“I went with her actually, but yes,” He smirks at me and he’s clearly loving every second of this. “We grew up together and after everything, we got separated—sent to different boarding schools. I tried on so many occasions to get you both in the same room and failed.” He shrugs, like it's not the biggest deal he’d tried to get us to meet in the past.
“What do you mean you failed?”
“Well you never seemed bothered about my quiet, private friend and by the time she was coming out of her shell, you were pretty famous and she wanted nothing to do with that.” He shrugs again, but I knowthatmeans the wild reputation I’d allowed the media to slap on me. Even though he continues to grin at me, I look down at my coffee, finding his gaze uncomfortable as I realise how ignorant of a friend I've been for a long time. I couldn't recall one conversation involving her, my memory only serving me that she was a writer and she didn't like parties. I remember her attending the sister school to ours, but that wasn’t even located in the same county. He'd sneak out at weekends to see her, which at the time I'd just been annoyed he wasn't around to play music with. Silly teenage shit. All I cared about was hanging with the small group of friends we had made, forming The Larks and getting our break when we turnedeighteen. We’d been signed and started hitting festivals over summer whilst Phin moved to York, with his little mousy friend. But that wasn't true was it? I had to admit to myself that I'd built a picture of Robin without knowing her, and I was starting to think I'd gotten it all wrong. From the moment my eyes met hers, I knew I had got it so, so wrong.
“Look Phin, I’m really sorry mate. I feel like such an arsehole.” I felt uncomfortable in my skin, forcing myself to look at him—why was he still grinning like a maniac?
“Wrenny, honestly it's fine. Without the lack of trying you two just wouldn't have clicked back then. She would have ruined you. Heart shattered on the floor, type of ruining.”
I sit a little straighter, my upper lip twitching as thoughts of winning her over flood my mind. “Like hell she would have, I can be a very good boy when I try to be.”
Merle snorts. “No offense, but I’m sure you've never heard the wordsgood boyunless you're doing unforgivable things.”
I scowl, because did he really have to throw in air quotes too? “Hey, I could be a great guy for someone!” That someone being Robin, but I don't say that part out loud.
His back is turned to us as he starts pouring coffee into a new mug, but I can hear the smirk in his tone. “You purposely just left out the word boyfriend, like you'd ignite into flames if you say it. Obviously we know you're a great guy, but you've never been in a relationship…”
I want to argue, but he fucking knows he’s right so I sit there and silently brood. Coming around the island, he places a soft kiss on top of his boyfriend's head and hands him the mug. Muttering that he needs to grab some coffee beans from the pantry, Merle and I are left in the kitchen and my shoulders slump.
Would I really not be good enough for her?
As if he can sense my defeat, a large palm rests itself on my shoulder and gently squeezes. “Ok, I am going to believe your intentions are pure and help you when I say this. Robin and Phoenix are freakily the same person sometimes. It's weird, but when you spend time with her, you’ll get it. They both prefer things like…acts of service! Physical touch to gauge a connection with someone. You know how he's a hugger? Well she is too.” I find myself nodding along as he gives me this life line, a solid thread that I can make tangible. I knew about love languages and understood what he was telling me, showing I was a good guy would be more effective than words. I could get behind acts of service, because for the people closest to me, I loved taking care of them.
“Words of affirmation scare them both, like they don't believe what they're being told. So if you try to praise her, back it up and don't ever lie. She can smell that bullshit a mile off.” The rest of my coffee slides down my throat as I process my next move, the best way to connect with her. Phin returns with a small sack of beans and a handful of granola, his jaw working the mouth load like a hamster.
“What can I say? I’m an insecure boy.” Throwing a wink at his boyfriend, he sits down the sack, before opening the lid of the machine and starts to refill it. My thoughts drift back to Robin, but I’m pretty sure they never left her. I remember her caramel eyes, the sun highlighting a scatter of freckles over the bridge of her nose, her lips…
“Wait, why was she frowning at me when I got out of the van?”
“Maybe it's because you're a total caveman? You growled at me instead of saying hello.” I don't appreciate his humour right now, but I also don't think that's the reason. She was frowning at me before that moment, in fact, her lips were practically dripping with disgust when I begged Phin to save me from my uncaffeinated haze.
Deciding to bench it for now, it won’t matter when I’m making her delicate lips smile for the rest of the weekend. The idea that I might only know her for two more days does something funny to my chest, my palm instinctively working at my skin, as the knot grows inside my rib cage. I really wanted to get to know her, which is a foreign feeling.
I reminded myself that she can’t distract me from what needs to be done this weekend. My eyes instinctively shoot to my best friend, as he leans onto the island, his full attention on his boyfriend as they discuss gathering everyone outside to start lunch, and begin the game. I really need to get him alone to talk, because the axe his brother is holding over my head is inching closer to not only my neck, but everyone he loves too.
Chapter four
Robin
WHITEknuckling the fork, I spear a pasta shell from my bowl as my skin soaks in the sunshine from my perch on the patio. Corbin has already informed the guys that he won’t be available, shutting himself away in the office upstairs whilst he takes work calls.
My eyes scan the guests around the glass table, where I’m the only female seated so far. That’s not where my thoughts linger, they keep drifting back to Wren Hastings. The Wren fucking Hastings, who is currently sat opposite me, staring at my mouth every time I place another piece of pasta into it. My brows crease as I think about what he said to the bouncer the other night, making my skin crawl all over again. It felt violating to have someone I don’t even know make me feel that way, but it also made me hear another voice spit at me.
Look at you.
When I woke up yesterday to find Phin gone, I had googled Wren. My curiosity got the better of me. As expected, he was an entitled fuck-boy rockstar, involved with models, influencers with issues and drugs. I had stared a little longer than necessaryat one particular picture—he’s shirtless and not looking at the camera, as if a girlfriend had taken it whilst they lingered in bed. Not only is he tall, but he’s lean with firm muscles, which are so toned in person. He’s also covered in dark tattoos, his entire torso, arms, hands to a snake winding slightly around his neck. I may have also listened to The Larks recent live lounge cover, but only because they did a rendition of a song I love.
No other reason.
I will die on this hill.
Popping more cold pasta in my mouth, on cue I look up to find Wrens forest green eyes move to watch my lips close around my fork, his own tugging into a little smirk. In comparison to the bedroom photo, his curly mop of obsidian black hair is longer, untamed like he’d been running his hands through it. He looks paler, which surprises me because I’d have assumed he would have caught some sun on his little get away with Phin.
As I place my fork down, he leans slightly forward, his mouth opening as if he’s going to finally speak to me, but motion at the conservatory doors makes me tear my eyes from his.
“Rob Darling, have you got the bottle of champers? I left it inside somewhere, so we might want to just pop another open.” Lily has changed into a white crochet style mini dress that shows off her long legs, as she drifts round the table to sit next to him.
I don’t miss the way he stiffens.
