I would disagree with him, but I’m not sure I have the energy.
I give him a bashful smile. ‘Want to go back to where we first met? It’s just through there.’ I gesture at the pathway behind him.
He blinks. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he says, his voice still uneven.
He’s probably still suffering whiplash from my unpredictable behaviour, which I can’t really blame him for. I owe the guy an explanation, at the very least.
Nonetheless, his hand gently brushes my lower back and we finally exit the Firecrest Stage field, side by side once again.
We make our way into the quiet, until the sounds of the Firecrest crowd are just a memory.
42
Ahuge team of workers in high-vis jackets are already taking the Tower Stage apart. The beams hanging from the ceiling with light fixtures attached are carefully lowered down, while decorations adorned across the front of the stage are plucked away.
We stand in front of it alone, as the last remnants of the summer sun flicker behind the wooden beams of the stage.
‘Why are they taking it down?’ I frown. ‘The festival isn’t over yet.’
‘It’s something to do with a sound curfew.’ He stands close next to me. ‘On the last night, a lot of the stages close early to avoid so much noise pollution. I remember Ham mentioning it… all the other stages get rammed.’
‘Hmm,’ I say with mild interest. ‘Love that. Perfect timing to be at the Firecrest Stage.’
His laugh lights up the field around us, and for a second I’m transported to the last time we were in this spot.
‘It feels like we were here watching Queen Ego only ten minutes ago,’ I murmur. ‘But somehow we did a whole treasurehunt and explored the whole festival and got into Ransom and everything.’
‘And I got in the lake,’ he adds, his voice low and serious.
I do my best to shoot him a withering look but it’s not long before it transforms into a grin.
‘We should probably talk,’ I suggest.
‘Probably.’
I kick a tin can away from underneath my shoe awkwardly, avoiding his stare. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘For making you claw your way out of the Firecrest crowd.’
‘It’s okay.’ He shrugs, like it was nothing. ‘No need to apologise. I’m glad I found you.’
I wring my hands together, unsure on where or how to start.
Damn it. I knew those stupid blue eyes would be my undoing. I stare dumbfounded into them for another moment, and go to break the silence by clearing my throat. This is mortifying.
‘Um,’ I start. No more words leave my mouth, to my horror.
‘I’m glad you got in touch actually,’ he says lightly, taking my hand in his. ‘I’ve been working on something you might be interested in.’
What? This isn’t supposed to be happening. He’s not following my nonsensical script. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and thumbs through his screen.
‘I thought it might be worth a try to message Teddy about our drumstick situation. So, I told him about this weekend, with plenty of sufficient photographic evidence, thanks to Owen. And basically asked if there might be any way he could send us another stick as we both obviously wanted it so badly. Or a signed set or something.’ He is practically glowing. ‘And as it turns out… he’d already seen us all over Twitter. He was tagged in a bunch of photos of us right after it happened. So he said yes pretty much immediately. He’s going to send a signed set over as soon as he can.’
My jaw drops.
‘Oh my God? I – Elliot–’
I know I should say something else, but I cannot find any words.
‘I was thinking my brother could get the signed set and you could hold on to the original. As that specific show obviously means so much to you. I thought I’d post this back to you,’ he says, letting go of my hand and tugging our original drumstick out of his pocket.
