“I was not!”
“No?”
“Wait—do you mean Botany Bay in Sydney? Or is there one here too?”
His smile widens, eyes crinkling. “There is. But it’s a long walk up the coast. The other one,” he adds dryly, “would require a very committed swim.”
I swat his arm. “You’re impossible.”
He chuckles. “So, where shall we go? The Australian coastline? Or yourcottage?”
“The cottage will do,” I mutter.
“Very well.”
Flustered, I let him take the lead.
But only for a moment. A thrill runs through me, heady and alive, as I fall into step beside him. Soon, I’m ahead of him, practically skipping, elated to finally be moving in the direction that I want to go.
10
Strung Too Tight
Lily-Anne
We decide to return to the beach, bundled up in windcheaters against the chill. Mine’s borrowed from Brandon, the sleeves too long and smelling faintly of him and the sea. He’s carrying a picnic rug and a thermos of coffee. I’ve got my guitar case in hand, swinging it with purpose.
The rug doesn’t do much to soften the pebbles, but we settle onto it anyway, knees brushing as we face the moonlit sea.
I unlatch the case and remove the Cole Clark, the blackwood cold to the touch.
Brandon doesn’t say anything, not even to ask what I plan to play. He just waits, long legs stretched in front of him, hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he stares out at the water.
I brush my fingers over the strings, relishing the familiar ring as it shivers through the wood and into my hands. I position my fingers on the fretboard.
And play.
It’s not one of Toby’s clever arrangements, nor a formal classical piece. Just something simple. Something of mine. It’s a song I started writing years ago but never quite finished.
Midway through the intro, I stop. My hands are stiff, and I’m all too aware of Brandon listening, even if his gaze is fixed on the sea. He’s the only person to hear this song since I showed it to Toby, who called it ‘too sentimental, too emotional, too Taylor Swift’.
“I’m a little rusty,” I apologise. “I haven’t played since I quit the ensemble six weeks ago.”
Brandon glances at me, recognition in his eyes. “That’s when you left Toby.”
I nod.
“That’s a significant upheaval.”
I shrug. “I think it was a good change.”
“I agree,” he says. “But even good changes can come with stress.”
I hesitate. “I don’t feel stressed. Just…blocked.”
His mouth curves, like he knows something I don’t.
“I’m not stressed,” I say, then snort softly. Maybe I am.
