The smile came back. “I have to speak to my manager. The label has sent an improved contract over – less touring, more money and I’m still saying no. Maybe just a walk on the beach. Go to the café near the boatyard. Don’t you have to work?”
I nodded. “I need to call in and have a quick word with one of the lecturers, but I don’t have a teaching load this year, just supervision of PhD students which means speaking to them online every couple of weeks. I’m research based at the moment.”
“Hence you’re away for six weeks.”
I nodded. “So if after Christmas you want to hang out here for longer, you can. Beach tomorrow. I’ll go into the office when you’re speaking to your manager.”
“We have a plan. I’ve got something in my diary.”
“You have. I’ll use the bathroom first. You’ll take ages.”
“I do not!”
“Want to prove it?”
She looked sheepish. “Not really. You go first. Is it clean?”
“Cleaner than the sofa.”
March, Twelve Years Ago
We were in her house, watching the sun go down over the sea, the sky a myriad of yellows and oranges. Spring was almost here, and it was the Easter holidays from college, so I had days of not having to do anything apart from a few shifts at the cakery and the Puffin Inn.
“Are you still seeing that girl?” Zoey put down the guitar she’d been strumming, humming the same few bars over and over while she perfected something that sounded pretty good already.
“Which one?” It was a fair question.
“Gwynnie.”
“I stopped seeing her ages ago. It wasn’t serious.” I didn’t do serious. I was seventeen and that was enough of a reason to not do serious. A couple of months had been the longest I’d dated the same person, going to the cinema or out for food, the odd bar if she looked good enough or was old enough. I could pass for over eighteen if I wasn’t in Puffin Bay or the nearby towns where everyone knew who I was and my age.
“Who did you think I meant?” Zoey folded her arms.
“I wasn’t sure.”
“How many girls have you been out with this year?”
I might’ve blushed. It was a thing I’d done since I was a kid. “Just Gwyn properly.”
“Okay, how many people have you slept with this year? Since Christmas?” Zoey folded her arms and looked a bit scary.
“Four. You mean that I’ve had sex with, don’t you? By slept with?”
“Yes. Four. Four girls.” She looked kind of upset.
“I didn’t cheat on Gwyn.” I felt I needed to defend myself.
“So who were the other three?”
I stared out of the window and felt uncomfortable. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I’m being nosey. When did you lose your virginity?”
“Last summer.” In a tent with a girl from Manchester who was eighteen and had just split with her boyfriend. I’d been a thirty second wonder and I was proud of all thirty of those seconds. The second time had been better.
“So are you like going through every girl at college?”
“No. One girl was at a party. She’s the year above me. Another was a woman who was at the Puffin Inn for the weekend, and she asked me up to her room.”
