I know I’m about to be inundated with thoughts about Elliot and I’m not happy about it. In particular how it felt to have his hands touch me like he wanted to devour me. How impossibly soft his lips were. And what the kiss even meant?
Probably nothing.
Almost certainly nothing.
But who kisses someone only to take it back? Especially a kiss likethat? A manner in which I have never, ever been kissed in my life. Something deep in my gut stings.
For a second, I wonder if I should text Hennie. Because shewillbe furious when she hears that I kept tonights’ events to myself and Iamconcerned for my well-being if I procrastinate on telling her for too long. (Despite the fact that I know The Kiss isn’t significant in the grand scheme of things, and it was likely just the classic ‘boy kisses a girl because he fancies it in the moment during an alcohol-fuelled haze and immediately regrets it’ scenario.) But right now? The timing isn’t good. I don’t want to interrupt her having a good time with the boys.
I scrape my hands through my hair to massage the scalp underneath my curls, trying to quieten the harsh truth that is slotting itself tidily into the back of my mind.
I’m so desperate to avoid acknowledging it that my thoughts travel elsewhere, to another truth: if he really liked me, he could have made it very clear by now.
He also probably wouldn’t have apologised for kissing merightafter kissing me. Unless that’s something boys do. I don’t know. Nothing about this is normal.
I hear a soft thump next to me and tear my hands out of my hair to sit up; Elliot’s hand is already holding out a drink for me.
‘Thank you,’ I say, taking it.
He nods and turns his attention back to the view. I take the opportunity to lie back down, resting my drink comfortably next to me. My body is exhausted.
‘Where is it?’ I hear him ask.
I know what he’s referring to.
‘In my bag,’ I tell him, my eyes still closed.
The sound of my bag zip opening cause me to tilt my head down to him with a glare.
‘Rude.’
‘Don’t worry, just grabbing the stick. I’m not taking your wallet.’
‘Not yet anyway,’ I snort.
His dark brows pinch together as he turns the drumstick over in his hands.
‘What are you thinking?’ I ask dryly. ‘That this strange agreement probably wasn’t worth it?’
His head snaps up to me, apparently affronted. ‘No, not at all. It’s just been… a surreal weekend.’
You can say that again. I hum in agreement and his eyes meet mine. There’s something tender and timid in his gaze as he clears his throat, and I have to wrestle my eyes away from his. I pull my jacket more tightly around myself as a cool breeze hits my skin.
‘I don’t know.’ He swallows. ‘I’m not sure if there’s going to be a happy ending with this. I’m starting to feel sorry that I didn’t just let you have it,’ he says, his voice small.
‘Well.’ I prop myself up on my elbows. ‘It’s not too late to do the right thing,’ I tease, trying to inject lightness into my voice. I take a sip of my drink and shudder as the icy contents course through me.
‘Do either of usreallyneed it though? Would it change anything?’ he asks, his eyes piercing mine.
I don’t know, I realise, because I don’t truly know why he’s even holding onto it.
‘For my general well-being, technically I don’tneedit, no. I realise it’s not a magical object.’ I pause. ‘But would I get to keep a memento from my favourite band forever? Yes. And would it serve as a reminder of something I achieved and worked through? Also yes.’
‘Hennie would remind you, I bet. And that’s not a feeling you’ll forget anytime soon, surely?’
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
