Messed Up and Magic: (A New Adult Romance Novel)

by Stone, Holly

  “Amy,” he said. The way he spoke that one word made my heart squeeze.

  “Jack.”

  “It’s good to hear your voice. Are you okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned and that made me smile.

  “I’m okay. Tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “Tell me about it.” I could hear him shifting around, as though he was trying to get comfortable, settling in for a long conversation. “Where did you end up?”

  “Manchester.”

  “To stay with your auntie?”

  “Nah, I’m at a hostel in a dorm with three roommates that I haven’t met yet. All I know about them is they have lots of smelly shoes. And I found a job, maybe. In a tearoom.”

  “Wow. You don’t mess around, do you?” Jack said, and he sounded proud which made me wish that he wasn’t so many miles away. My fingers itched to run over his scalp, to cup his cheek, to feel the life under his skin.

  “And you, how was your day?”

  “Hard work. I mean, I’m grateful for the job and the money but I don’t know how long I can stand it. I’ve got to come up with a plan.”

  “It doesn’t have to be forever. Just think about what makes you tick…listen to your heart.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” he asked.

  “Maybe. Not because I was brave enough to do it without a push though.”

  “You’re plenty brave, you’re just loyal too and you don’t know when to put yourself first.”

  “Maybe,” I said and sighed.

  “You sound sad.”

  “I’m okay. Just feeling…alone, I guess.”

  He sighed. “You feel too far away.”

  “I know. Everything I know, everything familiar seems so distant.”

  “If I close my eyes I can imagine you here. I can still smell you on my pillow,” Jack said in a voice that was low and deep and my heart skipped.

  When I’d dialled his number I’d been in denial about what I’d wanted from the conversation, pretending it was just to do as he had asked, let him know where I was so he would know I was safe and maybe chat for a bit, a way to pass the time. Now I couldn’t deny that I wanted this; his voice and words and the way that thinking about what we had done made me heat in all the right places. I wanted him to know too. There was something about Jack and the way we were together. I didn’t feel the usual fear before saying what was on my mind. He made me feel freer, lighter somehow. “I was thinking about you today. How you looked at me…how you made me feel.”

  “Amy…”

  “I can still feel you between my legs,” I said. His breath hitched, and it was enough to make me shiver.

  “If you were here I would make you feel me all over again.”

  “And I’d let you,” I murmured, craving his touch so desperately it felt physical. I could hear his breathing but he was quiet for a while and so was I. Being in his company was enough, even if it was just over the phone.

  In the end it was Jack who broke the silence. “It’s going to be okay you know.”

  “What is?”

  “Everything.”

  I laughed softly. “You sound very sure Jack.”

  “Maybe just hopeful,” he said quietly.

  “Hopeful is risky.”

  “Maybe,” he replied, “or maybe it’s the only thing that keeps us moving forward.”

  I wondered how he had gotten so wise; he was only eighteen after all, but sometimes I felt as though he had the world sussed better than I did. We were quiet again, but it was interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock to my dorm.

  “Jack, I’m going to have to go,” I said, wishing we could have spoken for longer. “The elusive roommates are back.”

  “Okay, Amy,” he said, sounding just as disappointed as I felt. “Keep safe.”

  “You too. Bye.”

  I spent the rest of the evening getting to know the three Spanish girls I happened to be sharing a dorm with. Hearing their stories about the trips they had taken before coming to the UK, their rich life experiences, just hammered home how sheltered I’d been back in North Riding. My bunk bed wasn’t comfortable, and at least one of my roommates snored, but, as I lay awake in a new place, thinking about Jack and his hopefulness, I found a sense of relief washing over me for the first time in ages.

  Chapter 12

  JACK

  There can be something present in the air that will bring back a buried memory; a smell maybe, a sound, the way the light falls, music. Sometimes it brings back good memories and times past that you wish you could lose yourself in again.

  The smell of autumn, the damp fallen-leaf scent, mixed with the chilled wind of winter could bring back a day I would rather forget. That morning, when I stepped out of my front door I caught that scent and it hit me in the gut. All day I couldn’t shake it. Memories clung to me like the remnants of a bad dream and I just wanted to get away to a place where I wouldn’t have to answer questions about the locations of food or pretend to be cheerful when colleagues wanted to pass the time of day.

  There are some things that happen in life that stay raw no matter how much time has passed, things that, if you thought about them, could make you cry all over again. I could still hear whimpering ringing in my ears from the day when he was taken away. The terror of wondering if I would be made to go too lingered inside me and probably would forever.

  Maybe it was better that I had to keep going because I’d nowhere to go to mourn his loss, no one to talk to about what happened that day. Dwelling too much wasn’t healthy. Thinking about it was the only thing that made me want to look for an easy way to forget, and I wasn’t planning on going down the same path as my mum.

  I made it through the day and after work I headed over to Lee’s so we could walk over to the park together for football practice. His mum answered the door and I found him slumped on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, watching boxing. It was quieter in their flat than usual which was good because I wasn’t in the mood to make polite conversation. Neither, it seemed, was Lee. We grunted an acknowledgement at each other and I flopped down on the sofa next to him, sitting in companionable silence as we’d done so many times growing up. Lifelong friendships are a bit like your oldest t-shirt, easy to slip into, filled with memories, moulded to fit you. Five minutes must have passed before Lee made some comment on the bout; a complaint about the referee that I trusted was on the mark. He’d dabbled himself in our early teenage years so knew more about the sport than I did.

  When the result was declared, Lee got up and we grabbed our football kits, ready for practice. We chatted on the way about the usual stuff, work, local gossip, football, which boozer we would go to later. The air was still winter crisp, and I felt the hurt in my chest as deeply as I had in the morning. As we got changed, Lee looked at me seriously, as if he could tell something was wrong.

  “You got shit going on?” he asked. “Cos you know I don’t do that sharing feelings bullshit, but if you need help with anything, you let me know.”

  I nodded once, his recognition putting a lump in my throat. “It nothing…just ghosts over my head, that’s all.”

  He shook his head. “You got to put ‘em back in the box, Jack. It’s the only place for them.” He was right.

  I pushed myself harder during the friendly match than I had in a long time, until my chest burnt and my legs felt like lead, and it was good. We showered off the mud and our sweat, the changing room ripe with man-smell and shower gel by the time we’d finished.

  At the pub Lee bought me a pint and we drank quickly, standing by the fruit machine while he watched someone feeding it, waiting to swoop in at the right time. We bumped into a few old school friends from round the way, engaged in the kind of stimulating conversation that comes from a load of young men who have had a few too many drinks. I was actually starting to put my ghosts to bed but the reprieve was short lived. Lee nudged me and nodded his head towards the door. When I looked up, my mum was there, following her scumbag boyfriend into
the pub.

  It was the first time I’d seen her since she kicked me out and my blood boiled with all the festering resentment I’d collected over my short life. I turned my back, not wanting her to see me and make a scene, knowing I would probably say more than I should with my ghosts so near the surface.

  I was struck by how much older she looked than I remembered. She was only in her early forties but Tina Harlow looked worn down by a hard life and drained by substances. I’d distanced myself from her long before she physically expelled me from her life, but standing across the pub from her, she felt like a stranger. I caught Lee looking at me, sizing up the situation. I hadn’t told him what happened but I still had faded bruising on my face, enough for him to add it up.

  “You want to get out of here?” he asked. “I’ll grab a six pack from the off licence on the way home?”

  I nodded and we downed the dregs of our pints and I followed Lee towards the exit. I kept my eyes down, using the crowd to avoid being seen but I wasn’t lucky.

  “Eh, Tina, look, it’s your shithead kid.” Darren’s voice was loud enough for me to hear through the background noise and I cringed, wanting to get out of there without a scene.

  “Jack,” my mum shouted. I kept moving but her voice kept getting louder as she tried to keep up. “Jack! Stop!” she called, catching my arm just as I passed through the door into the car park.

  “What?” I hissed through gritted teeth, spinning round, not caring about restraint now we were outside.

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Her words were slurry and I cringed again, realising she’d been drinking at home already.

  It was a bad sign.

  She tugged at the cuff of her purple fleece jacket, something she always did when she was nervous and it hurt me to see evidence of her vulnerability. It was easier to deal with the hardened version of her I’d built in my mind. I knew she wasn’t an evil person but that didn’t make it any easier to be her son.

  “I’m okay, just go back inside,” I said, turning to walk away.

  “Don’t…” She grabbed onto my arm. “Just stop a minute, okay. Where are you staying?”

  “I’ve got a place. You don’t need to worry.” I put my hand over hers and gently removed it from my sleeve, taking a step back. She looked small and insubstantial with the bright halogen lights highlighting the lines around her eyes and the greying streaks in her hair, and I couldn’t look at her anymore without it breaking something inside me. Some small piece that I’d managed to glue together would come apart again.

  “Where? Where are you staying?” I shook my head, refusing to tell her where I was. She might decide to pop round and things weren’t going to be like that between us, not after what had happened. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she pleaded.

  “It does. For me.”

  “So that’s it?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, turning and walking to where Lee was waiting for me on the pavement. I slung my bag of dirty kit over my shoulder and we walked up the road in silence. I didn’t want to look back, but just before we turned the corner an instinct to check on her made me turn my head. My mum was still standing in the doorway, her arms drawn around herself, hands tucked into the sleeves of her fleece, looking like a lost child.

  It doesn’t matter why you feel it – even if you believe you are totally in the right – animosity always tastes bitter.

  Chapter 13

  AMY

  I was a week into working at Time for Tea, having successfully completed the morning test run. Lisa, the rockabilly owner, was fast becoming my favourite person, both for her willingness to take me on and to share her expertise in cake making. In just seven days I’d already doubled my skills and was learning about the business side too. I was only working afternoons, but with tips it was enough to keep me going each day without having to dip into my savings. Even better, it was fun and I desperately needed some of that. My Spanish dorm-mates were also amazing, inviting me to tag along to all the weird and wonderful places highlighted in Trip Advisor’s guide to Manchester. My escape from North Riding was starting to feel a bit like a transplant into a gap year. I’d shed my life like a skin, or at least that’s what I wanted to have done.

  The only thing nagging at me was Jack. I’d tried to call him again but he hadn’t answered. Instead he’d sent me a few general sounding texts, and it felt as though he was trying to distance himself. I talked myself round in circles about how I should feel about it. I was the one who’d left North Riding after all. I was the one who’d defined what we’d been to each other, physical therapy of sorts. If he was thinking that more conversations full of yearning were pointless now I’d moved away, I couldn’t blame him. It didn’t stop me worrying about him. He had a lot going on in his life – all the things that had brought us together that he hadn’t really talked to me about – and it’s hard to ignore when you’re in the thick of it.

  Just before my shift was going to end a familiar looking face came into the café, an Asian guy, maybe Chinese. I narrowed my eyes, trying to work out where I knew him from and then it hit me. North Riding. I didn’t know his name but I knew he was friends with Jack. I’d seen them kicking round town together in their school uniforms and his parents owned the Chinese down the road. His name escaped me though, but it didn’t matter because he knew mine.

  “Amy Mayes, as I live and breathe!” he called across the café. “Jack told me you were in town and I had to come and see a familiar face.”

  “Hi,” I said, “that’s nice of you.”

  “You remember me?” he said, flapping his hand from his head to his waist like a game show girl showing off prizes. “Cheng from Wing’s Chinese!”

  “Course I do,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to ask his name. “What are you doing here?”

  “I go to Manchester Uni, my halls are just up the road.”

  “Wow…more connections to home!” I said, shaking my head at the coincidences. Cheng looked a little confused.

  “My boss’s brother lived in North Riding too.”

  “Ah,” he said, running his hand through his glossy black hair and looking around. He looked dishevelled in a student way; scruffy but cool in a designer t-shirt, dark jeans and Converses. “Can I order something?”

  “Course, take a seat and I’ll bring you a menu.” Cheng chose the table nearest the counter and I passed him a menu, standing while he looked it over. The tearoom wasn’t busy so I had time to talk.

  “Cappuccino and a coffee-and-walnut cupcake please,” he said, grinning.

  “Good choices!”

  He handed me the menu and shook his head. “Wow, Amy Mayes in Manchester. It’s good to see a familiar face.”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling the same thing. “So, when did you speak to Jack?”

  “Yesterday. He’s been a total slacker about keeping in touch but he called to ask me to come and check on you. Since when did you and Harlow become best mates?”

  “Since a couple of weeks ago,” I said, warmth spreading through my chest; Jack was still thinking about me. Cheng must have seen some kind of change in my expression because he narrowed his eyes and then smiled as if he had it all worked out.

  “I don’t believe it! You and Harlow? Wow…he’s punching above his weight a bit isn’t he?”

  I burst out laughing. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your mate is it?”

  “Ah…” he stabbed the air with his finger. “No denials...I was right.”

  “I’m saying nothing.” I waved the menu at him as if to shoo him away and went behind the counter to prepare his order.

  “Wow…I’m only gone for a few months and look what happens. That little shit goes and becomes a player.”

  “Hardly,” I said, frothing the milk for Cheng’s cappuccino. “Jack’s a good guy.”

  “Mmmm,” Cheng said. “He is. So what’s the deal with you guys…?”

  “I think I’ll leave that
one with Jack.”

  “No fair…how am I going to rib him later if you don’t give me any juice?”

  I smirked and he looked put-out, which made me laugh. I liked Jack’s friend. He was funny.

  “So, what are you studying?”

  “Law...my parents’ dream!”

  “Ah, so you won’t be taking over Wings then?”

  “No way! My parents would rather I died than work in a restaurant.”

  “Oh, they don’t want to pass it on to you then. It seems like a really good business.”

  “It is a good business but they want me to do more than they had a chance to. They’ve put a lot into my education, as much as they could, and they want to see me do something where I don’t have to get my hands dirty…well, not literally anyway.”

  I pondered on that. Cheng’s parents’ attitude seemed so at odds with my own father’s. He saw his achievements as the be all and end all of life. That’s why he wanted Dan and me to keep it all going.

  “So is law what you want to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know…it’s okay…maybe not what I would have chosen myself… if I had a choice.”

  I felt for Cheng then, because whilst his parents were hoping he would make more of his life than they had, they were still dictating his choices. We had more in common that I’d thought.

  I had other customers to serve so I left him for a while to do my job. Lisa was busy out the back making a fresh batch of fruit bread that smelt so amazing I knew I was going to be pleading to copy the recipe later. While I was clearing a table near the window, the door chimed and I glanced up to see who was coming through the door. It was a boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen years of age, wearing a navy and grey school uniform. He was tall, with dark hair swept up into a fashionable style and a book bag slung across his body. When he turned to scan the tearoom I felt like a strong hand had grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed. I knew those dark eyes, those sloping eyebrows, that straight nose. I’d kissed lips just like his, felt them pressed against my skin in ways that had made me burn. It was as though I had wound back the clock by half a decade to a time when Jack was still trapped between boyhood and manhood, only the boy in front of me was slightly less punky and much less serious looking. He was Jack’s cheekier looking double, so close in appearance that I blinked a few times, wondering if all the thinking I’d been doing about Jack had made me hallucinate this younger version.