Page 44 of Fake Rocks
It had been a strange week. I’d barely seen or heard from Saff since Monday morning. She’d spent most of the week at the studio in town, coming home in the early hours before crashing out and doing it all over again the next day. After two days, I decided to head home with Uncle Col each night. There seemed little point in being there if she wasn’t. I wondered if she’d changed her mind about us.
As I was about to drop off to sleep on Thursday night, my phone pinged. I cracked open an eyelid and picked up my phone from the side. Saff.
Hey, are you still awake? xx
I am now… x
The dots indicated she was typing something, and I waited for her response.
Sorry I haven’t been home much this week. I needed to do this band stuff, you understand, right? xx
I guessed I did. After all, it was one of Jonas’ conditions she got the band going again. Who was I in the big scheme of things? I was the guy who’d been paid to improve her reputation. Now I’d done my part, she didn’t need me any longer.
Sure. How’s it going? x
Better than I thought it would. We’ve written three new songs, almost enough for an EP. I need to find inspiration for one more though xx
She followed it up with a crying emoji.
I hesitated for a moment before replying.
I missed you this week xx
No dots. No read receipt. Nothing. I was about to give up and try to sleep when she replied.
I know. I missed you too. I’m sorry, it shouldn’t be like this. Let me make it up to you this weekend. Gotta go now though, see you tomorrow? xx
After we’d finished messaging, I tried to get some sleep but it wouldn’t come. I ended up tossing and turning; fretting Saff didn’t want me and I’d made a horrible mistake in agreeing to this whole fake thing.
I was getting in too deep.
“Come on, Tris, where’s your head today? That’s the third time you’ve got paint on the window.”
Uncle Col and I had moved into the living room and were trying to finish the first coat of paint on the ceiling before Jonas and Saff arrived home. The prep had taken longer than expected. We’d had to move all the furniture to the centre of the room and cover it, take all the pictures off the walls, sand down some of the paintwork and make sure the walls were sound. Jonas had apparently told Uncle Col he would do some of the prep, but hadn’t been true to his word. Perhaps it was a Barnes family trait.
“Give me a break, it’s the first time I’ve ever painted a ceiling before.”
“Then let me have the roller. You go and get something to clean the window with.”
I was more than happy to let him take over. My lack of concentration was fuelled by lack of sleep and an overactive mind. Saff’s absence that week had affected me more than I’d thought. Last weekend had been amazing and I truly thought it was the start of something good between us. Clearly, I was wrong.
Uncle Col’s box of tools was by the back door and I went to find some methylated spirit and a cloth to get the paint off the window.
“Hey, Tris.”
The sound of Saff’s voice startled me and I dropped the bottle. Thankfully, it was plastic and bounced a few times before rolling across the floor and ending up at her feet.
I turned and saw her in the doorway. She looked done in, bags under her eyes, mascara smudged, her hair hanging limply around her shoulders. For her she was dressed conservatively, in a pair of jeans and a nondescript hoodie.
“Hey, long time no see.” I could have punched myself. What sort of a greeting was that to the person I’d been fantasising about for most of this week?
“Are you busy tonight?”
I could lie. I could tell her I had plans back home, that I was going out with a whole bunch of friends. But I had nothing. I shook my head.
“Nope. Free as a bird.” Seriously, what was it with me and the cliché replies?
She gave me a tiny smile. “Good. We’ve got a party to go to.”
