A warm hand grazes my shoulder.
“Lily-Anne. We’re here.”
Brandon’s deep voice slides through the haze of sleep, smooth and velvety. Not the worst thing to wake up to.
I open bleary eyes. He’s standing by my car door, the overcast light catching the lines of his face.
“The service station?” I mumble.
“No. Whitstable. I need to move the car—someone’s stolen my parking space. But I’ll let you into the house with your luggage first.”
I shiver as he steps back, a cool draught meeting me.
We’re parked in front of the narrow houses I saw online, their pastel colours even lovelier in person—postcard-perfect as they face the North Sea. The water is a muted sheet of grey-blue beneath the cloudy midday light, bordered by a shingle beach, though from here the pebbles gleam like sand. Air tinged with the smell of seaweed cools my face as I take it all in, a part of me yearning to explore.
“Oh, how pretty,” I murmur, stepping out of the car and drawing my cardigan close.
I turn to see Brandon watching me, the breeze ruffling his brown hair, my suitcase and backpack beside him. He’s holding the guitar case tentatively, waiting for me to take it.
Embarrassment prickles as I remember how I reacted at the airport when he offered to carry it.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the handle. Our fingers brush briefly—just for a second. He only nods and starts towards the blue cottage, but as he climbs the steps, his hand flexes, and a shiver skims acrossmine.
“This is us,” he says, pulling out his keys.
“Not the pink one?” I tease, nodding to the neighbouring house. It’s veryLegally Blonde,its matching garden of bubblegum-pink roses creeping through Brandon’s neat hedgerow.
“That belongs to the neighbours, Rupert and Barbara.” He gives me a wary look. “You’ll be invited over there soon enough, if you aren’t careful.”
“You make it sound ominous.”
“Yes, that was my intention.”
His expression is deadpan, though the corner of his mouth twitches as he unlocks the door. He wheels my suitcase inside, then ducks back out.
“Make yourself at home—feel free to look around. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The hallway smells of cedar, timber floors warmed by cinnamon-brown walls. A coastal-blue runner mutes my steps as I set down my guitar case and bags.
In the kitchen, white cabinets and modern appliances gleam. Glass doors open onto a shady patio with cushioned chairs around a wrought-iron table. At its centre, a dark aqua bowl with gold, marble-like veins catches the light. Its beauty feels a little peculiar, sitting outside like that. Beyond it is a narrow-fenced garden of lawn and trees.
Off the hall is a living room. A flatscreen TV hangs on the wall, but the blue couch points towards the window’s view of the sea. A stack of travel books sits on the coffee table. No speakers, no vinyl, no photos—nothing to suggest he enjoys music. I’d hoped for at least an instrument.
A closed door at the back likely leads to his bedroom, but I return to the kitchen, unwilling to pry.
I sit at the island bench and message Mum and Ellenor to say I’ve arrived. Ellenor replies instantly with emojis. Mum’s typing lingers for a long while, and I brace for a thesis, but all she says is,Thanks, love. Glad you’re safe. Talk soon.
I send her an extra heart and pocket my phone just as Brandon steps back into the hall. He hangs his coat on a hook before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
“Found a parking space?” I ask.
“Barely—just outside Kent.”
It takes me a moment to realise he’s joking.
“A few streets away,” he clarifies.
“Oh, right.” I stand, gesturing around. “Your place is nice, by the way.”
