by Vicky Owen
Stubborn. Headstrong. At least with music. Especially with the melody.
‘We’ll sort out the lyrics. Got some paper? Pen?’ Harry jumps up and has a look around.
‘“We”?’ I scoff. ‘I’m the lyricist,’ I toss a cushion at Harry, catching him on the shoulder, ‘and I need a melody first.’ Harry picks it up and tosses it back before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and sinking back into the sofa.
‘Fine.’ He takes a bite out of the fruit. ‘So, who’s that girl?’
Cerys immediately comes to mind, but he can’t be talking about her.
Oh yeah. The redhead. ‘I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one who sent her over. And gave her my number, I noticed.’ I give him a serious look. ‘Thanks, by the way,’ I add dryly.
‘You’re welcome,’ he beams, taking a second bite. ‘But I didn’t mean her. Someone posted a photo online: you, in town, with some blonde.’
Definitely Cerys. Great. So much for my effort to keep her out of the mess of my fame. I pull out my phone to check our feeds, just to be sure.
Damn.
‘Oh,’ I try, casually, ‘no one. Just a friend from back home.’
He takes another bite. ‘She’s cute. Single?’
No way. I shoot him a look. He raises his hands, one holding the half eaten apple, in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay.’
‘Don’t even think about it.’ She deserves to be treated well, not like another notch on his bedpost.
Not how I treated her yesterday. I’m still not entirely sure what came over me. Guess I figured if she was off limits I could maybe get her out of my mind, and that dude seemed nice enough. Less complicated than me. No media, no fucked-up history with her. Something came over me and I couldn’t help myself, but as soon as I saw those panties…
I want her. I want her for myself.
‘So. Just a friend, you say?’ Harry’s watching me with a half-smile. A knowing smile. Is he reading my mind now?
Ignoring him, I stand up and head over to the kitchen. ‘Drink?’
He laughs and shakes his head, looking down momentarily. ‘Sure.’ He gets up and tosses his apple core in the bin before grabbing the remote and flicking the TV on, sinking back onto the sofa. I drop a bottle in his hand before sitting back down.
‘Movie?’ He asks, checking the interactive guide. Before I can respond, he chooses one and puts it on. ‘The sequel for this is out tomorrow. I’m taking that girl from Low.’ He grins wickedly.
I take a sip of cold cider and give him a sideways glance. ‘You know, there are less risky ways to get head.’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Harry flashes his eyebrows at me. Typical Harry. I’m about to ask him if he wants to order pizza when: ‘Fucked Kirsty yet?’
I pause for a second, then get my phone out and open the app to order food. ‘Do you ever think of anything other than fucking?’
‘Did you?’ He takes a swig of his drink.
‘No. And why did you give her my number?’
‘Thought you’d appreciate it.’ He pauses, almost hesitating. ‘But you’ve got your blonde now, eh?’
My eyes narrow at him. ‘Don’t.’ Firmer than last time. ‘And she has a name.’
‘Oh yeah?’ He sits up straighter, leaning forward slightly. With anyone else he wouldn’t care, but it’s unusual for me to share details.
‘Yes. Now, you want pizza or not?’
He sinks back into the sofa, knowing from experience that he won’t be getting more out of me than that. ‘What a stupid name,’ he grins, enjoying his own terrible joke. ‘And yeah. Garlic bread with cheese, too. Oh, and those wedges they do.’
I choose to ignore the name quip. Harry turns the volume up and settles into the movie.
The order takes less than a minute to send and pay for. I’m about to put the phone on the arm of the chair, but then I have an idea. Opening my messages, I start a composing a text to Cerys. I owe her an apology.
And I want to see her again.
I’m sorry about yesterday. I don’t know what came over me.
Send.
Two minutes pass.
Then: You’re such a dick.
That makes me smile to myself. I type back.
Jake: Let me make it up to you. Movie tomorrow night?
Cerys: Maybe I already have plans :P
Jake: Cancel them.
Cerys: Why don’t you just take that lingerie girl?
Jake: Are you jealous? ;)
She doesn’t respond for a few minutes. I send another.
Jake: I’d much rather go with you.
Cerys: Maybe. Ask me again tomorrow.
I put my phone back down and look over to Harry. His eyes meet mine and he raises an eyebrow. I’m seriously starting to wonder if he’s a mind reader.
We both turn back to the movie, saying nothing for a few minutes. My mind drifts and I wonder what I’m doing. Did I just ask her on a date? She’s available, I reason with myself. But available for what? And anyway, I don’t even know for sure what I want.
‘Cerys.’ The sound of my voice surprises even me.
‘Sorry?’
Unsure if I was answering my own unspoken thoughts or speaking to Harry, I decide to just go with the latter regardless.
‘Her name,’ I say. ‘It’s Cerys.’
Cerys
‘I’M STARTING THE demo in thirty seconds whether you’re ready or not.’
Dr Lee’s attempt to hurry us up is largely ignored as we exchange overcoats for lab coats, claiming partners and bench spots. Sam is the exception, already waiting anxiously for me at our usual bench.
Two minutes later, our practical group gathers around a bench at the front of the lab. Sam and I get a spot near the back. It’s a deliberate choice by me: I want the barrier of the other students, to be shielded from the sharp eyes of Dr Lee by a sea of white Howie coats, each one spattered with the experiments and practical classes of the past two years. Usually we’d be close to the front for the best view, and Sam’s discomfort at this change of routine is almost palpable, but I’m distracted this morning.
Jake. Obviously.
I know I shouldn’t go. Not after Wednesday afternoon. I hate that he still sees me as the nerdy tomboy who needs help getting a man interested. He might be right, but I don’t want his help. I’m really annoyed with myself too. All this obsessing isn’t like me. I really thought I’d grown out of this.
Sam nudges me, pulling me out of my own head. ‘You listening?’ she whispers.
No. ‘Yes.’ Sam loathes lab work, but it’s just a protein assay and the written instructions are in our practical booklets. Easy.
She seems to accept my answer and turns back to the demonstration taking place several rows of people away. Her face is neutral, but I know she’s worried, and not just about the protein assay. She submitted her application for graduate entry medicine two weeks ago—far more competitive than any of the PhDs I’m thinking of applying for. All her module results to date have been well above the seventy percent minimum needed for a first class honours, and she’s got plenty of work experience on top of that, but she’s terrified of her average percentage dropping this year. I feel shamefully lazy in comparison.
I lean towards her slightly. ‘Have you heard anything yet?’ I whisper.
‘No,’ she frowns. ‘Some people have interview offers already.’
‘Sam, I’m sure you’ll get an interview.’ The truth. But she looks at me with worry in her dark eyes and I understand. I’m worried too, and reassurance does nothing to calm my fears that I’ll fail to secure funding for the PhD I want to do. Unfortunately for me, research is what I’ve always wanted to do. This—I look around the lab with its stained benches, ceiling burns, PCR machines, trays of pipette tips, packs of gloves, and glassware in all shapes and sizes—is where I belong. Practical work makes me happy. Arguing over findings makes me happy. And sometimes I even like the work of writing it all up afterwards.
Now Jake is back, threat
ening to distract me entirely. What I wouldn’t give to have him pull me close again, to feel his arms around me and his scent enveloping me. Closing my eyes and letting the recent memory wash over me, I almost allow a smile to form on my lips. But then I remember Wednesday again and the way he pushed me towards Liam. Good feelings are replaced by confusion at him and frustration with myself for letting him have this effect on me, and I frown at my own weakness. He’s already making me lose focus on my work and I’m barely one week in.
I should pay attention.
Focus on what matters right now.
But suddenly everyone around me is moving, voices rising as fellow students begin to delegate tasks between each other. Instructions have been given from the front, the demonstration is over and it’s time to start. Sam is already back at our bench, flicking through the practical booklet, no doubt double-checking everything before we start.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my lab coat and start walking over. We get three hours to do the practical, but it shouldn’t take that long. They never do. My left hand wraps around the mobile phone in my pocket, and force of habit leads me to pull it out and check for messages.
One unread message.
Jake.
Ever been to an IMAX? Pick you up at eight.
So fucking presumptive. For a second I consider replying and telling him not to bother. Instead, I shove my phone back into my pocket and decide to decide later.
At least I wouldn’t have to find my own way there.
‘YOU LOOK NICE. Where are you going?’
Lexi gets up from the sofa and follows me back to my room.
‘Nowhere.’ I open the my wardrobe and reach for my boots, towards the back.
Lexi leans against the door frame and folds her arms across her chest, giving me an I-don’t-believe-you look. ‘Uh huh.’
My hand finds my boots and I pull them out, sitting down on the edge of the bed and avoiding eye contact. It’s no use. ‘Okay, fine. I’m going to see a movie.’
‘Ooh, a date,’ she grins, coming to sit next to me as I pull the right boot onto my foot and up my leg.
‘No,’ I say slowly, carefully zipping my boot up so it doesn’t catch on my jeans. ‘Just a friend.’
‘Oh, so does that mean I can come?’
‘No!’ The defensive response is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Lexi smirks at me. Damn her.
‘You look nice.’ She says.
‘It’s just jeans,’ I say, zipping up the left boot. I stand up and smooth down my top, then adjust my waistband so that my jeans are sitting properly before walking over to the little mirror on the dresser. Lexi crosses her legs as I take off my glasses to put on some make up.
‘No.’ She suddenly gets up and comes over, ‘Don’t overdo it. Maybe some red lippy at most.’ She fingers through my vanity case and pulls out some pinky-red lip stain.
My mobile vibrates on the dresser and the screen lights up. Jake.
I’m outside.
Lexi sees the message before I can respond, and she goes to the window. ‘Nice car.’ She squints, trying to see a bit better. ‘He looks good from here. Do I know him? Feel like I’ve seen him somewhere…’ She trails off, then suddenly gasps. ‘Oh my God, that’s Jake Norton!’ She spins back around to look at me. ‘You know Jake Norton? Jake freaking Norton is the friend you’ve been talking about?’
Glasses back on, I reach over and gently take the lip stain she’s still holding in her hand. ‘I told you No Reckless were in Low last weekend.’
‘You didn’t say your friend was in the band. And he took you home. And you had a coffee date on Wednesday.’ She stops suddenly, clearly thinking. ‘You were the blonde on Twitter!’ She slumps onto the bed, with more than a little melodrama. ‘I feel so betrayed. My best friend is dating a rock star and she never even said.’
‘Wednesday wasn’t a date. We’re not dating. We’re just old friends,’ I sigh, shoving my phone in my pocket and unscrewing the cap on the lip stain.
‘Tonight is definitely a date. No one looks this good for a friend. No one wears sexy red lipstick for a friend,’ she says as I dab some of the stain onto my lips.
‘This was your idea, not—’
My phone vibrates again, and I know it’s Jake without even checking.
‘Okay, I’ve really got to go. See you later.’ I start heading for the door.
Lexi suddenly leaps back up and follows. ‘I want all the details when you get back.’
Opening the door I turn back to her and raise an eyebrow. ‘There’ll be no details.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ She gives a dismissive wave of her hand, clearly not believing a word I say. ‘Just remember to text me if you’re staying out tonight.’ She’s grinning now.
I pause for a moment, and then: ‘Just don’t tweet any of this.’
‘I won’t.’
After giving her one last look I leave the flat, running quickly down the stairs and outside, realising I feel a bit queasy with nerves.
‘Hey,’ Jake says as I get in the car and close the door. My heart rate is up, and not because of the rush from the flat.
After buckling my seat belt, I look up at him. ‘Hey.’
For a moment he just looks at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. It does nothing to slow my pulse. His face is so familiar, but I never get used to how beautiful it is. It’s always disarming when I see him again for the first time.
Without saying another word, Jake turns back to the road and we’re pulling away. The drive is quiet for a few minutes—just some music playing softly on the radio. It’s a comfortable quiet, but I still feel like I should say something.
‘I’m sorry.’ Jake’s voice suddenly breaks the silence between us.
‘Sorry?’ I’m confused.
‘Wednesday. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…’ He goes quiet for a moment, maybe not quite knowing what to say. ‘I stepped over the line,’ he says finally.
‘Oh. Thanks.’ It’s quiet again for a few minutes. I don’t really know what else to say.
‘You look nice,’ he says, breaking the silence for a second time. I look over at him, but his eyes are on the road. ‘Pretty.’ He adds.
Pretty?
He’s just wearing jeans and t-shirt. The t-shirt clings to his body, his broad shoulders and chest visible underneath. His hair is the usual mess of dark coffee colours.
Effortlessly cool.
Effortlessly hot.
I shift in my seat, feeling a little over-dressed in comparison. It’s the lip colour. I want to pull down the visor and check how noticeable it is, but I’d really rather just be cool about it.
‘Uh, thank you. You too.’ I realise how ridiculous that sounds as I say it and cringe internally. Jake raises an eyebrow, smiling. ‘Nice, I mean,’ I hurriedly add, cursing myself silently.
CHAPTER 7
Cerys
‘SO, BEEN HERE before?’
Jake turns into the car park and smoothly pulls into a space. He turns off the engine and looks at me.
‘Of course.’ A half-truth. I’ve been to the retail park but not to the actual IMAX. There are at least two regular, cheaper cinemas in town, both of which are within walking distance of the flat. Add in student discount and it’s no contest, really, despite the inferior screens.
‘Cool, let’s go.’
I climb out of the passenger side and start heading to the entrance.
‘Wait.’ Jake puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me. His touch is soft and electric at the same time. ‘This way.’ His hand moves to my upper back, sending sparks down my spine, gently changing my direction. He pulls out his mobile as he heads towards one of the doors at the back of the building. He thumbs at a few keys, then holds the phone to his ear. ‘We’ve arrived.’
A moment later, the door opens and a middle-aged man is welcoming us inside. ‘Welcome, Mr Norton,’ he smiles before spotting me. ‘And your date, I presume?’ He looks me up and down, his facial expression indicati
ng he thinks Jake can do way better.
I glare back. Yeah, I know.
Jake ignores the date comment and leans down to my ear. ‘Perks of being a celebrity,’ he says, his voice low and his breath teasing my neck as he guides me through the door before him, his hand on my lower back. Heat radiates from the spot where his hand touches me and sinks below my belly. It’s infuriating that he can touch me so casually, like it means nothing to him, while my body reacts with need.
For a moment, I wonder if he’s lying. Not so much a celebrity perk as a way to avoid being seen again in public with me. To avoid another photo posted online. The realisation leaves me feeling cold and stupid.
Rejected.
I don’t want to feel like this. I want to still be angry for Wednesday and for the way he threw away our friendship. Surely, after so much time passing and the memory of his indifference to Ana being such an unstable bitch towards me, any lingering attraction I felt for him should be long dead.
Apparently not.
‘You okay?’ He’s looking at me, concerned.
‘Of course.’ I plaster a smile across my face. Just trying to figure out what I want here, I add silently. And what you want.
The screen is already dark as we enter and Jake whispers something to our guide before taking my hand and leading me to some secluded seats at the back. The shock of his hand holding mine almost causes me to snatch it back, and I’m instantly hyper-aware of every tiny movement both of our hands make. It feels like one wrong twitch will break the spell.
Within seconds of us sitting down, an attendant brings us drinks and a huge bucket of popcorn. ‘Sweet,’ she smiles, handing it to Jake. I frown at him. Sweet?
‘The popcorn,’ he says, as if reading my mind. ‘Prefer salted myself, but I’ll tolerate this sweet crap for you.’ He tilts the bucket towards me. I loosen my grip on his hand in order to take some, but he squeezes my hand in return before letting go.
He remembered I don’t like salted popcorn.
Was Lexi right? Is this a date? It doesn’t really feel like a date. It feels like I’m seeing a movie with an old friend who doesn’t want to actually be seen with me.
