“Then he’s a fool. Let’s go somewhere we can get a drink and talk.” I waved at one of the other research students I’d flown out with. We were finished for the day, although it was only just past noon. “You can tell me about Robbie and I can hire a hitman.”
“He’s okay. He works for the promoter for the latest tour and I thought he was fun.” She carried on, telling me how he’d taken her out for a meal then expected her to pay, asking her to book a suite for him on her money so he could stay somewhere better than where his company had put him up.
I kept my clenched fists out of her sight and listened, like I’d done in the past, wondering why people were so fucking superficial.
We went snorkelling afterwards, her heart spilled out so we needed something to set everything right again.
She held my hand while we snorkelled, making it awkward but the same time making everything right.
It always was when she was there.
Zoey
Iwas humming while walking around the house that Caleb was viewing for a second time, a song I’d been toying with for Josh taking up head space. We’d been living at Mavis’ for a week now, cooped up in the little house like two students, no room for any of our own stuff – not that Caleb had much besides the sofa – and making do, which was still fun at the moment. The novelty was going to wear off though, and, if I was honest, I would’ve liked more space so we didn’t have to get to know each other like this quite as quickly.
We were both house hunting, scouring the nearby coastline for houses that were coming onto the market. I’d seen a couple of properties that would’ve been ideal rentals, and I was kind of leaning that way until the perfect place came up. Caleb was pickier, wanting something that had its own jetty and boathouse because that would make life easier for him in the long run. He’d boat to the university when he needed to be there, which automatically put him in a better frame of mind because he lived to be at sea. He wasn’t looking for something necessarily as big as I was. I wanted room for other artists to be able to stay so we could work together on music. Puffin Bay was an ideal place for them to escape, with the gentle pace of life that faded into the background meaning it was easier to focus on being creative. It was why I’d returned here – that and Caleb.
No one knew that we weren’t pretending any more, or at least I didn’t think they knew. Since we’d got back to Puffin Bay, all talk had been about the flat and the two days with no pub kitchen and not about us. I was still amazed by how small towns gossiped and the focus changed so quickly. Throw in Finn’s eldest kid having appendicitis, and Clover choking on an olive which lead to Grayson having to do the Heimlich, and we were no longer the headline news.
So I could enjoy having to share a bed with Caleb in secret. I daydreamed about this morning as he and Roman paced from room to room, discussing windows and supporting walls and planning permission. Personally, I thought this house was too small, but this wasn’t about me.
And I was too absorbed in the song, which was definitely being inspired by this morning’s sex.
I’d never had as much sex in my life before. Sitting together on the small floral sofa led to cuddling, which led to me riding Caleb, desecrating Mavis’s favourite crocheting spot with a much steamier memory. We’d found passing each other in the narrow kitchen could only happened if we touched each other, which led to kitchen counter sex, and the small double bed that we’d decided to share rather than Caleb take up the single bed in the boxroom was perfect for lazy middle of the night sex which was my favourite. It was all becoming the best benefit of being friends.
“I don’t think this is the right place.” Caleb came back into the kitchen with Roman, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel right.”
Roman shrugged. “If it doesn’t feel right that’s that then. What do you think, Zoey?”
“I don’t think it’s big enough in the long term. And you’re sharing a jetty, which is going to annoy you at some point.” I was well aware of Caleb’s grumpiness over certain things and how other people looked after and used their boats was often a sticking point for him.
Caleb stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched me. I was still humming, the refrain of the song I was working on replaying on a loop along with a tingle when I remember what’d inspired the song.
“There’s nothing else that’s remotely suitable.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and folded his arms. “I’m in Antarctica straight after Christmas – I don’t know where I’ll be coming back to after that.”
“The flat will be ready before Christmas. You can always stay back at home, or I can book you out the suite at the hotel. You’re hardly going to be homeless.” Roman shook his head at his son, who could sometimes be a little dramatic.
“You can stay with me.” The words were out before I’d considered what they could imply. Maybe saying them in front of his dad wasn’t the best idea.
Caleb nodded, arms still folded and didn’t respond.
My heart sank.
I wasn’t looking forward to him being away for six weeks in the Antarctic, which was ironic given how much I’d been away on tour.
My phone chose that moment to vibrate in my jeans’ back pocket. It was Roe Holland, someone who rarely phoned anyone.
My heart started to thud, and I felt prickling travel up my spine, light headedness making me lean against the kitchen units.
There was only one reason Roe Holland was phoning me.
“Hey.” I tried to sound upbeat. “Is everything okay?” I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice.
“Put him on speaker.” Caleb strode over to me, his arm going round my waist.
“Who else is there?” Roe was cautious as always.
“Just my dad,” Caleb said, still holding me even though there was no one there that we needed to pretend to. “What’s happened?”
