The first thing I saw was a small, plain, rectangular piece of card. On it, written in blue ink, were three words.
Happy birthday, Nova
My gaze dropped. Beneath the card was a book. My mouth fell open, my shaking fingers carefully tracing the contours as I took in the precious, irreplaceable item I held in my hands.
The Poetical Works of Lord Byron. As I opened it, I noticed two things. The copyright notice denoting it as a first edition, and the folded piece of paper inside, with my name written on it.
Lifting the paper from the book, I unfolded it.
It was a letter.
I read it once. Then again. Then, later, when I was in my bed with my phone torch providing the only source of light, I read it once more.
Then, I sent a text.
Me:
Meet me at the barrow tomorrow at midnight
The reply came through just a few minutes later.
Jay:
No. I’m sorry. It’s not a good idea for us to meet anymore
21
JAY
“Spot me?”
“Yeah, okay.” Scrubbing a towel over my face, I climbed off the leg press machine and followed Dan over to the free weights area of the Cranham Uni gym. It was in the same building as the original prison gym and consequently was fucking freezing and bleak, with harsh overhead strip lighting and pitted whitewashed walls.
Unlike most universities, our gym time was mandated, with slots carved out on our timetables—all part of the uni’s ethos. There was even a quote by the Stoic philosopher Seneca hand-painted onto the lintel above the doors:The body should be treated rigorously, that it may not be disobedient to the mind.Because I was on the hockey team, I also had extra gym slots scheduled on my timetable, and our house had a former cellar that had been converted into a gym. Yeah, we worked outa lot.
Dan set up the barbell, adjusting the weight to his liking while I checked my phone. My throat tightened when I scrolled through my messages and saw Nova’s name. I hadn’t spoken to her since I’d sent that text after theengagement party, almost a week ago. Even now, I was second-guessing myself, wondering if I’d made the right decision in turning down her request to meet, but I knew deep down, it was. For her sake and for mine.
“Any texts from the IP?”
My head shot up to find Dan smirking at me from the weights bench, and I stared at him. “IP?”
“Yeah.” His voice lowered. “Ice princess.”
I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “No, and there’s not gonna be. She’s getting married,” I hissed through clenched teeth. Dan held up his hands, his humour instantly disappearing.
“Okay, okay. Sorry, mate. Forget I said anything. You want my advice?”
“Not really.”
“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Or behind them, or on top of them, or?—”
“I get it.”
“Or take it to the yard.” His brows rose in invitation, and I nodded.
“We’ve got an away game tomorrow. Day after?”
“Wait.” He snapped his fingers. “Instead of a fight…how about a party at our house? We haven’t had one since we moved in, and I dunno about you, but I’m bored of having to wear a fucking suit to celebrate. I just want something simple. Alcohol, good music, hot women, tasty snacks— Oh! Can you give me your mum’s number?”
