I Hold Your Heart Page 8

  Then he gives an embarrassed laugh and says, ‘Hey, do you know how long it’s been since I built a sandcastle?’

  I blink at the sudden change in his voice, the way he’s standing. He’s gone from seeming so old, or wise or something, to a teenager like me. Then he’s taking off towards the damp sand lower down where the tide’s going out, scooping up handfuls. ‘Come on,’ he yells.

  I kneel and we get to work. We don’t have a bucket or spade but Aaron does most of the scooping. I’m on the smoothing-it-out-with-my-fingers and finding-shells-and-bits-of-seaweed-to-decorate-it duties. Aaron assumes the role of director, sorting through my pile of shells.

  He picks up a chipped one, ‘Reject!’ he says and flings it to one side, then holds up another, squinting in this exaggerated way like he’s pricing up a diamond. ‘And as for this sorry excuse for a shell – way too tiddly.’ He pitches it after the first.

  ‘How very dare you,’ I say, but then I start laughing at the word ‘tiddly’. After twenty minutes, we have a pretty decent cone-like structure, with a wig of seaweed dripping down one side and a ring of shells at its base. I stand back to admire it.

  ‘Not bad,’ I say.

  ‘Just needs one more thing,’ Aaron says. He leans down with a seagull feather he’s picked off the beach and scratches our initials into the side of the sandcastle, in an attempt at fancy italic swirly writing.

  ‘I love it! We should add “4 EVA” or something,’ I say laughing.

  Aaron grins, then sketches it in and comes to stand next to me. He takes my hand and turns me a little towards him. His eyes are suddenly soft.

  ‘Do you believe in that?’ he asks.

  ‘In what?’

  ‘Forever? Or fate, at least, like some things are meant to happen? That there’s one person out there for you and you’re supposed to find them?’

  I swallow hard. ‘Like soul mates or something?’

  ‘Yes.’ Aaron’s still holding my eyes and my heart’s going so fast I can feel each beat staccato-like in my chest. I see us almost from a distance. This boy, the beach, the way the light is just slanting towards sunset. It makes me think about this country song I’ve always loved, by Janie Wynell, called ‘Holding His Eyes’. It’s about how sometimes the most powerful emotions can only be expressed in a look. A knowing without words. And even though it’s one of my favourite songs, I don’t think I’ve ever really understood it properly until this moment.

  ‘Yes, I think I do believe that,’ I say quietly. It’s like we exchange something then, some sort of energy. Aaron nods, then leans towards me and gives me the softest, most gentle kiss. Then we kind of hug for a long time, until Aaron pulls away and takes my hand. We start walking up the beach. For a while we’re quiet, like we’re both getting used to this new intensity.

  ‘Remember that day you were watching the football match?’ Aaron says it like it was in the distant past, and I know how he feels. ‘I knew you were special that first time I saw you. And I could see it, even then, the way your parents never once noticed. They don’t, do they? Too busy watching your brother.’

  ‘I …’ I swallow. It’s like Aaron’s said something out loud I’ve never dared to even think before. The feeling is the same as salt water on a cut. I make myself smile, drag up Confident Gemma. ‘You just thought I was hot, admit it.’

  Aaron leans over to tickle me, and I screech and take off. He chases me all the way up the sand until he catches me and we collapse in a heap, him half on top of me. Then there’s a lot more kissing, quite a bit more touching – though I move his hand away when he tries to undo my jeans. He doesn’t seem to mind, just whispers, ‘Sorry, can’t help it, you’re just too hot,’ in my ear, which makes us both burst out laughing again.

  We make it back to the car, finally. It’s been hands-down one of the most incredible afternoons of my life. I rest my head back against the seat as we zoom towards my house, smiling, images of our initials on that sandcastle playing in my mind as I think about love at first sight.

  Aaron drops me at the bottom of the lane, making me promise to text him when I’m home safely. Then he leans over and gives me another one of those melting kisses. As I’m just stepping out of the car he says, ‘Gem?’

  I lean back in. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Nothing, just …’ He breaks off, but gives me this intense look. He starts to say, ‘I…’ then shakes his head, grins and says, ‘As you wish.’

  ‘What? Wish what?’

  He winks. ‘You’ll figure it out.’

  ‘Umm, OK? See you tomorrow!’

  I shut the door on Aaron’s laughs and I’m so happy I more or less skim the ground up the lane.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aaron

  Should I have said it to her? Will she figure it out? It’s a cult film, the sort I used to watch back home, before. If she does figure it out, what will she think? It’s like offering a slice of my heart on a plate, and even though girls say they want sensitive, when they’re confronted with it, yeah, that’s a different story. That’s nice-guy, friendzone, puppy-eyed geek territory, like Callum.

  I’m such a dick.

  All these thoughts are chasing their tails harder than Shiney (I’ve dropped the ‘Moon’: it was too ludicrous for a dog) as I drive back to Dad’s place.

  What if I’ve wrecked it, scared her off?

  I accelerate, trying to flatten the thoughts with my car. Remembering the feel of her body underneath me, how hard it was to pull back. I speed up a bit more, loving the way the car holds to the bends, how I can get the acceleration out of them just right … until I fly around the next bend almost on top of some old guy doing about thirty. I hit the brakes and the back end slides out. There’s an exhilarating second of the car taking over, no control left, then I lift my foot off the brake and the car corrects itself in time for me to punch my foot down again and just avoid rear-ending him.

  I catch one glimpse of the driver’s face in his rear-view mirror – glasses, fuzzed white hair – and then I’m past him, accelerating away.

  Back at the flat I park up and slam the door shut. For a sudden second, the guy’s face flashes in front of my eyes again: his hands gripping the steering wheel, his features squeezed together in … I’m about to say fear – then I jab my key fob at the car and slam into the flat.

  Not my fault if he’s too old to be on the road. Probably did him a favour if I shook him up a bit.

  I do some weights for a while; I brought my set down from London. At least Dad’s got a decent-sized flat, not like the tiny space we had back home. Another unwelcome image flitters through my brain: Mum’s face, after it all kicked off with Cherine. The things she said. All that shit about how she didn’t raise me that way and where she went wrong. Like she wasn’t even on my side.

  Then rage is here, like an ink stain spreading to blot out words I refuse to read. I push harder and harder with the weights, letting the scream of my muscles take over. After a hundred reps, I’m covered in sweat and panting.

  I slide off the bench and fix myself a protein shake, then neck it standing in the kitchen. I must’ve dropped Gem off at least an hour ago now. Will she have got the reference? Will she have checked? I get out my phone and all the old worries lift off me like flecks of rust.

  Because she’s texted back:

  As you wish. Gem xxxxx

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gemma

  It’s an old film called The Princess Bride. It’s some kind of cult classic, so as soon as I google, there’s loads of references to the ‘As You Wish’ thing, and what those references all say is that the main character uses those words as a substitute for the most important three in the universe:

  I.

  Love.

  You.

  I feel like my chest’s about to burst with excitement and happiness. No one’s ever said ‘I love you’ to me before. Well, apart from Mum (Dad doesn’t ‘do’ shows of affection, unless it’s whacking Mum on the butt or ruffling Michael’
s hair or something), but it’s hardly like she counts, she has to say it. No guy’s ever said it to me before. And in such a romantic way.

  I have to tell someone.

  I don’t bother to text Esi; it’ll be quicker if I just hammer on her door. Baaba opens it.

  ‘Goodness, you look happy!’ she says, with that wide smile of hers. She should know; I’ve never seen a happier family than hers. I used to want to live here when I was younger, even though Esi’s parents are way stricter than mine, especially about things like homework. Well, Esi smiles way less than her parents – I sometimes wonder how they managed to produce someone so self-contained when they’re so … what’s the word? It starts with an ‘e’, I remember doing it in English once, but right now I have to settle for ‘happy’.

  What can I say? I’m not as brainy as Esi.

  ‘Is she in?’ I say now.

  ‘She’s out, I’m afraid. She had an extra training practice for that tournament. Did she not tell you?’ Baaba says.

  For a ridiculous second, I’m super annoyed Esi’s not here to hear my news. I think back to what everyone was talking about in the refectory earlier, but all I get is images of my phone, which kept pinging with messages from Aaron.

  ‘Oh yeah, she did tell me actually,’ I say, then add another ‘Yep’ for good measure. I mean, she probably did, right?

  ‘I’ll tell her you came by,’ Baaba says, and though she’s smiling, I sense it’s not all she wants to say. Which is my cue to go.

  Sometimes I think Esi’s mum sees me way more clearly than my own parents do.

  Still, I can’t feel annoyed for long. As soon as I’m back home I text Aaron:

  Me: What’s a word for happy, beginning with an ‘e’? xxx

  (Yes, I’m up to multiple kisses in routine texts and feeling good about it.)

  He types back straight away: Ecstatic?

  Me: Nope. Sort of more like joyful, I guess?

  After a pause Aaron types back: Ebullient?

  Me: Yes! I knew you’d know.

  I love the way he knows all this stuff, how he doesn’t take the mick or tell me to just google it. He’s so smart.

  We arrange to meet up after I finish at the cafe tomorrow and sign off. For a moment, I wonder what to do with myself. Dad and Michael are watching a match downstairs, but I don’t fancy going to join them. I’d only have to listen to them analysing formations and free kicks and talking about Michael’s match tomorrow. Or is it training? For once, I think I might have lost track. It feels like everything’s suddenly tilted a little to the side with those three words, as though I’m a different person. I go to my mirror and the girl looking back at me seems the same, yet her eyes are full of the best kind of secrets. I’m glad now that Esi wasn’t in, because somehow this feels too new, too special to share with anyone except Aaron.

  The next day at the cafe, though, I last about thirty minutes before Esi prises it out of me. Rachael’s there too. Her parents give her loads of money so she doesn’t need to work, but sometimes she comes for cake and chats. Right now, she’s sitting at the counter with a huge cup of herbal tea in one hand and her phone in the other. We’ve had a steady trickle of older customers in. One of them stops at the counter to chat after she’s paid, while Esi sorts out the order.

  ‘Lovely for September, isn’t it?’

  I smile, which is all the encouragement she needs.

  ‘I thought we’d be lucky with the weather. And it’s cheaper of course in September, but then you never do know. But I did say to Janice – she’s my friend over there, but she’s put out, you see, because of the cake …’ The lady leans in closer, and half mouths, ‘Diabetes. It’s a terrible trouble for her. But in any case, I said I could feel it would be a good September and I was right …’

  I tune out as she goes on, vaguely nodding and smiling in the right places. Then I realise there’s been a bit of a pause.

  ‘Um, sorry, what was that?’ I say.

  The woman’s lips have kind of pulled in on themselves. ‘Well, I know you girls must be busy,’ she says.

  Esi’s beside me suddenly, smiling at the lady. She carries the tray out to where the other woman – whatever she was called – is sitting, and stands there for a while, chatting with them both. When Esi gets back to me, her smile’s gone.

  ‘What’s with you today?’ she says. ‘You never even bothered to pretend you were listening to what she was saying.’

  I’m trying hard to look sorry, but I keep thinking about Aaron and the three words. ‘Sorry, I just have, um, stuff on my mind.’

  ‘Like?’ Esi’s practically tapping her foot, as if she’s fifty or something. Then she stares at me hard. ‘Is this boy-shaped stuff?’

  I can’t hold the grin back any more. ‘Might be.’

  Esi makes a face like she’s swallowing back several thousand words. She settles on ‘Well, you should be paying attention to the customers. They like to have a chat. Don’t ignore them because you’ve got some … I don’t know, crush or something.’

  I feel a small flare of annoyance, mixed with guilt, but squash it back down. ‘It’s not like that … A crush,’ I say.

  Rachael looks up from her phone. ‘Give her a break, Esi.’

  I can’t hold it any more. ‘He said he loves me!’ My voice has gone a leeetle bit squeaky. Rachael squeals.

  ‘Really? No way. This is huge!’ She leans forward. ‘Details, right now.’

  Esi’s mouth is open like she’s the lead in some melodrama. Seriously.

  ‘Well, sort of said it,’ I add, realising I don’t actually want to explain the Princess Bride stuff. It feels private.

  ‘Aww, you two are just too—’ Rachael begins.

  ‘Are you for real? You’ve known him about two weeks!’ Esi’s voice is loud enough to make a couple of heads turn.

  And now I really am annoyed. Why does she get to stand there telling me off for talking to the customers wrong, or deciding how I feel?

  ‘Oh come on, how many boyfriends have you had?’ Rachael’s saying.

  Esi snaps her mouth shut, and I feel bad, but Rachael’s right. Esi’s never even kissed a boy. I mean, I know she’s pretty cautious about that sort of thing, but seriously, she never even talks about who she fancies.

  ‘Actually,’ I can’t help adding, ‘there’s such a thing as love at first sight. Take my nana,’ I start.

  Nana used to tell the story all the time of how she met my grandad. ‘Moment I set eyes on him, I just knew he’d be the man I married,’ she’d say. And it was true. According to Nana, they stayed in love right up until Grandad died. She used to show me all these pictures of him, and get such a happy, faraway look on her face.

  Esi rolls her eyes. ‘You can’t use that as your yardstick. It was a different time back then, and anyway, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, isn’t it?’ Esi says.

  Rachael’s shaking her head.

  ‘That’s not true …’ I stop because the door’s just opened and in walks Aaron.

  Straight away, it’s like the air becomes lighter. I watch as he walks towards me, his hair slightly damp and wavy, like he’s been walking along the seafront. And I can’t explain it, not to Esi, maybe not even to myself, but sometimes the way a person smiles at you is all you need to know.

  I’m more positive than I’ve ever been in my life.

  He’s the real thing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aaron

  Gem’s smiling so widely, her face flushed, eyes full of warmth. So I don’t wait. I don’t even ask. I go right behind the counter, pick her up and twirl her around as she lets out a shriek, then push my lips to her laughing ones.

  It’s a struggle to break away, even while I’m conscious of the customers watching and her friend making a noise in the background between the click of a tongue and a sigh. After a few moments, Gem wriggles to be let down, and I can’t help squeezing her just that bit tighter, hear her say, ‘Oof!’ before I relax my grip so her feet slide back to th
e floor.

  I keep one arm around Gem’s waist as she kind of surveys the cafe, a hint of anxiety on her face. One or two of the old people have pursed lips, but a lady at a table further down is looking fondly in our direction. I fix my gaze on Gem and give her an abashed grin. ‘Couldn’t help myself. I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too.’ Gem sounds breathless.

  ‘Hi, Aaron.’ Rachael’s smiling broadly at me and I smile back at her.

  The friendly woman comes up with her empty cup for a refill. She looks at Gem and says, ‘You remind me of when I met my husband. Everyone said to wait, but we knew right away. Married six months later, and together fifty years now.’ She nods twice, and both Gem and Rachael turn with a look of triumph to Esi.

  ‘See?’ they say in unison, then both start to laugh.

  Esi rolls her eyes, looks at me and back at Gem, clearing her throat theatrically.

  ‘Oh! Aaron, this is Esi,’ Gem says. ‘I don’t think you two have officially met.’

  Esi sticks out her hand, which I take and for a second I think we’re going to get into a whose-grip-is-strongest pissing competition. But she’s Gem’s friend, so I give her a full-wattage grin and mentally cross my fingers she’ll like me.

  She gives me a steady look back, intelligence dancing in the depths of her eyes, like she’s working out all the pieces to a jigsaw puzzle. I find myself breaking eye contact first; girls like her bring out the old Aaron in me.

  ‘What are you doing here? I don’t finish for another hour,’ Gem says. ‘Not that I’m not pleased to see you!’ She gives a swift glance up the cafe, then plants a hasty peck on my cheek.

  ‘Couldn’t stay away from you,’ I say.

  ‘Gemma.’ Esi’s voice is firm, holding back irritation. ‘You know Dora won’t like it if she catches Aaron back here.’

  ‘She’s not here though, is she?’ Gem says. She’s going for teasing, but there’s an edge to her voice.