“Garlic aioli, by any chance?” It was one of his favourite sauces. The information acquired about a person over time was interesting.
“Got it in one. I made you beetroot and goat’s cheese.”
Which was my favourite. “You made them?”
“I am capable of making a sandwich.”
“An edible one?”
“Really? You have that little faith in my cooking skills? I’m proficient in more than one department, you know.” His wink told me exactly what he was referring to.
I remembered what he was referring to only too well, which was a shame, really. He’d been eighteen and that time had wrecked me for any other man since, not that I’d told Caleb that.
“Well, you’re not alluding to cleaning, are you? Maybe fixing boats? Or something that happened a long time ago that I can barely remember.” Lie.
“Shall we take a selfie before we set off or do you want to wait until after I’ve eaten? My sandwich is smothered in aioli.” He opened his arms in an over-dramatic fashion.
I freed my phone from out of my pocket and stepped into his arms, stretching out my arm to take the photo.
Caleb posed confidently, staring at the screen, then pressing his lips to my cheek, my smile beaming without needing to be forced. He looked like a doting boyfriend and I was grinning like this was the best day ever.
When he let go, I felt the cold nip for the first time.
“We should carry on.”
“Need me to carry you, Rave?” The old nickname, short for Raven.
“I can manage, just about.” I proceeded to give him my usual spiel about how hard touring was, and we entered a competition about who had it harder, our usual debate, that carried us right to the top.
Ten Years Ago
“Are you sure we’re allowed to walk up here?” I wasn’t convinced because it looked like we were in a farmer’s field and through the gap in the hedge I could see at least one bull. It could’ve been a cow, but my gut told me it was a bull. My gut also told me I should be heading back the other way.
“Do you think it’s going to rain?” The girl Caleb was kind of seeing gazed at him as if he could produce a full meteorological report on the spot. She was called Angel, probably short for Angela, and I could see why she was his latest casual girlfriend. She was the same height as me, five nine or so, and had the sort of bone structure that would’ve had my mother trying to set up a modelling agency. Long dark hair and long dark eyelashes made her look exotic even though she was from Birmingham and had a slight Black Country twang. Angel was a student at Caleb’s university, studying English which she was passionate about, although what she really wanted to do was to act.
It was the first time I’d really met anyone Caleb was dating, most of the time if he was seeing someone and I was visiting the island, he’d put off seeing them when I was around, so this time was different, and I’d figured why.
“We can walk up here; it’s a public footpath but I know the farmer who owns the fields anyway.” He grinned at me, glancing to where the bulls were, knowing exactly why I was trying to find an excuse to turn back around. “And it’s not going to do any more than spit.” He gave Angel a different grin, one which held secrets and promises.
I looked away, preparing to meet my fate with the bulls, which was possibly a better option than watching Caleb fawn over Angel.
The third wheel was a very accurate label right now, and as much as I wanted to hang out with my best friend, I didn’t want the payoff for that to be watching him and his latest booty call make cow eyes at each other.
“They’re not bulls.” Caleb had stridden over to me. “They’re cows and they’ll move when we go over the style.”
“How do you know they’re not bulls?”
“Because they don’t have penises.”
He had a point.
A whiff of trendy perfume warned me that Angel was near. I braced myself and smiled, something I was pre-programmed to do when usually meeting the bosses at my record label.
“I think those cows are cute.” Angel gave me a smile that was equally as false. “Although I’m not sure why you want to hang out here with them when you could be in New York or L.A. or somewhere glamorous.”
I snided a glance at Caleb who was unsurprisingly looking away.
“I like the change of scenery and a chance to be authentic. If you spend too much time in London, L.A. and New York you lose something of yourself. This is where I feel most at home.” It wasn’t a lie, although I wasn’t proud of showing off where I did hang out.
