Page 20 of Love Punch

I tried again. And again. And again. But no matter how much I watched him or how many times he saidit’s all in the wrist, I couldn’t do it.

“This is bullshit,” I muttered. “I’m running out of stones.”

Bradley moved behind me and bent to pick up a small, flat stone by my foot. He pressed it into my palm, but then surprised me by moving in close to my back, pressing into every curve of my body. I could feel his warm breath against my cold cheek as he pulled my arm back, and slowly pushed it forward. “This angle, see? And just a quick flick. That’s all you need to do.”

He demonstrated again, but I was hardly thinking about the pebble. My mind was overwhelmed by the feeling of his body, the few thin layers that separated our skin, and the trail of goosebumps that his breath left in its wake.

Bradley stepped away suddenly, and I dropped the rock.

“Good start,” he chuckled.

“Shut up.” I picked up the rock again, and with his whispered instructions in mind, managed to throw it. It skipped once, twice, and then dropped below the surface. “I did it!”

“The apprentice becomes the master,” Bradley said with a smile.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked. “We could keep walking.”

Bradley looked along the river trail, and for a second he seemed torn.

“What is it?”

“We passed a lovely little pub on the way…it’s been ages since I treated myself to a drink and some greasy food,” he admitted. “I know you planned a walk but…I’ve had enough exercise for a lifetime.”

I grinned. “Pub it is. But you’re paying.”

“I left my wallet at home.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t think I had the foresight to grab it? You wanted to take me to the Maldives and now I’m not even worth a pint.”

“You’re worth the world,” Bradley said. I laughed until I realized he wasn’t. “You really are though.”

It was my turn to be serious, and I struggled to crack so much as a grin the whole way to the pub. Did he really think I was worth the world? And was that just as his assistant? Or was it more, somehow?

I stayed deep in thought all the way to the little thatched pub that Bradley had suggested. “I bet they don’t even serve food,” he groaned.

“I brought you a whole feast of stuff earlier, was it not beautiful?” I asked, feigning offense.

“It was. But I need, like, five thousand calories a day when I’m amping up for a big fight, and you know it.” The smile slipped off Bradley’s face just as I bit my tongue to hold back my next retort. Because he and I had realised at the same time that there would be no next fight.

We walked into the pub, which was the size of a living room, if that. A mahogany bar was inset into one wall with an old barmanbehind who looked like he’d been there as long as the wattle-and-daub walls.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked. It was only upon looking around that I realised we were the only people in the place. We both made our way to the bar, but I kept my eyes peeled. I’d seen this horror film before, I was sure.

“A pint of…whatever lager you have, please.” Bradley looked at me. “For both of us.”

The barman smiled a near-toothless smile and pulled us each a pint into scratched-up glasses. I made another sweep of the building and noticed that while it was showing signs of age, everything was immaculate. I could have swabbed the dark wooden floor and not found a speck of dust.

“What brings you to these parts?” asked the barman. I don’t think I’ve seen either of your faces before.”

“Just…passing by,” I said. “Came to see the border.”

“Is that a Cardiff accent I detect? My Marjorie was from Cardiff, bless her soul.” The barman smiled.

“You’re right,” I confirmed. “I thought I hid it better than that.”

“I’ll know that accent anywhere, no matter how many layers you hide it behind.” The old barman passed us each a pint. “On the house.”

“No, no, I have to pay…” Bradley took out his wallet.

---