And then it’s just me and Cameron. “She seems so nice,” I tell him. “Are you two friends?”
“Went to the village school together,” he mutters and then doesn’t elaborate. There’s a few seconds of awkward silence. The firelight licks the side of his face, highlighting his ruffled hair.
“Um. That’s cool. And this is a really nice pub,” I try.
He grunts, staring at the tabletop.
“Do you come here often?”
Another grunt.
Okay. I sigh. I guess we should address the elephant in the room. “So,” I start, “I…suppose you saw the video? Um. I don’t really have an excuse, but?—”
“Are you safe?” he interrupts, his eyes fixed on the table.
“What?”
“Fraser said people are writing shit about you. Online. Did you want to hide up here because they’re threatening you?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Not really.”
His green eyes finally meet mine. They’re fringed with unfairly dark lashes. “Define ‘not really.’”
His gaze is so intense that I think I preferred when he wasn’t looking at me. “Well, I mean, death threats are sort of par for the course in this job. Like, I got ‘you’re fugly, off yourself’ DMs the last time I wore a colour that didn’t suit me. But they’re notserious.”
Something comes over him. He seems to get bigger in his chair, and his hunched shoulders bristle. “Youwhat?” he demands.
Before I can answer, a low voice booms behind me. “Hiya, darlin’!”
I look up. A handsome man in a wet raincoat is staggering up to our table, two pints in his hands. He’s absolutely hammered. He smiles down at me. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one?”
“Oh! Hello. Thank you.” I plaster on a smile as I try to subtly scoot away from him.
“Get to, Hamish,” Cameron snaps.
“Not seen you around these parts before,” Hamish slurs, his glassy eyes still fixed on me. “D’you fancy a bevvy? Why don’t you ditch McLeod and join me and the lads by the bar, eh?”
“Oh, er, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Hamish,” Cameron barks. “Go away. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Hamish leans in closer. I tense as his yeasty breath spreads over my face, fighting to keep my smile intact.
Cameron’s chair pushes out with a grating noise, and he grabs a handful of Hamish’s coat. “Get to fuck,” he says in the other man’s face.
Hamish grins uneasily. “All right! All right. Jesus. Didn’t realise she was yours, mate. Sorry.” He gives me a massive wink and stumbles off, almost falling over a chair as he goes.
Cameron watches him leave and then sits down again, jaw tense.
“Phew. Thanks,” I say.
“Why do you do that?” he demands.
“Do what?” I need to do something with my hands, so I pull out a tube of my Frosted Candy lip gloss and reapply it. I can feel Cameron’s eyes intent on me.
“That…thing you do.” He waves a hand at my face. “You go all…smiley and sparkly.”
It takes me a second to work out what he means. “Why do Ismile?” I recap the gloss. Cameron watches.
