Page 35 of Second Song

“Half six.” He’s still focussed on his scrapbooks, his cheeks still rosy, tips of his ears flaming, and fuck me, he’s so cute like this. He’s also back to brave, meeting my eyes dead on. “Let’s do it.”

“Take some supper from the dining hall with you,” Luke Lawson offers, and I knew I was right to like him. “Share a picnic. The weather looks great for tomorrow,” he says as he leaves us.

Once he rounds the corner of the building, that wary look I don’t like on Rowan returns. He asks a quiet and careful question. “Just checking. You really want…?”

“To see you again?”

So what if I’ll need to drive through the night to make an early start on Monday? I rattle off my phone number.

“Already looking forward to it.”

13

ROWAN

Another anxious prickle travels with me the next evening as the sun starts to sink and I head for the sculpture garden. The sun is lower still in the sky when Liam finally arrives after me, pulling into the car park just as other visitors are leaving.

He doesn’t get out of his camper right away when I lock my car and shoulder a picnic bag. Liam only winds down his window, craning his neck to look around the almost empty car park before locking his gaze with mine. Maybe this is a week for ditching first impressions because his eyes are so far from steely. Their corners crinkle, although he’s as gruff as ever.

“Why does this feel like a trap?” He peers around the car park again. “No loose sheep? No cliffs waiting to kill me?” And here’s proof that he saw what happened over a week ago now and that I had hoped he hadn’t spotted. “No hotel windows to throw yourself out of headfirst?” He eyes the unmanned kiosk at the garden entrance. “Or is there something death-defying waiting to end me in there?”

He gets out of the camper regardless, but by the time he joins me, I’m back to second-guessing this location like I second-guessed which chalk colour Charles expected me to choose.

I work on getting a grip the same way as I did when Charles told me there was no right or wrong answer. No reason to choose a colour at all. That I was a gift he was looking forward to his children unwrapping, and we’d wait and see together.

Now Liam pockets his keys and straightens a short-sleeved shirt he already looks great in especially where the buttons strain a little. He’s cool, calm, and collected while I stutter a suggestion. “W-we can go somewhere else, if you want.”

Christ knows the last time we were alone ended up with both of us naked. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Maybe he’s expecting a repeat with no intervening wining or dining. Or no picnicking, at least. And yet this garden seemed right the moment Luke suggested a revisit. Or had seemed right—up until this moment. “I just…” I stop myself from saying I really like your body, so that’s progress. “I just…”

I don’t realise I’m toeing at the car park gravel until he touches my chin, which I lift. I don’t know why I’m dithering. I don’t have the first idea about what I want now, apart from more of his ghost smile flickering.

“You just what, Row?”

No one else has called me Row in years. I like it so much I must sound dopey. “I just thought somewhere quieter than a pub might be better.”

“Better for what?”

A car door clunks closed, the last vehicle here apart from ours heading for the exit. He watches it go before his gaze swings back to me, and he already looked good, but like this? The lowering sun doesn’t only gild him, it also makes me slow to notice that he’s kidding. He doesn’t need me to stumble through an explanation of why I want to see him here or about what’s on offer this evening.

More humour softens all of his sharp angles. “You think this is a better venue for the lecture I’m going to give you about being reckless?”

“A lecture? Shit, no. I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime. And reckless about what?”

“Site safety, for a start.” He’s back to grumbling, only now I can tell the difference between him being serious and him taking the piss out of me, if gently. “Because you’ve got to save yourself first, right? But until then, I can’t help thinking that you need a minder.” He takes the picnic bag from me and then straightens his shoulders, and I relax even though he still grumbles. “Fuck knows what I did to deserve the job of keeping you in one piece, but I’m up for it if you are?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

He kisses me too quickly to process before one of his arms comes around me and he herds me like a lost lamb to the garden entrance. And like a lamb, I let him.

Once we’re inside, herding is the wrong word for his quick march through the entrance. “Slow down. And I can keep myself alive just fine, thanks.”

He doesn’t acknowledge or refute that. Maybe he doesn’t hear me over the chime of a bell. A sign states it will ring hourly, counting down to this garden closing, so we still have a couple before the gates lock. All I know for sure is that his hand is still on me, and I like it. I also like finding a picnic bench with a perfect sea view. “Stop. Let’s eat here.”

I empty the bag of my dining-hall finds, aware that I’m talking faster than usual, nerves spiralling like the distant sea gulls. “I’ve got bread. Cheese. No booze.”

“Not a drinker. I remember.”

“And I’m under orders to get an early night and to have a clear head for tomorrow. But I do have these bad boys.” I waggle a couple of school-issue juice boxes.

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