The sound of his footsteps approach me from behind and I feel him cautiously brush my arm again.
‘Nora, slow down. You okay?’ He has the gall to sound genuinely confused.
‘Fine,’ I reply dully as I keep the same pace. I’m heading towards the least populated corner of the Jungle, which from here looks like a small sitting area next to a mini caravan that looks like it’s been converted into a bar. My legs just move without any need for instruction, potentially from the heated charge still pulsing through them from my ebbing embarrassment. I cross my arms to protect them from the biting breeze.
Elliot steps forward to match my pace.
‘Do you – don’t you think we should talk about what just happened?’
I take a panicked glance at his eager expression and am struck with a horrible, inexplicable pain. I wish it didn’t sting so badly. I tear my eyes away again and set my sight firmly on the caravan.
‘Honestly? Let’s not. We should be thinking about the next clue; we lost enough time in there.’ I’m determined to keep my voice plain and unwavering.
I have absolutely no interest in discussing the fact that he wishes our brief, earth-shattering kiss hadn’t happened. My mind races through potential reasons why he kissed me in the first place; maybe it was alcohol, he got caught in the moment, he wanted to forget his ex, he had experienced a brief moment of insanity. I don’t care. I never want to hear about it. I wish that it could be wiped from both of our memories, scratched away and neatly replaced with anything else.
‘Nora listen, I’m sorry–’
I flinch and try to not let the hurt show on my face before finally gathering the courage to face him.
‘It was nothing.’ I try to sound relaxed, but my voice still sounds hard and odd in my ears. ‘It’s fine. So, let’s just let it go and never talk about it again, okay?’
He pauses, looking searchingly around my face, which I keep carefully blank.
‘That was nothing?’ he asks, his eyes turning darker.
My mouth still feels inflamed and red-hot from the kiss. I have to stop my eyes from drifting back down to his lips, heavy with the knowledge that they had just been kissing me senseless only minutes ago.
I cross my arms tighter to my body and shrug, forcing an easy air into my voice. ‘Listen, it’s fine. You apologised, apology accepted. No need to talk about it.’
He’s quiet for a moment, watching me with wary eyes. ‘Okay.’
I can only stare at him in response, desperately stifling the burning pain above my eyes, willing the tears that are threatening to not spill over.
Sure, maybe I am a little sad after all.
He shrugs helplessly. ‘Maybe we should just get going,’ he says gruffly. ‘Think about the next clue, like you said.’
I nod. He must be feeling as embarrassed as I am, albeit for probably different reasons.
‘Right,’ I mumble, turning on my heel.
As we walk together in silence, my dimming humiliation starts to make way for the inevitable: disappointment. I had started to feel close to Elliot, like he was someone I could comfortably open up to. Someone I could call a friend by the end of the weekend.
Now I’m not so sure. He was unreadable and guarded from the second we met, but this makes me realise I truly have no idea what he’s thinking. I recall the image of the immediate regret in his dark eyes and the ground almost feels unsteady beneath me.
We say nothing as we take a pause so I can put my jacket back on. He plunges his hands in his pockets, his face devoid of emotion. The idea of the rest of our time together feeling this awkward and forced when things had been so easy mere hours ago makes my cheeks flush with shame all over again.
We approach the sitting area to find that all of the benches are taken. I press my lips together, suddenly wishing that the festival’s electricity supply might miraculously run out at this very moment so I could run away from him into the darkness.
A nearby act must have just finished as swarms of people make their way through the entrance of the Jungle, ready for the next phase of their Saturday night. They flood the area, an endless outpouring. I resist the urge to groan.
Just as I’m working out a strategy, a man walking next to us suddenly makes harsh contact with my shoulder, almost knocking me backwards and causing my bones to violently jolt in shock. Elliot quickly steadies me with a hand at my back, twisting to shout, ‘Watch it!’ at the man in a deep, furious tone that I wouldn’t have imagined coming from him.
A sweeping heat and bolt of adrenaline pulses through me momentarily. In the corner of my eye, Elliot waits patiently to look me over as I take a shaky breath in. I force my eyes closed for a brief moment and decide to take the opportunity to use a specific technique while both of my hands are free. I tap the inside of my right wrist seven times before switching hands and tapping my left wrist seven times. I would include tapping my forehead and my chest in the rotation before going back to my right wrist, but ponder if that might make Elliot think I’m trying to send some form of silent, coded message. I beg my body to get a grip and continue to tap my wrists in my predictable pattern as subtly as I can.
Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Elliot is in a rush to get anywhere. He silently slips his phone out of his pocket and starts typing a message.
I wonder if he’s telling Josh and Owen about his blunder and subsequent regret when I feel a buzz in my pocket and realise that he must have texted the group with an update. I don’t think either of us are expecting a response from them for a while.
