He shifted, turning me gently to face him.‘I couldn’t agree more—’
‘It’s not healthy.I’m tired of pretending.’
His eyes scanned my face, his palms moving up and down on my arms.‘And I’m tired too.I’m tired of pretending—’
‘So you win,’ I said.
His mouth parted.Eyebrows lifted.‘I win?’
‘We can be friends.’
‘Friends.’ He echoed the word as if it didn’t quite land.
There was a beat.His eyes flicked to my mouth, then back to mine.
‘Isn’t that what you wanted?To be friends again?’
‘I thought—’ he ran a hand across his face, voice catching.He glanced to the women behind us, and whispered.‘We kissed.’
‘The kiss was a mistake.We both know that.We’ve been there, done that.’ I gave a forced laugh.‘And I think we can agree that we don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.Mistakes that could mean we don’t speak to each other again for years.’ I shifted my weight, holding his gaze.‘I’m sick of pretending I didn’t miss you, Ren.Because I did.I missed my best friend,’ I said, words tumbling now, because if I didn’t say them fast, I might choke on them.‘And having you back this week – I just – look, you win.I missed you.I want us to go back.To before.To when it didn’t hurt like this.’
But I saw it – that flicker of something raw before he shoved it down again.And suddenly, I felt exposed.Had I read this wrong?
‘Unless you aren’t comfortable with that—’
‘No, no,’ he said, eyes a little wide, like he was worried I’d jump off the sheer drop behind us.‘It’s not that – I’ve missed you too.So much.’
He paused, as if he might say something else.
But then he just smiled, softly uttered, ‘Friends.Of course.’
Chapter Fifteen
Ren
I’d barely stepped out of the shower block, hair still dripping, when Lydia pounced, and not in the way I would have liked.
‘Jesus—’ I flinched, clutching my toiletry bag to my chest.
I was fully dressed, thankfully.Or maybe that was a shame – because part of me wouldn’t have minded wiping that friendly smile off Lydia’s face and replacing it with something more interesting.
She’d been all light and cheerful since we came down from Snowdon yesterday.Like whatever knot had been inside her had finally unravelled.And I loved that.Of course I did.I wanted her happy.
But there was a part of me – a very loud, obnoxious, selfish part of me – that missed that… charge.I wouldn’t have minded her catching me shirtless again, like in the Peaks.That glazed expression, the way her eyes had trailed across my tattoos.I swear I could still feel her eyes on me.
Friends, Lawrence.
She’s your friend.
Lydia was grinning like a maniac and I knew this look.It used to mean trouble.Like when we were 12 and she convinced me we could build a rope swing across the canal, or when we were 15, when she said we could bribe our way into a sixth-former’s party as long as we had the half-drunk bottle of Campari from Sandra and Brian’s garage.Spoiler, we weren’t let in.That look was rare.But, God, I’d missed it.
‘Relax,’ she said, practically vibrating with excitement.She was wearing a bright pink set – leggings and a crop top – and I made a quiet, desperate promise not to look at her arse today.‘I’m not trying to steal your hair wax.We’re skiving off today.’
I raised an eyebrow.‘Skiving?’
‘Yep,’ she said, hitting the ‘P’ as if it was a punchline.‘Mandy approved it.’
I glanced over her shoulder to where the ladies were gathered around a picnic bench, sipping tea from enamel mugs and pretending not to stare at us.Interesting.Mandy approved it.And now she was watching us as if she was betting on a horse race.I’d bet that she was texting Sandra with updates right now.
