“Where are you now?” he cuts in, voice rougher, more urgent than I’ve ever heard it.
“At a pub…” I read the faded lettering on the door. “The Walrus and the Oyster?Does that sound right?”
“I know the one.” Then, calmer, more certain: “Stay where you are. I’m coming.”
I start to thank him, but he’s already hung up.
***
It takes him just over five minutes to find me.
I’m immensely glad to see him, and the knot in my chest immediately unwinds. I hurry up the steps, stopping short of hugging him.
“Thank you for coming,” I say gratefully.
“Are you alright?” he asks, scanning me as if expecting injuries.
I nod. “Yes. I just got a bit scared. I thought I was being followed, but it was just some drunk watching something on his phone.”
His eyes flick over me. “You’re out late.”
I freeze. “Oh—right. I, um…” My voice catches. “I was just practising for the gig with Willoughby. Lost track of time.”
I don’t know why my face heats, but it does. It was only a kiss—one stupid kiss—but I suddenly feel like Brandon can see straight through me, as if Willoughby’s kiss is somehow stamped on my lips. I almost lift a hand to wipe them, as if I can erase the evidence before he sees it there.
He doesn’t react, but I still squirm in my seat.
“Jack didn’t walk you home?” he asks after a beat, the question careful, almost too casual.
“I don’t know. He didn’t offer. And I didn’t ask.”
He frowns faintly, eyes still on the road.
I drop my gaze. “I feel silly now. I’m sorry you had to come get me.”
His frown deepens as he glances at me. “You don’t have to explain why you felt uneasy—or apologise for it. On some level, your instincts sensed danger. That’s reason enough.” He turns the corner and gives me another quick glance.
His words settle, smoothing the jagged edges of what I was feeling. He’s right.
“Thanks for saying that,” I whisper.
“Of course. Anytime.”
I release the breath trapped in my lungs. I’m suddenly exhausted, my limbs heavy with the crash of adrenaline.
The drive is short, the hum of tyres and wind filling the silence.
My phone vibrates as he pulls onto our lane.
Ellenor:Sorry, I was showering. What’s up? You okay?
Lily-Anne:Yep, all good. I’ll be home soon
I pocket my phone. Thinking of Ellenor brings the red roses back to mind, and in my raw state, I nearly blurt out a question to Brandon, asking if he really meant to get them for her.
Common sense prevails. I know how pitiful I would sound: me, jealous of my sister. I can’t bear to make a fool of myself with Brandon again. Three strikes and I’m done; I’ll die of humiliation and respawn in Sydney.
Besides, how could I possibly ask about the flowers when, not even an hour ago, I was kissing Willoughby?
