“At least leave your guitar!” she shouts as I cross the quiet road.
I hitch it higher on my back. “I might play it!”
Another lie. I won’t.
“You won’t,” Toby agrees.
***
The beach is almost empty, just the hush of tide over shingle and the wind curling my hair. Pebbles shift beneath my ballet flats as I walk, the cottage roofs shrinking into the dark.
This wasn’t how tonight was meant to go. I thought Ellenor and Brandon would be at the gig with me—maybe Sean too—and we’d all grab a few drinks to celebrate our last night. Even Jack, I hoped, would say a quick goodbye.
The distant clouds bruise darker, the air cooling. I should have brought a jacket, or at least my cardigan. I keep walking, half-hoping the storm will reach me.
A bit of rain won’t hurt. Not more than Jack has.
It’s eerily quiet. It makes me yearn for home—for the crashing waves of Manly Beach that can knock the breath out of you.
This is another world. The sea lies still here, smooth as a mirror.
Jack’s face keeps flashing in my mind, his smile so charming that I let him manipulate me. It felt good to have someone believe in me; to tell me what to do so I wouldn’t have to think.
“And this is the price,” I mutter.
I don’t realise how far I’ve walked until the slipway appears.
A cold gust flicks my hair as I set the gig bag down and pull my guitar out. I carry it down the rough incline, the cobblestones slick with seaweed, until the sea brushes the toes of my glittery shoes.
I sit, legs crossed and lungs tight.
The last thing I want to do is play when I feel so gutted, but Jack’s threat makes it vital that I do. My fingers hover, uncertain, but then muscle memory takes over. I start fingerpicking a soft pattern, just something to keep my hands busy. Tentative notes.
Suddenly, a small promise sparks in my chest: I’m going to play, even when I don’t feel like it.
My breathing falls into the rhythm, in and out, following the melody, my agitation sinking into a raw calm.
The last time I was here was with Brandon.
Hebelieved in me, without noise or empty flattery. His faith was something I could lean on.
And if he did have feelings for me—if all those little moments meant what Ellenor thinks they do—then he wasn’t holding back because he wasn’t interested. He was holding back because he was giving me space. Space I didn’t even realise I needed until now.
Because what happened with Jack… God, it hurts so much more than it should. Even though we only went on one date—three, if I count the castle and the barbecue—I’ve trusted him for weeks. Letting him read my songs. Letting him in. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready to have someone break my trust again.
The song ends, and I pick up a pebble and flick it towards the water, trying to skip it the way Brandon once did.
Plop.
I smile ruefully, thinking of how he’d chuckle if he were here.
The wind lifts goose bumps across my arms, seeping through the thin fabric of my dress and making me shiver. I huddle behind my guitar, wishing for my cardigan.
Wishing, stupidly, for Brandon.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over his name.
“Don’t bother him. Why would he want to hear from you now?”
