He’s smirking at me again. “Not at all,” I reply. “You should eat more of them, Trey. They might make you hot.” I smirk back at him.
He slices the chilli in half, scrapes out the seeds & chops it into tiny pieces. “What, you don’t think I’m hot enough already?” He grins. “I get women throwing themselves at me all the time.” His eyes lock with mine. “Including you, Precious, as I recall.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, which is just as well because I don’t have one. He runs out to the garden and comes back with a handful of herbs. He tears the leaves and sprinkles them over the cheese, then he grates lemon peel over the top. I watch him, fascinated. He’s totally focused on what he’s doing; he’s like one of those professional chefs on the TV. I look at his hands as he grates the lemon, he has long fingers and well-kept nails. The cheese on toast looks elegant, it smells good too, I put my hand to my stomach as I feel it rumble. I hope he didn’t hear it. He picks up the plate and heads for the garden.
He sits down opposite me and takes a mouthful of wine. He gestures to the plate of food. “Help yourself.”
I reach for a piece of toast and nibble at it. Mmm, I never knew cheese and bread could taste this good. I nibble at it some more.
“So, what do you do in London, Pee Aitch?” He takes a big bite of one of the toasts.
“I’m going to be starting university in September,” I tell him.
“Cool. What will you be studying?” He shoves the remaining half of the toast in his mouth.
I lick a stray piece of pepper from my lip. “Music.”
He’s staring at my lips; I take a large gulp of wine.
“What instrument do you play? I can play guitar,” he says as he reaches for another slice of toast. There’s a loud crunch as he bites into it.
There’s something about musicians, I’ve always found them hot, especially guitarists. I twist the stem of the glass between my fingers. “I’m majoring in the saxophone, but I can play the piano, and guitar too, but not very well.”
“I’m impressed.” He finishes off his toast.
A warm breeze blows a strand of hair in my face; I tuck it behind my ear. “How long have you been playing guitar?” I ask.
He rests his forearms on the table and leans towards me. “Since I was ten. My dad got me a guitar for Christmas that year.”
I feel his bare foot rubbing against mine and I jump, spilling some of my wine over my hand, and onto the table. His eyes are glued to mine. “How long have you been playing the sax?”
I hold his gaze. “Since I was thirteen. I started learning the piano when I was eight.” I swing my leg back and kick him hard in the shin.
He frowns and rubs his leg. “What was that for?”
“You know what it was for,” I say.
He chuckles. “It was an accident, I’ve got long legs, I can’t help it.”
I roll my eyes. “So, what music do you like to play?”
“The blues,” he says.
I eat the last piece of toast and lick the grease from my fingers. He reaches across the table and holds his fingers to my lips.
“Will you lick mine clean too?” He’s looking at me expectantly, his eyes are sparkling.
I slap his hand away. “You can lick your own.”
He pouts, then pops his fingers in his mouth one by one. He picks up the empty plate, takes it into the kitchen and returns a few seconds later, holding the wine bottle. He tops up our glasses, leaves the bottle on the table and heads back inside.
It’s starting to get dark; I can no longer see the rest of the garden. Two lamps that are attached to the wall of the house have switched on, bathing the patio in light. I guess they must be set to come on automatically as it gets dark. As I sip my wine I hear a rustle come from the bushes. It doesn’t sound like the wind, is it a creature? It could be a fox. I get up and edge towards the kitchen door, the bush rustles again and I run inside.
The kitchen is empty. There’s another door off the kitchen, I creep through. I’m standing in what must be their lounge. I notice a coal effect fire that’s surrounded by a brick fireplace. The furniture, a three seater sofa and an armchair, looks shabby, but comfortable. There are several cushions on the sofa, along with a blanket, I guess someone likes to snuggle up on there and watch the large flat screen TV. There’s a small hallway off from the lounge, I walk over to it. There are four doors, and all but one of them are closed, I can hear the sound of a TV. One of the doors begins to open. I run back to the garden, I don’t want to get caught being nosey.
I’ve just sat down when Trey comes out. “Sorry to leave you alone,” he says. “I had something to take care of.” He picks more herbs and some tomatoes and goes back inside. I drink more of my wine but when the bushes start rustling again, I decide to join him.
I hear the sizzle of oil. He’s standing at the hob, frying something. “Are you okay with crab cakes and salsa?” he asks.
I beam at him. “I love crab, it’s my favourite.” I move closer and watch, as he chops tomatoes and peppers and arranges salad leaves. “Are you studying, or do you have a job?” I ask.
He plates up the crab cakes and sprinkles some herbs over them. He finally answers. “Neither. I wanted to be a chef.” He picks up the plates and carries them outside.
“It’s not too late, you can apply to a cookery school, or look for work in a local restaurant,” I tell him.
He picks up his wine, drains the glass and refills it. “It’s complicated.”
He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so I drop the subject. I try a forkful of crab cake, it tastes fresh and delicious, I moan in appreciation. His lips twitch. “What do you do for fun when you’re in London?” he asks.
My taste buds have just exploded, that salsa packs a punch. “I like hanging out with my friends. We go dancing, shopping, the movies.” I take a sip of wine, my glass is almost empty. “Of course that will all change when I start uni. I’ll be spending most of my time studying, and I’ll have less money because I’ll have to pay for uni accommodation.”
He reaches across the table and clasps my hand. “I love your nails; they must have taken hours to paint.” He strokes his thumb over my fingers; I don’t pull my hand away. My nails do look good; each one has a different summer design, an ice-cream cone, a beach ball, a sailboat. Fay painted them for me but I won’t tell him that, I’ll let him think that I’m artistic and creative. He continues to hold my hand while he eats with the other, and I let him. “Where is the university?” he asks.
“Sheffield.”
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my fingertips, his breath is warm. I have a feeling he charms women on a regular basis. He collects our empty plates and disappears to the kitchen again. I get up to follow him, but stop for one last sniff of the chocolate mint. As soon as I enter the kitchen, I’m hit by the scent of tangerines and vanilla. I watch as he pours orange coloured syrup on the fruit, then he grates chocolate over the top of it. My mouth is watering, and the scent draws me in. I move closer, resting my hand on his bare shoulder as I lean over and inhale the fruity, chocolately deliciousness. He scoops up a forkful and holds it to my lips. I close my eyes and swallow, it’s heaven. I open my eyes to find his face so close, that I can feel his warm breath on my skin. His eyes remain locked with mine as he scoops up a forkful of fruit for himself. My mouth becomes dry as I watch him lick the syrup from his lips. He continues feeding us both, until the plate is empty.
He puts down the fork, and his arms slip around my waist. He tugs me closer, my hands reach around him and press against his back, I can feel the heat from his body, along with the heat that is forming between my legs. I lick my dry lips. My body is taking control. Brain, feel free to kick in any time now, and remind me that he’s an arrogant, egotistical jerk. I force myself to think, rather than feel. He probably has a different woman in his bed every week; his charm is too slick and practised. Do I want to be another one of his conquests?
His h
ands move to brush the hair from my face, he cups my cheeks in his palms and his thumb strokes my bottom lip. My legs tremble.
“Thank you for tonight. You really are precious, Pia,” he whispers.
I jump as I feel something furry touch my leg. I glance down, and see a tiny black cat. The cat looks up at me, purrs and rubs its head against my bare leg. Trey bends down and scoops the cat up in his hand. “This is Bisley,” he says, as he holds the cat against his chest and strokes it behind the ears. The cat purrs loudly. I reach out and run my fingers over the top of Bisley’s head. He has a little white patch between his eyes.
“I love cats.”
“Do you want to hold him?” Trey places Bisley into my outstretched hands. I can feel his body vibrate as he purrs. Trey smiles. “I kind of adopted him. He was a stray. He was a dirty, scrawny little thing when I found him.”
He looks well fed now and his fur feels clean and soft. Bisley jumps out of my arms and pads off towards the lounge.
Trey is gazing at me. Oh what the hell. I know it’s a game to him, but there’s nothing wrong with a holiday romance. We both know the score; we won’t get our hearts broken. Besides, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell my friends back home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pia
I’m woken by my phone vibrating. I sweep my hand across the bedside table and hear a thump as my phone hits the floor. I groan, rub my eyes and reach down to retrieve it. I stare at the numbers through bleary eyes, 5:30 AM. I must have been insane when I agreed to meet Trey at the beach at this unearthly hour of the morning. I yawn and stretch my arms up over my head. When Trey said he would be busy all day, and that the only time he could see me was early morning, I was swept away in the moment, I said yes. I pull on my jeans and my thick hooded sweatshirt; it can still be cold at this early hour, even in the summer. I brush my hair back into a ponytail and head to the kitchen; I’m going to need a coffee before I leave.
I pull up my hood as I quietly close the front door; the rest of the family will be asleep for a couple of hours yet. My flip flops slap against the paving slabs as I walk down towards the beach. It’s dark and there’s no one else around. The street lights are still on and the houses are bathed in darkness. I shove my hands in my pockets and hunch my shoulders as a cold breeze comes off the sea. I’m crazy, there’s no other explanation for it. I stand by the steps leading down to the sand. I can hear the waves but it’s too dark to see if the tide is in, or out. A seagull screeches overhead. I stamp my feet in an attempt to warm them up.
“Good morning beautiful.” Trey comes up behind me and tugs my hood down. His arms slip around my waist and he pulls me closer, till my back is pressed against his chest. He dips his head and brushes his lips along my neck. It tickles. “Thanks for coming, Pee Aitch. Today would have been a real drag if I hadn’t been able to see you.”
I turn my head. “I expect lots of kisses to make up for being out at the crack of dawn in the cold.”
He spins me around to face him. “I’m happy to oblige.” He sweeps his fingers through my hair as his lips meet mine. I close my eyes. Our tongues dance. His lips are cold, and soft, but his mouth is warm, and he tastes of pancakes and syrup. He pulls back slightly, till the tips of our noses are just touching. My lips are tingling. His breath warms my lips as he speaks. “Did you dream about me last night, Pee Aitch?”
I trace my finger along his bare arm. “Yes, I woke up in a cold sweat after that nightmare.”
He gently nips at my cold nose. “Tell the truth, Precious. You know you missed me.”
I smile at him. “No, you’re just an interesting distraction to an otherwise boring vacation,” I say as I peck him on the lips.
He pouts. “Ouch. You sure know how to hurt a guy’s feelings, Pee Aitch.”
I flick my finger across his lip. “I can’t hurt your feelings, you love yourself too much.”
He grins, and slowly shakes his head, then he reaches for my hand, his fingers feel like ice. “Let’s go on the beach,” he says as he leads me towards the steps.
I dig my heels in and pull back. “It’s too dark, we won’t be able to see anything, and the tide may be in.”
He digs around in his pocket. “I brought a torch.” He holds it beneath his chin, turns it on and pulls a gruesome face.
“That’s an improvement,” I tell him.
He laughs, and grabs my hand. “The tide is in, but it never comes in all the way, there’s always a strip of sand.” He shines the torch to light our way.
“It sounds like you’ve done this before,” I say, as I tread carefully down the steps.
“Yeah, I often come here late at night, or early in the morning.”
I slip off my flip flops and wiggle my toes in the damp sand. I can see tiny lights in the distance from the boats moored out at sea. Trey hands me the torch and tugs his sweatshirt, and t-shirt off over his head. I shine the light at his bare chest. His skin looks white in the torch glow; even though I know he’s tanned. He has a tiny strip of hair between his pecs and his stomach is flat and toned, not quite a six pack, but hot all the same. I chew on my bottom lip.
“Are you coming for a swim?” he asks.
My mouth falls open. “A swim? It’ll be freezing and anyway, I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”
He grins at me. “So swim naked, there’s no one around to see.”
I frown at him. “You’ll see.”
He shrugs and starts to put his t-shirt back on. “Why don’t you leave that off,” I say.
He moves close so we’re standing toe to toe. “Uh huh, so you want to admire my body do you, Precious?”
My finger glides down his chest, between his pecs. “Maybe.”
He pulls at the collar of my sweatshirt and tries to peek down at my chest. I swat his hand away.
“No fair. I don’t get to admire yours,” he says. He curls his arm and tenses his bicep. “You wanna feel my muscles, Pee Aitch?”
I roll my eyes. “I’d say don’t let it go to your head, but it’s too late for that.”
He continues flexing his muscles, and poses like atlas, with his fist resting on his chin. I bust up laughing, he’s a goof. He slips his shirt back over his head.
“Do you like the wet t-shirt look?” he asks.
I frown. “Your t-shirt isn’t wet.”
He runs off and I hear a loud splash. Surely he hasn’t gone into the freezing water. I shine the torch out to sea but I can’t see him in the inky blackness. He’s crazy, utterly and completely mad. He may be a good swimmer, but what if he gets cramp because of the cold? I won’t be able to rescue him. My stomach lurches. “TREY,” I call out. “TREY, COME BACK HERE.”
I almost drop the torch as I feel a cold, wet hand on my shoulder, and a gentle tug on my ponytail. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Were you…worried about me…Precious?” I spin around and he squints as I shine the torch in his face. He’s soaked, and shivering so bad he can barely speak. “I don’t think…that was a…good idea.” He snickers. “I don’t think…goosebumps and…shivering…is a hot look.”
I’m laughing so hard, I’m snorting. I finally calm down enough to speak. “You are insane. You don’t even have a towel; you’re going to freeze to death.”
“A cuddle will…keep me warm,” he says.
I shake my head and frown. “I’m not cuddling you, you’re soaking wet.”
He stands there, his clothes plastered to his skin and water dripping from his hair onto his face. He’s still shaking. I sigh and wrap my arms around him. His skin is ice cold and covered in bumps, he smells of salty sea water, which drips from his nose onto my neck. He shivers against me. I hand him the torch, and rub my hands over his arms to try to bring some warmth back to them. “You should go home and warm up.”
He shakes his head. “Let’s go sit on the steps and watch the sun come up.”
I sit behind him, so that he’s between my legs. I wrap my arms around his and rest my head on his shoulder. The
cement feels hard and cold on my butt. We watch the sun rise, the orange glow reflecting off the water. It’s beautiful. Seagulls circle above us. “What you doing today, Pee Aitch?” he asks.
I brush my hand over his hair; it’s so short it’s dry already. “We’re going to the seal sanctuary.” A seagull lands on the sand in front of us. It cocks its head to the side and studies us for a few minutes, then it struts away.
He turns his head and strokes his cheek against mine. “Can I see you tonight?”
I rest my head against his. “I don’t know how late we’re going to get back.”
“I’ll text you,” he says.
He stands and pulls me up from the step. “I’ll walk you back to your cottage, then I have to go, Precious.” His arm moves around my shoulders and I slip my arm around his waist. His clothes are still damp. I’ve had fun; it was worth waking up early. The village is starting to stir, there are a few cars on the road and the old man is unlocking the door of his grocery shop. We stop at the door to the cottage. Trey cups my cheeks in his hands, closes his eyes and kisses me. My hands rest on his cute butt. He pecks me on the nose and then walks away, backwards, still facing me, his gaze never leaving mine. I’m tense; he’s not looking where he’s going, he could walk into something, or worse, walk into the road and get hit by a car. But he doesn’t, I guess he knows this place well. He stops at the end of the street and blows me a kiss, then he disappears from view.
CHAPTER NINE
Pia
I can hear the kettle boiling. I didn’t expect anyone to be awake yet. I walk into the kitchen, my dad is cracking open the window. He’s already shaved and dressed, so I guess he must have been awake for some time. He grabs two mugs from the mug tree and sets them on the kitchen counter. “I thought you were still asleep, Pia.” He places a spoonful of instant coffee into each mug. We prefer real coffee, but this cottage doesn’t have a coffee maker. He glances at me. “Where have you been at this time of the morning?”
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