Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
A quick glance around the pool area tells me Freddie’s not here. He’s been subjected to both Marcus and Gavin and if he’s decided to seek shelter back at the cottage I can’t blame him. I’m about to go and look for him, when he emerges from behind some shadowy bushes, his hand rubbing at his neck.
“I need a drink, and a large one.” The first words he says to me, a moment later. “And we need a talk, in private.”
“What’s happened?” He looks pale, even under the soft poolside lights.
Freddie shakes his head and makes for the bar, a man on a mission, and I follow him. A large vodka and tonic in hand, he downs it in one.
“Bloody hell,” he splutters, wiping his watery eyes.
“Freddie, will you tell me—”
“Andrew. He knows. About us, and our agreement.”
I groan as I thrust my fingers through my hair. If anybody was going to figure it out, it was Andrew. I’ve lied to my friend by omission, and my stomach churns at the thought that he must now think less of me. I’ve betrayed his trust, it’s as simple as that, and I’m a fool not to have confided in him from the start.
“I need to speak to him—”
“No, wait.” Freddie grabs my hand, jerking me to him. “Let’s talk, over there.”
Near the bushes, there’s a small stone bench, barely visible it’s so hidden in the shadows. His hand’s firm and warm in mine, and despite the shit show he’s just revealed, my galloping heart begins to calm.
“Tell me exactly what happened. I assume he was angry?” I say, as we sit down. I shudder. I’ve only ever seen Andrew’s temper truly break once, and it’d been seismic.
“He knows about us because I told him. Everything.”
“You did what?” My words fall from my lips as cold and hard as ice cubes.
“Just listen.” Freddie lays a hand on my thigh, his touch sending a tingling warmth through me. I shift, letting his hand slip from my leg, it’s a distraction I don’t need. “I went for a walk on the beach, and he followed me. He’d already rumbled us. How, I really don’t know, but he reckons nobody else has.”
“He confronted you.”
“He did, but he was very direct and very polite.”
Yes, that sounds like Andrew.
“I had no option but to tell him. It was either that, or I was going to have to leave, which would’ve definitely raised a few eyebrows.”
I slump forward on the bench. With my elbows on my knees, I stare down at the ground.
“I should’ve known better than to try and fool him. If anybody was going to see through it, it was going to be him. I’m going to find him, because I don’t want this festering.” I go to stand up, but Freddie grabs my arm, and pulls me back with a hard tug.
“He hasn’t asked me to leave. In fact, he said I should stay. Which is kind of odd. If I were him, I’m not sure I’d be so cool about it. And he’s not going to say anything, not even to Marcus.” Freddie frowns. “Why wouldn’t he tell him? They’re getting married in a couple of days.”
Why? That’s an easy one to answer.
“Because Marcus can’t be trusted not to run to Gavin with the news as fast as his legs can carry him.”
“What? Question marks over trust? Not the best way to start a marriage, or any relationship.”
The bitterness in Freddie’s words make me take a hard look at him. We may be in shadow, but there’s just enough light from the flares around the pool for me to see he’s frowning and his lips are pressed into a hard line that can’t quite control their slight quiver. Something hard and tight balls in the pit of my stomach. What, or who, has happened to hurt him? Because something, or someone, has. My heart goes out to him, because he’s too damn young for betrayal. The food and drink curdles in my stomach. Betrayal and the shattering of trust is something that’s meant to come later in life.
“Do you want to carry on with this?”
For a moment he says nothing, but when his face relaxes and his lips curve up in a smile, I know I have my answer.
“To everybody else here, we’re still a couple. I want to stay, I want to be who we agreed we’d be.” He speaks the words quietly and my heart hitches. “And anyway,” he says, a tinge of light laughter in his voice, “I was promised a free mini break in the sun, and all the booze I could drink. Why wouldn’t I want to stay?”
Relief riddled laughter bursts from me, thankful for his lighthearted words which shatters the tension. Yes, he’s been promised, but I hope he wants to stay for more than those.
“Come on.” He stands and holds out his hand to me. “Let’s show everybody how sickeningly in love we are. It’s a wedding party, after all, and it’s all about the romance.”
I place my hand in his, and try my hardest to ignore the thrill running through me.
And fail.
* * *
We slip from the shadows and return to the party. Andrew’s in deep conversation with somebody I don’t know. I itch to speak to him, to apologise, but it’s not the right time. For now, there’s nothing I can do and I tuck my frustration out of sight.
Gavin and Marcus are both milling around. Marcus is loud, and slightly screechy, as he always is when he’s had too much to drink, but Gavin’s watchful. I can all but feel his eyes boring into Freddie and me. And, I suspect, so can Freddie, because he plays his part to perfection.
Little glances, and smiles, small lingering touches that set sparks dancing over my skin. With his easy laughter and bright smile, he brings out the laughter and smiles in others. The light from the flares gilds his bright blond hair and brings soft colour to his pale skin, and his gold-green eyes sparkle. If he were my boyfriend for real, I’d be jealous of the blatantly admiring looks he’s attracting. My arm tightens around his waist.
Eventually the party begins to break up as people drift off to bed, and Freddie and I make our way along the winding path towards our cottage.
“It’s been a long and eventful day,” I say, as Freddie yawns long and loud.
“You can say that again. Why aren’t we in the main house? I’d have thought with you being a best man that’s where they’d have put us.”
“I suspect that’s because Gavin’s in there,” I say, as I let us in. “We came here for a big party when Marcus hit forty-five and they made the cardinal mistake of putting us in one of the cottages. Gavin took it as a huge slight that we weren’t in the villa, and made sure everybody knew it.” I shrug. “I always preferred staying in the cottages. Andrew and Marcus probably thought it safer to just have him in there and save the aggravation. They’ve enough to think about without Gavin’s tantrums.”
“I’m glad we’re in here,” Freddie says, as he opens the doors to the verandah. He leans on the frame, and looks out towards the sea, his sigh filling the room. “It reminds me of home, except it’s the grey North Sea crashing on the shore, rather than the Med.” He turns and smiles, and there’s something wistful in his expression, and I want to know more of his life before, and the cold northern sea.
“I’m going to make a hot drink. Want anything?” He bounds across the room to the small kitchen area, his voice bright and light, all wistfulness gone.
I follow him over, where he’s opening and closing cupboards, before emerging with a box of capsules for the coffee machine.
“There’s these, but I’d rather have tea. Proper tea, not the stuff they have abroad which is like gnats’ wee.” He grins sheepishly. “I’ve got a tendency to turn into a Little Englander when I go overseas, always complaining about the rubbish tea and the marked lack of Marmite.” A flush spreads over his face, and I narrow my eyes.
“You’ve brought some, haven’t you?”
“Erm, the Marmite, yes. I nestled it amongst my socks. To make sure it arrived safely.”
“Best place for it.”
He glares at me, but it can’t hide the laughter in his eyes.
“I’ll treat that comment with the disdain it deserves. But I forgot the tea bags. Don’t laugh,” he says, laughing himself. “Coffee’s great, I love coffee, but I have to start and end the day with a cuppa.”
“You don’t have to.” I meet his eyes, and smirk. He tilts his head, and studies me.
“You’ve got your own stash. Share.”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“No?” he says quietly, taking cautious steps away from the kitchen, edging to one side as he advances into the lounge.
I know what he’s going to do, and I’m ready for him as he lunges to the left, and I pounce to stop him. But I pounce into air. It’s a feint, as he swings to the right, laughing as he rushes to the bedroom, me on his heels, where we’ve stored both sets of luggage.
“Where are they? Where have you hidden them? They’re in a secret compartment in your suitcase, aren’t they?” He swings my empty case up onto the bed.
“If you touch my PG Tips…”
“So they are in here,” he crows, his voice triumphant.
He tugs at the zip, and I’m on him, pulling him away from my case, both of us laughing hard, acting like a couple of kids. He’s strong, but I’m stronger, in spite of our age difference, and I clamp my arms around him, forcing him hard against my body. His laughter cuts away, abrupt and sudden, and is replaced with hard pants, his hot breath sending a shiver across my burning skin. Night wraps itself around us, the only light coming from the moon, the only sound our heavy breaths.
He doesn’t resist as my arms tighten around him. We’re the exact height, a perfect match, our bodies fitting together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and as one our heads tilt, our lips loosening and parting, ready for the kiss that’s as inevitable and unstoppable as the rising of the sun and the ebb and flow of the waves.
A high-pitched shriek rips through the silence, tearing us apart.
“What’s that?” Freddie stumbles back a step, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “Sorry. Sorry. About the tea. Just mucking about, shouldn’t be going through your stuff. Sorry—”
I fall back, widening the distance between us.
“It was a Scops owl,” I croak.“We don’t have them in the UK.”
An owl? I’m talking about an owl?
“Right. Okay. Yeah, an owl.”
I throw the top of the case open, and pull out the small box of teabags from a zipped compartment.
“I’ll, erm, leave the drink. If you don’t mind,” he mumbles, still rubbing at the back of his neck.
My fingers itch to ease his hand away, to tell him it’s all right, but instead I take another step back, putting even more distance between us. It’s been a long and fraught day, we’re tired, we were mucking around, just releasing the day’s build-up of tension. That’s all it is.
“I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll take the sofa,” he says.
He goes to dodge around me, but I catch his arm. “I said no. You have the bed.”
“No, I—”
“If it makes you feel better, we’ll share it — I mean we’ll swap around, like you originally suggested,” I add quickly. “I’ll just grab some stuff and set up next door.”
“Okay. If you’re sure? I’ll, erm, just go and clean my teeth. Night.” He darts into the en-suite, closing the door behind him.
Moments later and bundled up with some quickly retrieved spare bedding, I make my way back to the lounge. Shutting the bedroom door behind me, the screech of an owl once more rips through the night, as the hammering in my chest rips through my heart.
