‘Oh,’ Josh says with a slow nod, before his eyes start to narrow in confusion. ‘So… why did you come toFirecrest?’
‘Ham,’ Elliot warns.
I wave a hand at him. ‘No, no, it’s okay. It’s a very good question. We came here to see this stupid band, actually.’ I raise the drumstick to emphasise my point. ‘They’re my favourite. It was worth the pain.’
‘Oh,’ Josh says lightly before his eyes widen with realisation. ‘Oh. That’s why you want that drumstick so badly!’
‘Yes, it is,’ I reply, my voice tight.
‘Oh, boy. Bet you feel bad now, Ell,’ Owen says, slapping Elliot’s shoulder.
Elliot, as usual, stays quiet and rolls his eyes so violently I’m surprised he lives to tell the tale.
‘Looks a little more quiet now,’ Owen observes, nodding at the path. It is, indeed, much less populated.
‘Where the heck were all those people going anyway? The Houndssuck,’Josh remarks, watching the last dregs of people hurry past us towards the Tower Stage. ‘I’d rather listen to bins falling over.’
‘Must be pretty popular to garner a crowd that big,’ Elliot replies, his gaze darting to me. He must be waiting for me to call the shots. And to be honest, I feel bad enough for delaying us this long anyway.
‘We should go,’ I say. ‘Don’t want to keep you guys, thanks for sticking around.’
‘Nice,’ Josh says, following behind Elliot and I. ‘Sticking around. I get it. She’s much funnier than you, Elliot.’ Despite myself, I giggle at Elliot’s unamused expression.
We venture through the trees towards a much narrower path, which explains the bottle-neck of people earlier.
Josh appears next to me, his huge frame towering over me. Christ. He’s like a building. This must be what it feels like for Hennie to hang out with me.
‘You know I’m on your team, right?’
I blink. ‘Sorry?’
‘This competition that you’re in with this beautiful prick. I love him and all but he is devious, and you’ll need allies. You can count on me, is all I’m saying.’
Observing the moving crowds around us, Elliot just looks vaguely amused.
‘Thanks, Josh. In that case, we’ll break him in no time.’
I really do hope this is the case, so I can leave and get on with my life.
‘Okay, let me take you through his weaknesses.’ He rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain. ‘So. He loves coffee, hates tea,will probably remember everything you’ve ever said,can survive on practically two hours sleep,despisesketchup but ironically has an insatiable desire for redheads–’
‘Josh,’ Elliot cuts in, his deep voice strangled. Apparently, this has ruffled Elliot enough to actually address Josh by his forename. I’ll admit it’s lovely to see him rattled. Very refreshing. ‘We met her less than an hour ago, could we give her a minute before overloading her with useless facts about me?’
Now my heart thumps with a renewed vigour that has nothing to do with crowds. I’m suddenly very conscious of the fact that my hair is dyed scarlet red before reminding myself of the state of his appearance, and push the thought silently aside.
‘What? It’s cute. I never said it was anunhealthydesire,’ Josh replies with a half-hearted shrug.
‘Jesus,’ Elliot says under his breath. ‘Thanks, bud. Didn’t take you long to turn against me. Approximately thirty minutes, actually. Please ignore him, Nora.’
Josh fires him his enormous toothy grin and pats his shoulder affectionately. ‘Sorry to sell you out so early, mate.’
Elliot shoots him a glare before glancing at me one more time, so briefly that I wonder if I imagined it.
5
The Warren area at Firecrest is inspired by the English countryside in the summer, suitably bathed in a warm bed of light as the sun sets. Cosy cafes and stalls with colourful exteriors are emblazoned with weeds and flowers – crawling with animals and insects made with forgotten scraps of patterned fabric. The centre of the area boasts a large, raised platform decorated with towering fake trees and bushes with orange lanterns hanging between them. Small pockets of people lay back on moss-covered sofas and red mushroom beanbags cupping steaming mugs. There’s a faint sound of someone strumming a guitar in the area, the constant background hum of the festival sitting behind it.
We walk past a wooden structure that looks like an old cottage with an open front, housing cosied up groups sitting on round picnic benches. The ceiling above them is covered in hanging tree branches with warm fairy lights entwined around them, bathing them in a gentle glow. The vibe is painfully wholesome.
