“What’s classed as meaningful?” I’m digging shamelessly to get to know her better, because at this point, if she turns around and says she likes pottery all Patrick Swayze style, I’d do it with her.
“Probably nothing you’re into.” She defends, not giving me an answer and glowering at me.
“No seriously, tell me. What do you like to do?” I’m desperate for the crumbs of her life.
After a long pause where her cheeks flare pink, she answers. “We like to find events in the city to attend and classes. Wine nights, small gigs, book readings. We hang out at home, probably boring notions to someone like you.”
“Ouch. You need to stop being so mean to me or I’m going to end up falling head over heels for you.” I can't help laughing, because I’ve completely caught her by surprise. This girl can banter, but I think flirting is entirely new to her. Quickly recovering, she rolls those gorgeous caramel eyes at me and sitsback slumped in the chair. “You’re an atrocious flirt. Let's not even try to unpack that sentence right now.”
“What can I say, Mummy issues.”
“Oh, so you want to do this right now? Ok. Well, same. I’m always told I’ll want to replicate the maternal bond with someone. Not in agive me all your attentionkinda way. More obsessive longing that nothing ever lives up to. I think? Sorry I'm rambling. My therapist says a lot of shit.”
I’m captivated by her raw honesty. This woman has so many depths, I don’t think she even realises. “I get that. My mum was, well she was just incredible. Raised me completely by herself. I’ve got her up on an untouchable pedestal.” I think she picks up on the use of past terms, because like herself and Phin, I don’t have parents either.
“So you like mean women?”
Again, she makes me laugh so unexpectedly. “Oh Sweetheart,” I lean further, realising at some point in our conversation she’s also done the same. I’m a breath away, the scent of cinnamon and peaches enveloping me. It hits me that she smells like Phoenix, like they share the exact same scent. I’m instantly reminded of home, my mothers cinnamon treats and when she’d spend hours just feeding both of us on weekends. I center myself, resisting the urge to close the space. I don't want to scare her off.
“I like women that don’t give me their attention so easily. I can't help it.” Seconds drift into what feels like minutes, my heartbeat skipping beats like an out of sync drum beat, as we just sit staring into one another. That's how it feels to be looked upon by her; like she’s encompassing my mind, digging in through my eyes in hopes to figure out whatever it is she’s looking for. I know because I’m doing exactly the same. Hoping for a tiny tell to reveal what she’s thinking.
I watch her intrigue in me blink away, shutting me out, posture stiffening as if she made her mind up about something. The fear of rejection in me—like always—rears its ugly head and whispers that she probably deemed me not worthy of her effort. Her brows pull together until a crease forms in between. Before she can pull away first, I stand up, palms suddenly clammy and I can only blame feeling this on edge over this damn weekend. Worrying about Phin and Corbin was getting to my head.
Overwhelmed with wanting to leave the room, I remember what I actually came in here for, before Willow followed me in. I’d rather no one be with me whilst I hunt for it, so hopefully our conversation is done before she realises how much of a wreck I am. Digging into my back pocket I produce the phone I’d found on the floor, presuming now it’s hers, by the way pink stains her face. Robin’s eyes flutter with embarrassment as she looks to me and then to the phone, fixing her gaze on the little black device.
“You know you should probably put a case on this thing, if you’re going to be throwing it around.” I tease, causing the cute blush to creep up her neck. She still doesn’t say anything, but holds up her palm in hopes of a silent exchange. I let out a low chuckle, tapping my index finger against it and giving her what she wants. Teasing is fun, I really do get off on it, but only if the other person does too. So far she’s batted back my banter—heck, she was even going tooth and nail at that guy who sat next to her when we all had lunch. Now, I don't want to push her.
Not even checking the screen as she stands and takes it from me using the tips of her fingers. That action alone does something to my body because I instantly want to touch her, but it’s clear that’s not what she wants. I’d love to run my fingers over hers, entwine our hands, feel how soft her skin is…feel the electricity run through my veins like it just did when she was under the desk.
But I don't. My palm is left empty and I shove both hands into my pockets. Robin pats her hip for a pocket that doesn't exist because she's wearing a sundress with ditsy flowers all over it.
I can't keep the devilish smirk from dancing at the corner of my lip. Is she really not going to check her phone?
When I picked it up, the inner child in me took hold and seeing as it was already unlocked, I made the photo of myself her screensaver. I mean, she clearly liked it, because she'd zoomed in on the white t-shirt sticking to my sculpted chest. I won't be modest, I've worked pretty hard to get myself in shape this year after a giant slump, being stuck on numerous tour buses.
There was only Ottis, our guitarist who regularly had girls surrounding him, so whilst the three of us lived it up on the bus, he’d get a room for the night and the band would then have his access card for the hotel gym. It was a solid rule that no girls came on the bus, so if one of us wanted to get into a little consenting trouble, we had to get a room. Theo, our band manager had even banned us from charging them to the accounts, which was fair because we all earned a shit load of money. Bran was the only one spoken for, but Mavis rarely visited on tour so he’d slump it in one of the bunks, being my usual gym partner. He thought she was pulling away recently and I had been trying to convince him that wasn’t true, but she hadn't come out for any of the tour dates. We’d finished the tour in York and she hadn't made the effort to join us, despite him being back in the country for a week now. We'd been on the road for over four months and she'd seen him maybe twice, so maybe he was onto something.
The library door slams open, bouncing off the wall and winding back to nearly hit Phoenix in the face. His eyes are glittering with glee, his body vibrating with so much adrenaline.
“I fucking found it! I found it, I won! I fucking won!” He grips tight a little stone Nightingale, with flecks of teal and tones of sea blue.
The noise that erupts from the tiny woman, forces me to take a step back, as she whirls on him, finger pointing at the stone bird.
“Absolutely not Phoenix Matthew Claythorne, you said we have to do rock, paper, scissors!” I don't know whether to hold one of them back as they both start to slap each other's arms, Robin gunning for the Nightingale as he tries to cradle it away from her in his arms.
“Fine! No best of three though. We do it once and then I win the first clue.”
She scoffs, pushing at his forearm, as they both take a fighting stance like they're about to wrestle. I never grew up with siblings, the closest I had to a brother was Phin, but their bond is on another level. He is refusing to let go of the ornament, so he raises a closed fist whilst she holds her own against her flat palm.
“Wren, count to three.” He commands, his tone deadly serious, like his life depends on this outcome. I’m hesitant but I do as he asks, their tight fists shaking with each number I count till I reach three. Her hand forms a tight rock, but at the same time he splays his out flat, representing paper. The air becomes thick as no one speaks. I honestly dare not move, like I’m stuck between two wild snakes. Robin stands a little straighter as she drops her hands, taking one big step towards him till they’re toe to toe.
“Well played Claythorne. Classic paper, I should have known.” Her voice is even and low, and I’m actually terrified for him. He doesn't back down, puffing out his chest as he stares her down. My eyeballs ping back and forth between them. “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy the first clue, because I’m going to remove your nail polish in your sleep.”
A strangled gasp escapes him as he clutches the Nightingale to his chest, spinning on the spot as she pushes past him and storms for the door.
“You sore fucking loser Rob, take that back!” He hisses as he trails after her, leaving me standing in the middle of the library with my jaw hanging on the floor. It takes me a minute to comprehend that I might as well have been invisible in their shared presence.
Calling her Rob seems to niggle at my brain, but I can't recall why. She bewitchedmybest friend's entire attention, like I wasn't even there and it makes me feel embarrassingly envious. It’s like I’m twelve all over again.
