Page 1 of Only Ever You

1

FAYE

11 Years Ago

“Shit. Shit. Shit,”Faye hissed like her feet were on fire with each brisk step through the convoluted corridors of her student union building.

This wasn’t how she’d wanted to start her first year of university at all.Late. Already anxious enough to have moved out of her mum’s house and be as alone as someone could be in a shared flat full of eighteen-year-olds she hadn’t met before a week ago.

Grey clouds had darkened the lazy purple sky with every minute it’d taken her to speed-walk through central London; half a slice of gone-cold toast in her hand that she’d snatched in a rush from an unattended plate in her shared kitchen. That wasn’t her finest moment, but needs must.

She hadn’t yet mastered the Underground during rush hour, so she’d legged it here, leaving her breathless as she climbed up three staircases –lostas well as late. Tote bag full of supplies rattling on her shoulder. At least three wrong turns were made before she found the room number that the enthusiastic “welcome” email on her phone said to attend.

Panting, she wafted her old, paint-splattered t-shirt, letting cool air touch her heated skin, then slid into the already bustling room. The wide circle of easels were alive with the sounds of paint brushes tapping in water pots and chatter as a speaker somewhere played the current radio one-hit wonder.

If she ever wanted to live out a bohemian dream, then here was where Faye would start.

She glanced around to try and find a spare easel among the circle of twenty or so. The session had clearly only just started, with the number of people still on their feet collecting supplies from cupboards and filling old mugs with water from the sink. Between their bodies, she spotted the one stool that seemed to be free; reserved for her by her signature on a sign-up sheet.

Dodging between a young woman carrying a canvas that was practically the size of her and someone else balancing a stack of oil paints upon a sketchbook, Faye beelined for the open seat. She lowered her tote to the linoleum floor, surveyed the high stool, easel, and table set-up, and decided on what to start with first.

The half-eaten stale toast sticking to her fingers had gone partially forgotten, and Faye bit down with a slightly-stalecrunchthat was like trying to rip tar with her teeth.

Water.She needed water for her gouache paints.

Stepping backwards out of her station without much thought as she took another bite, she spun on her heel and collided face to?—

“Mh—owww …” Her restricted air supply was suddenly stodgy with nuts.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Faye opened her eyes to find half of her vision obscured by a crust of toast smushed between her palm and her face, and the other half filled with the love of her life.

She didn’t intend to gape up at the man whose wide, blue-green eyes made her pulse double. It just happened. He was worth gaping over; pale but tanned – the result of a continental holiday. Slightly plump cheeks as if he enjoyed smiling, and hisdark hair was a little too short around his ears, clearly a fresh cut.

Choking on her lack of air, Faye ripped the toast off of her face, leaving half of the brown butter behind.

The brows belonging to the man whose shoulder she’d kindly just spun right into – which wasn’t surprising given how broad they were under his clean, grey t-shirt – lowered as he grimaced. He had the athleticism to be the captain of at least three different varsity teams. Maybe four ...

“Well, this is embarrassing.” And even worse? The damn peanut butter stuck to the roof of Faye’s mouth as she said so. This wasn’t elegant at all.

Hands hovered on either side of her shoulders. “You haven’t hurt anything, have you?”

“Just my pride,” she replied, brushing crumbs from the tip of her nose as she dropped the last of the inedible toast in the bin beside her table.

Mr Varsity chuckled, and by god it was a beautiful sound. “I’m sorry. You’ve got a little ...” He drew a circle in the air around his mouth and nose, the universal signal for “there’s something on your face,” which was just what Faye wanted when first meeting someone.Especiallya man.

Mortified, she slapped her skin where he’d pointed at the corner of his lips. He shook his head and gestured something which read “the other side” as he breathed a low laugh.

Faye’s fingers swiped over something stodgy and thick and ...

Deciding to explore of its own free will, her tongue swept out, and by the time she’d tasted the clump of peanut butter by her mouth it was too late to retract her steps out of the room and pretend that shehadn’tjust licked herself in front of this lacrosse captain. Maybe he was on the swim team? Definitely a gym goer given those shoulders that could almost burst from his t-shirt.

The corners of Mr Varsity’s mouth tightened in a smile. Their eyes had stayed on one another’s whilst she’d stuck her tongue outat him like a mature eighteen-year-old. And yet, he withheld his chuckle in the quiet sound of short puffs of air as if trying to save her from her own embarrassment.

“Could you maybe ... forget I just did that?” she asked despite the flames of said embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, battling with her instant crush.

He – she really needed to know his name – nodded with the trace of a smirk. “I will if you’ll tell me your name?”

---