I Hold Your Heart Page 4

  We wind our way down the cliff path, past long grasses threaded through with little purple flowers. I’m not exactly wearing the right sort of shoes for this and a couple of times my feet skid, so that Aaron has to put a hand out to steady me. After the second time, he loops his arm through mine.

  It’s not until we get out on to the sand that I remember how isolated the beach is, ringed in with rocks. We’ve got the entire place to ourselves. As Aaron dumps his bag down, I take out my phone, but of course there’s no reception out here. I guess this should make me nervy or something; I mean, I don’t know Aaron really, do I? I didn’t actually tell anyone where I was going, given I didn’t know myself. I imagine telling my parents I’m on a date and almost laugh; I’d only get a million questions, plus a load of jokes-that-aren’t-really-jokes from Dad about whether he needs to get a shotgun.

  But looking at Aaron bent over his rucksack, at the quick, almost shy look he directs up at me, I’m not worried.

  ‘What exactly have you got in there?’ I say, because seriously, the rucksack’s about the size of a small house.

  Aaron grins and starts producing stuff, like a magician with one of those strings of coloured flags. Bottles, a rug, packets of food, even plates and cutlery. Then he pulls out a disposable barbecue and I start to laugh. He looks up again, from where he’s smoothing a patch of sand with his palms, and says, ‘What?’

  I gesture to where the wind has caught one edge of the rug and is lifting it up. ‘Not sure it’s totally barbecue weather. That rug’s going to take off.’

  It’s like that around here. The wind keeps you company nine days out of ten. I feel it now, whipping the side of my face, bringing the sticky taste of salt spray with it.

  ‘We just need some ballast,’ Aaron says, and there’s a sudden glint in his eyes. Then he takes one long stride over and in a smooth movement lifts me easily. I register the feeling of his hands spread on either side of my ribcage, just above my waist, and let out a screech of indignation as he plonks me down on top of the rug. Then he gives me a wicked grin, dancing back as I try to swat him with my hands. ‘Stay there.’

  I can still feel the sensation of his fingers imprinted on to my sides, the rushing feeling of being swung into the air as I sit on the blanket, watching as he tries to light the barbecue. Aaron’s flicking a lighter, but every time he gets it near the foil tray, the wind blows it out again. It finally catches on the fourth try and he turns to me with this ridiculously pleased look on his face. Then he pulls out a couple of candles from the rucksack.

  ‘Seriously?’ I say.

  He makes a pah noise. ‘This? It’s just a light breeze. I will not let it best me.’ He puts on a fake accent for the last part, like some guy in a costume drama. But even Aaron has to give up on the candles eventually. Instead, he goes back into his bag and pulls out a portable speaker. I lean forward. ‘Is that a Bose?’

  ‘Yeah, it is actually.’ He sounds surprised.

  ‘What? Shocked a girl knows her speakers?’

  ‘No,’ he says, but he gives this little smirk, like he’s trying to wind me up. I resist the urge to lob something at him; there isn’t anything in reach except for sand. He slaps the burgers on to the barbecue. I’m about to get my phone out to check out how my make-up’s holding out, when Aaron fiddles with the speaker, then bounds over again and drops on to the blanket beside me.

  Suddenly, the wind seems to cradle us. There’s around six inches between his leg and mine; his stretched out in front of him, while he leans back on his elbows. I’m sitting cross-legged and I turn so one knee is pointing towards him, one out to sea. A familiar chord drifts across my consciousness. ‘Wait … is that Bowie?’

  ‘“Starman”,’ Aaron confirms, still looking at the waves.

  ‘Cool. Gotta love a bit of Bowie.’

  Aaron turns to me, again with that super-pleased look on his face. ‘I knew you’d be into him.’

  ‘Oh yeah, why’s that?’

  ‘Because you have excellent taste,’ he says, all teasing now, and I’m irritated to realise I’m blushing. To deflect attention away from my red cheeks, I say, ‘Well, a picnic on the beach isn’t the most original idea, but you get points for this.’ I point to the barbecue, which is starting to smoke, ‘And this.’ I wave my hand to indicate the whole beach. ‘I haven’t been here since I was a kid. I forgot how beautiful it is.’

  ‘You’re so lucky, growing up here. I love the sea.’

  ‘What, even when it’s gale force ten, which it is pretty much all the time around here by the way?’

  Aaron leans back again. ‘But you get so much space. Enough to really breathe, you know?’ He gestures out to the waves. ‘It’s like this e.e. cummings poem says, ‘We always find ourselves in the sea.” He holds my gaze for a moment, then he grins. ‘Plus, it’s not dirty like in London. You don’t get goth snot out here.’

  I blink, then laugh again. I’m finding it hard to keep up with him. ‘Wow, poetry and bogies in the space of thirty seconds. Is this your usual approach with the girls?’ I’m definitely buzzing now. Aaron is by far the most interesting person I’ve spoken to in just about forever. Not to mention the best-looking …

  We listen to the music for a little while, staring out to where the sea is a deep green-grey, the waves near the shore white-tipped. ‘Starman’ finishes, and ‘Life on Mars’ begins. I sigh. ‘I still can’t believe he died.’

  Aaron nods. ‘Yeah, Bowie was a proper original. He said this thing once, about how he was only the person the greatest number of people believed him to be. It always makes me wonder whether that’s true.’

  There’s a pause as I turn the quote over in my mind. ‘Hmm. I guess it’s like you have to be one way at school, right? And with your parents or whatever. But then when you’re with other people …’ I trail off, not sure where I’m going with this.

  But Aaron leans forward and nods, his hair sticking up in the wind. ‘I know, right? It’s like, who can you be the real you with?’

  I feel out of sync suddenly, like the easy banter we’ve had up until now has just been replaced with something else altogether.

  ‘Sounds a bit dramatic,’ I say in the end, on a light laugh.

  For a moment I think Aaron seems disappointed, but before I can decide, another song comes on. I whip my head towards him. ‘You like The Greenwoods?’

  He holds my eyes. ‘Love them. I mean, “Dark Sun Sky” is basically a perfect song, isn’t it?’

  Wow.

  Wow wow wow.

  ‘Yes!’ I can’t help myself; it’s one of my favourites too. I can’t believe it. ‘You like country?’ I say.

  ‘Sure. I mean, maybe not so much the older stuff – I can take or leave trucks and whiskey, but Kacey Musgraves or Blake Shelton … what?’

  I must be really staring at him. I cough, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, it’s just you must be the first person I’ve ever met in real life who likes country music.’

  He smiles. ‘Well what’s not to like? It’s all about being real, isn’t it? Real stories, you know?’

  ‘Yes.’ And I do know. How a good country song can crack open your heart, tell you a story that’s totally true. I can’t believe he gets it.

  He really gets it.

  We listen in silence. On the second chorus I feel his fingers covering mine and it’s like the music is running through our linked hands, pulling us together.

  He doesn’t let go until there’s a flare and sizzle from the barbecue, and then he leaps back up to flip the burgers over. I’ve got to admit, they smell pretty amazing, especially with the sea air sharpening my appetite. My stomach growls.

  ‘Oh my God, are they done yet?’ I call.

  ‘Nearly.’ That smile again. It sets off something in me, this shivery, swooping feeling. I’ve never felt this with any boy before.

  Finally Aaron comes over with plates loaded up with burgers in buns, salad, crisps. He’s even brought napkins. We spread it all out in front of us, Aaron jumpi
ng up to grab a bottle of something fizzing and sparkly. He balances two plastic glasses on top of the mini-coolbox and pours, then hands one to me.

  As I take it, his fingertips overlap mine, and now the electric feeling intensifies, runs up my arm. He taps his glass against the one in my hand. ‘To the girl with the beautiful songs,’ he says.

  His voice is light, that half-smile on his face again, but I’m sure I’m not imagining the tiny pause between ‘beautiful’ and ‘songs’. I take a sip of the drink, which turns out to be some sort of fizzy flavoured water, feeling the bubbles on my tongue. I gesture to the picnic, the blanket. ‘This is amazing, by the way. Thank you.’

  His eyes are saying he wanted to impress me, and I get a surge then, confident and happy, a taste of something completely new that chases the bubbles right down to my stomach.

  It lasts for about five seconds, enough time to take a bite of burger and realise that it is raw in the middle and sand has worked its way into the bun. I grab the nearest napkin and spit it out. ‘Uhhh …’ I begin, but a second later, Aaron does the same too, though he just gobs his straight on to the sand.

  ‘Crap,’ he says. Then he does a sort of shrug, giving me those eyes that remind me suddenly of Moonshine the dog. ‘Guess they needed a bit longer.’

  I start laughing again and he joins in. ‘And I thought I had everything covered,’ he says.

  ‘Shame,’ I say, trying to keep my face straight, but I’m overcome by the total ridiculousness of the situation.

  We’re being buffeted by the wind, sand whipping across the plates. The barbecue is smoking hard in our direction, making my eyes sting. And what sun there was has totally gone in. It makes me laugh more. And now we’re both helpless, Aaron practically rolling on the rug.

  ‘Sorry … but this was … kind of …’ I get out.

  ‘A crap date?’ Aaron says.

  ‘Actually, no. Ten points for effort,’ I say.

  ‘Well, that’s something.’

  ‘It is.’ And suddenly I’m not smiling any more. Because it’s properly hit me how much thought he’s put into this, all for a girl he’s just met.

  ‘I had visions of us having this amazing meal, candles … maybe a walk along the shoreline at sunset …’ Aaron says, and there’s just enough cockiness about him as he says it for me to laugh again.

  ‘Well, it’s fair to say you arsed that one up then,’ I say, but I’m touched, truth be told. I reckon Aaron knows it too, because his embarrassed look has now completely disappeared.

  All of a sudden, I want him to kiss me. I know it’s only a first date, but who cares?

  I lean forward. He’s moving towards me and my vision narrows right down to his lips. I can practically feel them on mine.

  He reaches forward and brushes my hair back with one hand.

  I start to close my eyes …

  Then he lets go and pulls away.

  I open my eyes, see he’s already getting up, packing everything away. I take a few breaths, trying to steady myself. The wind is still as strong as ever. I hook my hair behind my ears; I’m going to have a hell of a time brushing it out later because the wind has heaped it into one tangled mess. Which kind of goes for my feelings too. Why didn’t he kiss me? I really thought he was about to. I’m not about to show I’m disappointed though, so I jump up and help him pack away.

  When we’re done, Aaron hoists the rucksack on his shoulders and then reaches his hand out for mine slowly, like he’s not quite sure I’ll hold his back. I take it, feeling that shock of his warm fingers again, and suddenly I’m glad we haven’t kissed yet. I reckon he’s shy, despite the apparent confidence, and it’s cute.

  We stop right at the edge of the beach, Aaron turning back to take one last look at the waves. The sun’s dipping down low, so there’s the faintest hint of pink in the sky.

  ‘See, we kind of got the sunset,’ I say with a smile.

  ‘Next time we come here, we will,’ Aaron says.

  ‘Huh. Someone’s sure there will be a next time.’

  He tightens his hand around mine. ‘There will be. This place is special. And so …’ He breaks off and runs his free hand through his hair.

  Are you. I know that’s what he was about to say. Then Aaron’s gaze shifts from mine to where a circling seagull has swooped on to the remains of the burger he left on the sand.

  ‘Well at least someone appreciates my efforts,’ Aaron says with a grin, and the moment passes again.

  Still, I can’t help the huge beam breaking out on my face as we start up the cliff path together.

  Chapter Six

  Aaron

  ‘Oi, Weaver.’

  That accent on the end of my name, a staccato ‘Ah’ sound, almost makes me fumble a step. I turn, car keys jangling in my hand. It’s only Jonathan aka ‘Jonny’ Taylor, lengthening his strides to reach me across the college car park. I wait, casually waving my fob to lock the car doors as Jonny gets to me. He gives me and the car an appraising look.

  ‘This year’s plates? Nice. Got some guts, that has.’

  I give a nod of acknowledgment, but don’t say anything. I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, but I’m pretty sure Jonny knows not-a-lot about cars. He falls into step beside me as we make for the refectory. At the entrance, he turns to me and says, ‘So you took out Gemma Belfine?’

  I stop. Jesus, guess that’s what they mean when they say small town. There’s something in Jonny’s tone I know well. For a split second I’m back to two-years-ago Aaron. The Aaron who’d jump when his name got hurled at him the way Jonny just did. Two-years-ago Aaron would’ve scurried away with his head hanging.

  But that was then, in the days before I slimmed down and started lifting, made some money designing apps. Before I met Cherine. I’m not that guy any more.

  I grin. ‘Yeah,’ I say, and there’s enough meaning packed into that word for Jonny to snigger and say, ‘She is definitely fine …’, which I decide to ignore.

  We go into the refectory and I spot her straight away, sitting at a table surrounded by her mates. I recognise some of them from the stuff she’s already told me. Esi’s easy to spot; small seaside towns aren’t oversupplied with racial diversity. The lanky one must be Cal. He leans in to say something to Gem and she throws her head back and laughs.

  Jonny’s saying something else, but my eyes keep sliding back to where Gem’s sitting. She spots me and waves, giving that whole-room smile, but she doesn’t come over. It’s been two days since our date and we’ve texted tons, but at college she’s always busy with her friends. I think back to all the forums two-years-ago Aaron studied, the whole PUA routine. To Cherine, and the word ‘clingy’. I’ve got to wait for her to come to me.

  The beach was a bad idea, the old Aaron frets. I shut the voice down; give another casual glance over to where Gem’s sitting.

  ‘Weave’s got it bad.’ Jonny’s voice cuts across my thoughts.

  ‘Piss off,’ I say, though I try and make it good-humoured, laughing along when what I actually want to do is introduce his teeth to the back of his throat.

  I turn to the football table and flick a pound coin up in the air, then catch it again. ‘Who’s playing?’ I plant my feet square. Jonny takes his place on the other side of the table and Selina leans up against the far end to watch. For a few minutes, my whole attention’s taken up with how much I’m trying to win, and how hard I’m trying not to show it. He gets the first point, but it’s only to lull him into a false sense of security; I beat him easily. I smash the last ball past his poorly defended goal amid cheers and whoops.

  ‘And that is the sweet sound of you getting your ass handed to you.’ Selina smirks at Jonny, before stretching her arms up over her blonde head and smiling at me expectantly. But I’ve spotted a movement out of the corner of my eye.

  Gem’s leaving with that Cal guy.

  I make a show of swiping the pound off the side of the table with a flourish, then say, ‘Got to get to the library. See you later.’


  Gem has Music first lesson; I got hold of her timetable yesterday. As soon as I’m out of the refectory I do a U-turn and speed up. If I time it right, I’ll catch her before she goes in.

  Chapter Seven

  Gemma

  ‘So I’ve got an idea,’ Cal says as we walk up to Music. ‘You know the songwriting competition?’

  I give him a look. ‘I do.’

  ‘And how you still haven’t decided what song to enter?’

  I sigh. ‘Thanks for reminding me …’

  It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I’m desperate to. But it has to be the perfect song and so far, none of my solo songs seem quite right.

  ‘Well, what about a duet? I could enter with you? Just as a vocalist, I mean. It’d be your song, your entry. But I could come to the audition with you.’

  I stare at him, then start to nod slowly. That could work. More than work. ‘Sea Dreams’ feels like the best thing I’ve written and it’s really meant for two voices, not one.

  ‘That would be amazing. But are you sure? You won’t be too busy?’ Cal has his own music too, plus, since his dad moved out, his mum’s been really depressed. She’s always wanting him home, so these days he doesn’t come out much, otherwise I would’ve asked him before.

  ‘I want to do this. I want to help.’

  ‘Then yes! Thank you.’ I give him a quick hug. ‘You are officially the best.’

  ‘I know.’ He smiles. ‘Let’s start the application at lunch.’

  ‘Definitely. That’ll be—’

  I break off, because I’ve suddenly spotted Aaron sauntering towards us. I feel my heart do this massive jump in my chest; I practically grab hold of Cal again, but stop myself at the last minute. He’s finally come over. Well, all right then, ‘finally’ might be a bit melodramatic, but we’ve been texting for two days and he’s not even asked me out again so I’ve been starting to wonder if the date was a bust after all, if that non-kiss meant he’d changed his mind. Which obviously would be his loss, but still …

  I remind myself I’m Confident Gemma. I do not go around losing my shizzle over a boy, even one with Aaron levels of hotness and a love of country music. Except, as soon as he smiles, I’m all swooping electricity again and I can’t help the hand that flies to my hair. Cal rolls his eyes, nods to Aaron, who nods back in that way guys do, and ducks into the classroom.