by Vicky Owen
I stand back up and start pacing. Need to get my mind off this. I’ll shower when I get back. After I’ve dropped her home and I know that she’s safe.
My mind drifts back to last night, and I can immediately feel the adrenaline start to rise in my blood. If I hadn’t been there…if I hadn’t seen what that fucking bastard was trying to do…I can feel my fists clenching as I remember, my body becoming stiff with rage. Deep breaths.
I was there, thank God. And that douchebag is in some police cell. I made damn sure of that. Fuck knows how I managed to restrain myself from beating him to a bloody pulp. Guess I’ve grown up more than I realise.
Footsteps coming down the stairs pull me back to the present. Cerys steps back into the room. She’s so much taller in her boots. Slung over her shoulder is a bag so small I don’t understand what it could possibly contain.
‘I’m ready.’ She snatches her phone from the counter and walks smartly to the front door. She tries to open it and fails. I fold my arms across my chest and suppress a laugh as she struggles to figure out the lock
After a minute: ‘How do you open this thing?’
I start laughing. She turns to look at me, unimpressed. I walk over and open the door with ease.
‘How did you do that? No, never mind, let’s just go.’
There’s something irresistible about her when she gets agitated, even after all these years.
I suddenly realise how much I’ve missed her.
I follow her through the door. She’s stopped in front of my car. ‘Holy shit. I don’t know anything about cars, but this looks dangerously expensive.’
‘Yep. Better not spill anything,’ I wink at her. The doors unlock automatically as I approach.
‘What, like my breakfast?’ She’s grinning at me.
‘Exactly. How are you feeling?’
‘I’m okay. Still sleepy.’
You could stay here and sleep in my bed. With me. I stop myself from saying it out loud.
She opens the door and gets into the car, wide-eyed.
As I take the driver’s seat, I realise I’m the happiest I’ve been for the longest time.
I start the engine, then realise I have no idea where we’re going.
‘Christchurch,’ Cerys says, like she’s reading my mind.
‘Thanks.’
She smiles at me and buckles her seatbelt. Sitting next to her I can easily see down her top. I look away, trying to escape the inexplicable hold she seems to have over me, but not before I notice how perfect her cleavage is.
For fuck’s sake.
I flick the radio on. I need some kind of distraction. Anything.
Music. Thank God.
Cerys alternates between looking out of the window and studying the car’s interior. She doesn’t say a thing. Her soft lips are parted slightly as she takes it all in, and I have the urge to kiss her.
Concentrate on the road.
The song on the radio comes to an end and a new one begins.
Oh fucking great. No Reckless.
And there’s me singing. This is awkward.
Cerys has stopped looking around. Her attention is focused on the radio now. She’s frowning slightly and biting on her lip.
Very sexy.
Wait. Is my singing making her uncomfortable?
‘Are you okay? Shall I turn it off?’
She looks startled. ‘What? No, no, I…turn here.’ Her eyes are back on the road. ‘Next left.’
We turn onto a street that’s seen better days. We’re clearly deep in studentville here. There are wheelie bins and bin bags outside every house. One black bag has burst, and three seagulls have strewn the trash across the pavement. Another house, a few doors down, is pumping out a heavy bass line.
Across the street, three people are screaming at each other.
Is this where she lives? She shouldn’t be here. She should be with me. Where it’s safe and clean.
‘It’s just here,’ she points towards a grey, generic-looking block of flats. I reluctantly pull over and turn off the radio.
She opens the door before turning back to look at me. For a moment we sit in silence, and I want to ask her to stay. To come back with me. I don’t even know why. So she doesn’t have to stay here? Because I want her in my shower with me? I try to find the words, but I’m just lost in her. In her dark eyes. A strand of hair falls over her face and it takes all my willpower not to reach out and brush it back behind her ear.
She breaks eye contact and turns to get out of the car. ‘See you around, maybe.’ She climbs out and closes the door before turning back to look at me through the open window.
‘Jake, I, uh…’ she trails off. And then: ‘Thank you.’
She turns and walks up the steps to the entrance of the building.
And then she’s gone.
Cerys
AT LEAST IT’S only a teeny-tiny walk of shame, right? And is it even a walk of shame if you didn’t actually have sex? If you were, in fact, getting saved from some date-raping opportunist?
On the other hand…a walk of shame, and I didn’t even get laid. Maybe that’s the real shame?
Well, whatever. As I reach into my bag to retrieve my key, I’m hit by another wave of nausea.
Plenty of rest. Lots of fluids.
Oh, and that eight thousand word summer placement report I haven’t finished.
Damn.
I unlock the outer door and let myself into the building, taking the lift to the second floor and letting myself into the flat.
Mylo pops his head out of his room. ‘She’s back.’
‘You’re home!’ Lexi is hugging me before the door has even closed. ‘Oh thank God. What happened? Is everything OK? Tea?’
Tea. Lexi’s answer to all of life’s problems. She ushers me into the living room and flicks on the kettle while I collapse onto the sofa. Mylo sits down too and puts his arm around me, pulling me into him affectionately.
‘What happened? Lexi has been frantic and even less coherent than usual,’ he teases.
‘I’ve been worried!’
‘You know, I’m not even sure,’ I think for a minute. ‘There was some tall blond guy. I drank vodka and orange. That’s really all I remember.’
‘You don’t even like vodka orange,’ says Lexi, dropping some tea bags into three mugs before coming over to sit on the other sofa. ‘And where have you been all this time? Who’s this friend you mentioned in your messages earlier?’
‘Oh yeah. Some guy from school. He saw me and intervened, apparently. Took me back to his place.’ I decide to leave out the famous-rock-star-and-I’ve-always-had-a-thing-for-him-and-OMG-he’s-even-hotter-now part.
Lexi and Mylo exchange a suspicious look.
‘And you trust this friend?’ Mylo raises an eyebrow.
‘Yes!’ Jake’s a lot of things but I know he’d never hurt me. Although, after what happened with Ana, maybe I shouldn’t be so sure…
‘And you’re sure you’re okay?’ Mylo asks, interrupting my thoughts while Lexi heads to the kitchen counter to attend to the freshly-boiled kettle.
‘I think so. I don’t really feel anything.’ A lie. I feel a thousand emotions. None of them to do with blond man though. ‘Anyway,’ I try changing the subject, tired of thinking about something I can’t even remember, ‘what happened to Lexi last night? Did you find any hot men worthy of your attentions?’
Lexi brings two mugs of hot tea over, setting them down next to me and Mylo. ‘Nope. All freshers. What a waste.’
‘Told you,’ says Mylo smugly.
‘Tell us more about this guy who rescued you,’ Lexi settles down on the opposite sofa with her tea. Eyes wide. I know that look.
‘It’s nothing like that.’ It’s exactly like that, but I’m not really his type—Ana was tall and lithe, while I’m short and all hips—and I don’t want to let myself even entertain the idea.
Lexi raises her eyebrow at me. She knows me far too well. I look to Mylo for help but his
face is the same as Lexi’s. Damn it.
‘You’re wrong, by the way.’ My second attempt to change the subject. ‘There were more than just freshers there last night.’
‘Oh?’ Lexi sips her tea.
‘No Reckless were upstairs, or so I’m told.’
Lexi’s eyes are like saucers. ‘Shut. Up. Shut the fuck up.’
‘Oh, in the VIP area? The balcony?’ Mylo asks.
‘Yep.’
‘No Reckless were upstairs and no one told me? Damn.’ Lexi sinks back into her sofa. ‘Wait,’ she goes on, narrowing her eyes at me, ‘how do you even know this?’
‘Friend told me,’ I wink and take a sip of tea.
‘Your knight in shining armour, I think you mean,’ Mylo nudges me. I scowl in response, although the effect is undercut by an unexpected yawn..
‘I should get some sleep. I’m still so tired,’ I say, getting up from the sofa.
‘We should take you to hospital to get you checked over,’ Lexi says, getting up at the same time and coming over.
‘No,’ I say, batting her away, ‘I’m okay. Really, it’s just like a horrendous hangover. Think I just need rest and hydration.’
She looks at me, a worried frown on her face, clearly feeling helpless. ‘Well, okay,’ she says slowly, ‘but we’re staying here all day. If you need anything—’
‘I know,’ I smile, giving her a hug. ‘Thanks guys.’
‘Group hug!’ Mylo stands and pulls us both into his strong arms, making us laugh.
After he lets us go I head to my room with my cup of tea and close the door, tossing my clothes on the floor and putting my mobile phone on the bedside table. I sit on my bed for a few minutes, just wearing a vest and panties, sipping my tea. The great British cure-all. The sunlight glinting off my laptop catches my eye. That damn report. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I realise I really don’t have the energy to think about it. It’ll have to wait until I’ve rested.
I place my empty mug next to my mobile and slip between the bedsheets.
Lemon gingham. Cold. Worn. Student-appropriate.
Not like Jake’s bed. Warm sheets, heavy duvet, the scent of Jake. Testosterone and boyishness and nostalgia.
Why had I wanted to leave again?
He stopped that guy from taking me. He gave me his bed to sleep in. He made me breakfast. He brought me home. We used to be best friends. He’s achingly hot.
Oh yeah. That’s why. I’m a fucking idiot.
Well, that and Ana. I want to hate her for ruining everything, but I know it was Jake’s choice.
When I almost started crying and he pulled me into his arms… I didn’t want him to let me go.
Whatever. No use dwelling on it. It’s a good thing, really. I have a first class honours and a funded PhD to chase. Right after I sleep.
I pull the sheets up around my shoulders and something catches my eye. Not the glint of sunlight this time. A blinking light.
My phone. I reach over and press the home button to wake the screen, holding it so it’s facing me.
Text message.
Hey, it’s me. Jake ;)
Damn it.
CHAPTER 4
Cerys
‘THIS IS THE most important year of your degree.’
Sam is next to me on my right, studiously taking notes, taking the booming voice of the man below us very seriously. The presentation slides were uploaded to Student Central last night. There’s really no need to take notes. And anyway, this is an introductory lecture. All the information is in our student handbooks.
Still she keeps writing.
Lexi isn’t even paying attention. She’s to my left, fiddling with her mobile under the flip-down desk in front of her. Probably the dating app she was talking about on Friday.
I’m in no position to judge. In a vague effort to be a good, attentive student I have a pen in one hand, and it’s hovering over a blank page on the desk in front of me. But my attention is with my other hand, in my lap, holding my phone, trying to decide if I should reply to Jake’s latest message.
I tried to ignore his text. I succeeded on Saturday. On Sunday, weakened by that eight thousand word report—which, by some miracle, I completed and submitted this morning—I succumbed. He replied immediately.
Wanna meet for coffee this week?
Yes. Yes I do. Of course I do. But no. No I don’t. I can’t. Because I can’t stand being rejected again.
This time, with full-blown adult attraction in the mix, rejection is sure to be worse. I don’t want to see girls throwing themselves at him. And I really don’t want to see how he responds to them.
And surely he’s busy with band stuff.
And his fans.
And I have a degree to focus on.
And I still want to see him. Even though I know it’s inevitably going to crush me.
Again.
I take a deep breath and slump back in my seat. Not easy when the seat is immovable, with no more than a centimetre of padding. Allowing my head to fall back and rest on the back of my chair, I turn my phone over in my hand, reaching out my other arm to scrawl some doodles on my notepad.
Flower. Bee. My name in swirly, artsy writing.
Treble clef.
A heart.
Oh, for God’s sake. I pull myself upright, resolving to rediscover my Sam side.
‘Who’s Jake?’
My stomach sinks. ‘Huh?’
Lexi puts her phone face-down on her desk and turns to me. ‘Jake. Your message. Who is he?’
I turn my phone over so it’s face-up again. ‘Just…someone. No one.’
‘He wants coffee with you.’
Sam shushes us.
Lexi is quite for a minute. I focus on taking notes, even though I know it’s a waste of time. Takes my mind off things for a bit, though.
‘Where did you meet?’ Of course she isn’t giving up.
‘He’s just someone from back home.’
‘Oh. Friday night white knight?’ She’s grinning now. ‘You should go.’
‘No, I don’t—’
‘Shut up!’ Another third year from behind hisses at us.
Lexi ignores him but lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘Why not?’
I look down at my phone. This is too complicated to explain in the middle of a lecture, and I’m not sure I even want to talk about it.
‘Is it because of that other one? The one who slipped you something?’
I shake my head. That hadn’t even crossed my mind. I feel like I should be more shaken up, but with barely any memory of the night, that report and Jake reappearing—and triggering this flood of emotions I thought were long in the past…well, I just haven’t had room to think about Friday night. ‘I just…I don’t know.’ I shrug my shoulders.
‘So go. Buy him a coffee,’ Lexi nudges me. ‘Is he hot?’
I look up at her and she’s grinning wickedly. I shove her playfully. ‘Okay. But only to thank him for Friday.’
She rolls her eyes at me while I open my messages and type out a reply.
Sure. Wednesday?
My Wednesday afternoons are always free for studying and catching up.
Less than a minute later: Sounds good.
Guess I’ll be studying Jake instead.
Jake
I DRUM MY fingers on the table. Wood. Pale. My heart rate is up and I have no idea why.
Okay, that’s bullshit. I know why.
Cerys Morgan. Before Friday night it’d been years since I’d last seen her. She looks so different now. I mean, the top of her head still barely grazes my shoulders, but she’s changed in other ways. Those curves…damn. I grab my bottle of water and take a swig, as if trying to cool myself. Jeez, girls don’t usually do this to me.
Least of all nerdy little Cerys.
I’m just worked up because of the danger she was in. That’s it. Still good friends after all this time, I suppose. It’s only natural to be a bit concerned for her wellbeing. Especially after all th
at shit with Ana.
An older woman on the table next to me coughs. I glance over at her and she’s looking back, pursing her lips. Annoyed. Her gaze moves to my drumming fingers.
Oh. Right. Guess that must be irritating. My fingers stop and I look at her apologetically, but she just huffs and returns to her broadsheet.
You’re fucking welcome.
The door swings open and a short blonde wearing light blue skinny jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and thick-framed glasses walks in. She’s more than a bit windswept, if her hair is any indication. It’s surprisingly hot. She sees me and I start to smile and lean forward…but she walks straight to the counter in the opposite direction.
Well, she’s here. And still feisty.
She looks at the cakes and sandwiches in the glass case next to the counter, bending slightly to see better. Her hips catch the eye of a man reading a newspaper on the other side of the room. The urge to go over and throw him out for daring to look at her like that comes as a minor shock to me, but I know I have no place to be getting all possessive. Much as I want to.
Cerys is at the counter now, pointing to something in the glass case and looking at the board behind the barista. She pays with a card and less than a minute later she heads over to my table empty handed. She sits down and says nothing, awkwardly crossing her right leg over her left.
Thick thighs. Damn.
‘Didn’t you just buy something?’
‘Yeah, they’re bringing it in a second.’
‘Oh.’
My phone lights up. Text. Someone called Kirsty? I skim read and realise it’s the redhead from Friday night. She’s got my number. She wants to meet up.
For fuck’s sake, Harry.
Cerys watches me as I pick up my phone and shove it into my pocket.
Before I can gather my thoughts, a waitress sets a slice of chocolate cake and a take-away cup of tea down on the table. ‘Sorry, we’ve run out of mugs,’ she says apologetically.
‘That’s OK,’ Cerys smiles back, ‘I prefer these cups.’ The waitress leaves and she picks up a fork, angling it at the cake.
My eyes meet hers. ‘Still a chocoholic, I see.’
‘Always.’ She takes a large forkful. ‘Jealous?’
