‘We should go back now,’ he says. ‘Finish this somewhere more comfortable.’
‘Yeah, Jesse. God, this is a family beach,’ I snigger.
‘And these tricks are definitely not for kids,’ he says.
* * *
It’s later in the evening, and we’re chilling out and listening to music in the lounge. We were outside most of the day, and not only does my skin have that glowy warm, slightly tight feel to it you get after a little too much sun, but I also have hot day lethargy. I’m flicking through my magazine, not really paying any attention to what I’m reading.
‘Hey, can I borrow your laptop for a bit?’ I need to sort the hen night if I don’t want any more chaser emails from Marie, and besides, now’s as good a time as any to do it.
‘Of course.’ He nods to the computer. I flip the screen up and it boots into life. ‘There’s no password.’
I tap away for a few minutes, make the reservation, and throw in some ludicrously priced optional extras: Prosecco in an ice bucket. VIP entry so we don’t have to wait in line. A free cocktail voucher, on account of it being a hen do. ‘Whatcha doin’ on there?’ Jesse asks.
‘I’m booking a night out at a roller disco for Rachel’s hen do,’ I say.
‘A roller disco?’
‘Yeah, you know, a club where you wear roller skates and dance around. Cheesy music, shit drinks, bruised arses.’
‘I know what one is, I just didn’t know you could skate.’
‘Well, it’s not usually the first thing I say to people,’ I say.
‘I’m going to want to see pictures.’
‘Oh god.’ I laugh. ‘I’ll probably look ridiculous.’
‘You’ll probably look like you’re having fun.’ He brushes his finger between my toes and it tickles. ‘Sand,’ he explains. ‘Anyway, what was? The first thing you said. To me.’
‘In the hotel bar?’
‘Yep.’
What a bizarre thing to ask. Does he not remember? Or is he just testing me?
‘I think it was, Jesse, hi, or something.’
‘Right, but what about after that?’
‘Erm…’ I make it look like I’m trying to remember. But of course I remember. I might have been busy falling in love but I absolutely remember every single thing we said to each other that night. I replay it in my head often.
‘You said, “you made it,” and I said, “so did you. How mad is this?”’
‘Did you think it was mad?’
‘As a March hare. Didn’t you?’
‘Completely nuts. Do you still think that?’
‘No. This is fun. I’m having fun with you,’ I say. I want to say more. I want to tell him everything, all these big, terrifying feelings I’m having and how I’m barely holding it together, but I don’t, and besides, this is a step up from the jibbering idiot in Philippe’s, bigging up the coleslaw and not being able to look him in the eye. Baby steps. He bends over and kisses my knee.
‘You about done on there?’ he says.
‘Yep.’ I close the webpage and put the laptop back on the table.
‘Do you feel like going out somewhere?’
‘Oooh where?’
‘We could go for a drive. Head out somewhere there isn’t so much light pollution. Do some stargazing.’
Lord, if that’s not the most romantic thing anyone has ever suggested to me.
‘Oh my god, yes.’
‘Okay, cool. There’s a spot down in Laguna. Maybe on the way back we can go get a drink somewhere.’
I sneakily look over at him as he drives. And I think that for someone who claims to be a closed book he definitely finds it easier to talk about his feelings than I do. And maybe I should steel my nerve a little more. Throw caution to the wind, even close my eyes if I need to, and just tell him how I feel about him. Just tell him everything. I could do it whilst we’re counting stars. Hell, I could do it right now. My fingers curl around the hem of my skirt in anticipation. I start to form a sentence in my head.
‘Music?’ Jesse asks. He switches on the car stereo. I swallow my words back down.
‘Lovely,’ I say, instead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jesse
‘So when do I get to meet your girlfriend?’ Travis asks, when I eventually answer the call I’ve been avoiding since Cassie arrived a week ago. ‘Can we call her that yet?’
‘I don’t know. It’s complicated. She’s going back to England next week.’ I don’t like the thought of it.
‘So is that the end of that?’
‘I'm not intending it to be. You’re welcome here whenever. You know that.’
‘Yeah… but… I’m not just going to come over unannounced when you’re on your two-week date with Cassie from London. Which I’m going to assume is going well, if your radio silence and obvious call screening is anything to go by?’
‘Okay, well how are you fixed for this evening? And yes, your assumption is correct.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. You’ll like her. You can’t not like her. She’s amazing.’
‘I mean, I distinctly remember you saying that about Nicole, and look how fast you managed to switch that particular light off when she wasn’t going to be local anymore.’
‘Low blow, Travis. And I don’t know what you’ve been told about that, but I feel like it’s very different to the version I lived through, you know?’
‘Well, either way, you did say after she’d gone that it was probably for the best with the distance and all.’
Oh, fuck that.
‘She dumped me, dude. I thought things were fine. But apparently they weren’t. And I know I said that, but people say shit when they’re mad.’
‘Relax, Jesse. Why are you so tetchy?’
‘I’m not tetchy,’ I say quickly. It’s a lie. Thinking about Nicole makes me all kinds of tetchy, and I want to change the subject.
‘Hmm.’
‘What’s that for?’
‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘Anyway. Yes to later on. I’ll bring some beer. Does she drink beer?’
‘She does.’
Cassie rounds the corner of the landing and bounces down the steps.
‘Hey, I have to go. Come by at seven, okay?’
I end the call and she leans over the back of the couch and links her arms around my neck. She rubs her cheek against mine, but I haven’t shaved for a couple of days and there’s a scratching sound.
‘What are we doing today?’
‘Well, Trav’s coming over this evening. But for now I thought we could maybe go to Venice? It’s pretty nice. There are canals and usually something to see on the boardwalk, and obviously another beach, if you’re not completely bored of beaches?’
‘I’m never bored of beaches,’ she says, and kisses my cheek.
‘Hey, actually, can you ride a bike?’ I ask.
‘Of course, why? Can’t you?’
‘Feel like riding from Venice down to Santa Monica?’
‘Yes. Let’s go.’ She pats my shoulders. ‘Up you get.’
* * *
‘If you could live in any of these, which one would it be?’ We’re strolling by the canal and she stops to look around. She’s leaning against the white bridge and behind her, a couple of row boats float in the still water. We’re not far from the bustle of the beach and the boardwalk but it’s quiet here. I look around at the houses, some newly renovated with painted fascias, sitting right alongside older, quaint bungalows.
‘I think that one,’ I say, nodding over to a larger house with floor to ceiling windows and a high, dark green, wood fence around it. ‘I bet it has a pool.’
‘And brushed chrome kitchen worktops. For that industrial chic look.’
‘And a huge table in the dining room.’
‘With those trendy Eames chairs around it. And a double-sided fireplace in the middle of the lounge that you switch on with a remote,’ she says, and giggles. ‘Like you see in movies.’
; ‘And it’s got a bathroom for every bedroom. Plus a half bath downstairs.’
‘Err, definitely. I’d expect nothing less. And in the master bedroom, the bed is right in the middle of the room. And there’s a walk-in wardrobe.’
‘And heated floors for when it gets cold in winter.’
‘I bet it doesn’t really get cold here in winter,’ she says, looking around.
‘Maybe sixty-five?’
She Googles the conversion on her phone and scoffs. ‘That’s not cold! That’s like summer in England.’
‘God, really? Fuck that temperate shit.’
‘You get used to it,’ she says, and then pauses. ‘So, actually, about England… I’ve been meaning to ask you something.’
She looks down at the water again, and there’s a nervousness about her now. She’s gripping on to the bridge.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. About Rachel’s wedding.’
‘Okay…?’
‘Right, so the thing is, I don’t have a date.’
‘I thought there was a handsy best man?’
As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want to think about that frat boy putting his hands on her. Or even trying to.
‘Aha. Yes, well he’ll be there… but, I was wondering if,’ she catches my eye but only for a second before looking away again. ‘If maybe you would like to come. With me. As my date.’
I’m sort of taken aback, but compose myself quickly.
‘Uh… remind me of when it is?’
‘Thirteenth of October. Look, don’t worry. It’s a big deal, and you’re probably busy, and it’s a long way to come and you’ll only know me, and…’
She stops and exhales as she watches me check my calendar on my phone. The week’s free. At this point there’s nothing stopping me from going. It does feel like a big deal, though. But too much of one? Rachel obviously knows about Franko, and no doubt, after Cassie goes home, she’ll know about how it all ended as well. But it’s been thirteen years since all that, and besides, everyone’s focus will be on the bride and groom.
I could tally everything up in my head. Figure out pros and cons. Pit reasons to decline against reasons to accept, but really, the outcome remains the same. Saying no means I don’t know when I’ll see her again and saying yes means that I do. She’s still watching me, wide-eyed, still nervous. Travis telling me to let it happen comes to the fore again.
‘I’d really like that, Cass,’ I say.
Chapter Thirty
Cassie
We didn’t stay in Venice late; Travis is coming over to quell his curiosity about me, and that freeway gets busy in rush hour. Jesse doesn’t know if he’s bringing Holly but he reckons it’s very unlikely. As he says her name he makes a face, but when I ask about it, he just shrugs it off, and now Travis isn’t the only one with curiosity. I hope he does bring her.
I don’t say anything to Jesse, but I’m nervous. I’m sure that’s normal. Who wouldn’t be? I want to know what he’s like now, and whether he’s still how I remember him in Franko, excitable and chatty and funny, or whether that was a kind of façade. I want to see the dynamic between them, and I want him to like me. I realise, as I’m rinsing a glass under the tap, that I’m desperate to win his approval.
The screen door rattles just after seven. Jesse’s upstairs, and I’ve perched myself on the corner of the sofa, and I grab at the first thing I see, a magazine about guitars and amps and stuff that looks technical. Seconds later Travis saunters in, carrying a white plastic bag. There’s no one with him, so I guess Holly isn’t coming. It’s too late for me to find anything else to peruse, so I flick to the middle and peer over the top of the pages towards the front door. He hasn’t changed much either. What’s with these Peter Pan types? He’s about the same height as Jesse, perhaps an inch or so taller, but his frame is slightly more wiry. He has the same straight nose and skin tone, a small silver hoop punched through one of his ear lobes and his hair is much shorter than Jesse’s; cropped at the sides and messy on top. He’s wearing a white linen shirt and faded black skinny jeans with rips in the knees. I can’t wait to tell Rachel. I’d like to think she’d be swooning all over again, but truthfully, I’m not sure he’s still her type. I couldn’t picture her with him after seeing her with sensible George. Travis still doesn’t look sensible.
‘Yo, Jesse,’ he calls through the house. He doesn’t look my way at first. He puts the bag down with a clink on the side, pulls out a few bottles of beer and makes his way to the fridge. After he’s stocked it up, he looks out towards the back doors, and it’s only then that he clocks me.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he says, stepping back. ‘You’re so quiet.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, chucking the magazine back on the table and standing up, but he’s smiling and it isn’t awkward. ‘I’m not really all that quiet.’
‘So you must be British Cassie,’ he says.
‘Argh, what gave me away? Was it the accent?’
He laughs and it instantly puts me at ease. Now I don’t know why I was ever nervous at all.
‘Heard a lot about you,’ he says, raising an eyebrow.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘All good things,’ he says.
‘Phew!’ I say. ‘Though it might be a bit weird if he’d been slagging me off to you whilst I’d been here.’
‘Slagging you off,’ he says, slowly, mimicking my voice. ‘That’s a fun expression. I’m going to use that. Anyway, where’s the boy? It’s time to get this party started.’
‘He just nipped upstairs,’ I say.
‘Okay. Well,’ he waves a bottle opener at me. ‘Shall we? He’ll catch up.’
‘It’d be rude not to.’
‘Right on, British Cassie,’ he says, grabbing some drinks. We head outside. ‘So, California treating you well?’
‘Very well. I like it here a lot.’
‘Bit different to London, huh?’
‘Hardly the same at all,’ I say. We both look out towards the sea. ‘Jesse tells me you’re recently married?’
Travis nods.
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’ He pauses for a few seconds and shifts in his seat. ‘Holly already had other plans, otherwise she’d be here, too.’
I nod slowly, take a sip of my beer. It fizzes and foams up the bottle neck, stinging my top lip slightly. I think back to what Jesse has said and wonder briefly if Travis was making an excuse for her absence. There was something in the way he shifted in his seat and looked away. Now I’m even more curious about her.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs makes us both turn to look back inside and Jesse emerges. He’s changed his t-shirt. He spins on his heels when he spies our beers, and grabs one for himself from the kitchen, and he squints a little as he steps outside. Travis stands up and they hug, clapping each other on the back affectionately as they do. It’s brotherly. Fleetingly, I wish I had a sibling to hug like that.
‘So how have you been, bro? It’s been, what? At least a week?’ Travis asks as Jesse pulls up a chair. He sits between us and rests his hand on my knee.
‘Good, good, yeah,’ he says. ‘I’ve been busy with this one.’
We grin at each other. Travis definitely notices.
‘Well, that’s very nice,’ he says. He catches my eye and I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he making his mind up about me? Deciding whether he likes me or not? Figuring out whether I’m good enough for his brother or just a summer romance that will invariably fizzle out. ‘What have y’all been up to?’
‘I feel like I should let Cassie fill you in on that,’ Jesse says. He looks encouragingly at me. I open my mouth and I don’t stop talking, I can’t stop talking, for ages. I talk about it all; Griffith Park and Amoeba and Philippe’s, selling them to Travis as if he’s never been there. Except I’d put everything I own on him having been to all three. He’s lapping it up though, joining in, asking if I noticed specific little things at the observatory, asking how I lik
ed the sandwich, telling me, like Jesse did, that it’s a bit of an LA food landmark. We’re getting on well. I’m making a good impression, I’m sure of it, which I’m happier about than I’d care to admit. I know they’re close, and those first impressions count.
During a lull in conversation, Jesse pushes back his chair and stands up. He moves behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, and I look up at him. His hair is falling in front of his face. I reach up and tuck some back behind his ear.
‘Feel like eating now?’ he asks.
‘Definitely. Let me help you bring stuff out,’ I offer, but he shakes his head, and squeezes my shoulders, and heads inside. I look over to Travis, but suddenly his expression is blank. He looks behind him, back into the house before he speaks.
‘Be careful with him,’ he says, quietly. I lean forward, pretty sure this isn’t a conversation Jesse is supposed to hear.
‘Pardon?’
‘That sounded more ominous than I meant, but the way things ended with Nicole hit him harder than he admits to. And he didn’t want to go long distance with her,’ he continues. ‘So the fact you’re here is a really big deal.’
‘Travis,’ I say. ‘I don’t know who Nicole is.’
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. ‘For real? He’s not said anything?’
‘Nope.’ I look past him. In the kitchen, Jesse’s pulling stuff out of the fridge. Suddenly my mouth is dry and I feel sweaty.
‘Where to start. Jesus, okay. Jesse and Nicole were together for a year or so. Maybe a little bit longer. And then one day, out of the blue she tells him she’s got this new job doing something she knew she was going to love. Sounds cool, right? Here’s the kicker, it was in New York. She told him she was going on New Year’s Eve, and he was not invited.’
Call Me, Maybe Page 19
