‘Also, I’ll be here to remind you. If you ever need it.’ His gaze is warm and unrelenting.
I wonder if I will ever get used to the sensation of him studying me so closely. These moments of softness never fail to stupefy me.
My voice retreats into a whisper. ‘Thanks.’
‘I just – I don’t know.’ He sighs roughly. ‘Maybe… maybe we never needed this at all, you know?’ he says, rotating the drumstick in his hands again. I feel myself frown.
Without pausing, he straightens and rears his arm back – arranging his frame as if he’s about to launch the drumstick over the edge of the hill. My blood goes cold.
A loud gasp leaps out of my throat as he begins to launch his arm forward with sudden ferocity.
But just as quickly as he starts to throw it, he stops, his head whipping to me with a growing smirk. Upon seeing my face, he breaks into a grin and his body collapses inward with a hearty wheeze of laughter.
My mouth hangs open as I watch him.
The cad was never going to throw it, this is just his idea of teasing me.
Perhaps I am capable of murder. I wonder if his body would rollallthe way into the lake if I pushed him down the hill.
He leans towards me with another rough laugh. ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually thought I was going tothrow it?’ His voice is uncharacteristically unsteady as he struggles to restrain his mirth. ‘After both of us beingattachedto it for more than twenty-four hours?’
My shoulders start to shake with disbelieving laughter.
‘I – fucking hell, this thing couldkillsomeone if it hit them from this height,’ he says incredulously with another laugh, wiggling the drumstick at me.
Trying to fight the unstoppable smile that’s growing on my face, I crawl toward him to get the stick back.
‘I’m glad you think murder is so funny,’ I snap. ‘You clearly cannot be trusted with this.’
I snatch the drumstick out of his hand easily. He’s still laughing to himself, to my irritation.
‘Sorry – I’m sorry, I think that’s Josh’s effect on me,’ he says, running a hand through his hair and leaning back down on the grass. ‘I can’t believe you bought that,’ he breathes with awe. ‘That was so easy.’
‘I hate you,’ I growl, deeply resenting the grin that’s refusing to leave my face.
25
After running through any remaining ideas that strike us, it’s clear that we’ve run out of inspiration and conversation eventually moves elsewhere.
Elliot leans his shoulder against the flagpole and takes a swig of his beer, reminding me of my own drink. I take another punishingly cold sip and quiver at the temperature.
‘Too cold?’ Elliot asks, peering sideways at me.
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ I say, zipping my jacket up.
‘You need something?’ He points at the sleeve of the black jacket he’s wearing.
‘What? No, you need it,’ I say with confusion, eyeing it.
He shrugs, starting to pull his arm out of one of the sleeves. ‘I’m fine.’
I would laugh at the fact he’s suddenly behaving so strangely gentlemanly if I didn’t find it so unnerving. Spluttering with alarm, I shake my head frantically and flap a hand at him.
‘Please, don’t worry. A lemonade won’t be the end of me.’ I take another sip, as if to prove my point. ‘I can handle it.’
He gives me a once over before pulling it back on. Thank Christ. If I’d had the inescapable scent of Elliot on me for the rest of the night I’m not sure I would’ve coped.
‘I’m starting to get the feeling you could probably handle most things, princess,’ he says, a trace of humour in his voice.
