable and telling me things because you think I’m going home soon, when here I am, planning on staying,’ I joke.
He doesn’t smile. He shakes his head, confused. ‘Are you OK with that? I thought you wanted to go home.’
He nods, looking thoughtful.
‘I miss Stu and Tom, obviously,’ I clarify, ‘but well, hopefully they’ll come to visit soon.’
He doesn’t look very happy about this revelation. ‘Do you really think you can make a long-distance relationship work?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. But we can try.’
He really doesn’t look happy.
‘What are you looking like that for?’ I chide, feeling bold. ‘It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen between us again.’
He glares at me.
‘What?’ I’m taken aback by his expression. ‘You promised Brandon and Miles,’ I explain.
His expression instantly softens and he laughs under his breath and shakes his head. ‘Oh. That,’ he says significantly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Brett’s campervan returning. ‘Here they are,’ I say, standing up, but not before I see Agnes’s look of surprise. I walk over to the van and, as soon as it’s pulled to a stop, I open her door.
‘About time,’ I berate her jovially.
‘Everything OK?’ she asks meaningfully.
‘Fine.’ I shrug, playing it down. ‘You only left us one chair,’ I point out with mock annoyance, staring past her at Brett.
‘Oops,’ he replies flippantly, climbing out of the van.
‘And how are things with you?’ I whisper, my own question laced with meaning now.
She turns bright red.
‘You snogged him!’ I whisper.
‘Shh!’ she warns.
I bounce on my feet and giggle excitedly. ‘We are so going for a walk on the beach after lunch,’ I say. ‘I want all the details.’
The day passes by in a blur. I feel so content in the company of these three people – it’s going to be hard to return to normality. Whatever normality is these days.
In the late afternoon, a fog rolls in from the ocean and within seconds it turns the blue sky a murky grey colour.
‘Really?’ Agnes asks with a frown.
‘Come on, don’t be a baby,’ Brett says. He’d just convinced her to go for a walk through the dunes with him. ‘You can wear my jumper.’