10. Caleb
Caleb
T he hardest days to sail were when there was absolutely no breeze. As a kid at school, I’d had an odd fascination with The Rime of the Ancient Mariner , particularly the part when there was no wind to propel the boat and it stayed still. That was how the last few years had felt; I had no breeze to move me forwards, no reason to shift in one direction or another until now.
There’d been times when I thought Zoey was interested in more than a friendship, but then she’d say something or do something that put me back into the friendzone and the boat I was on settled on water I knew well.
She’d caused a hurricane in the last twenty-four hours and I wasn’t sure how to steer myself through it.
I poured the champagne, a glass for each of us, and picked both of them up. I either put mine down on the table before I got to the bedroom or took both glasses in.
The scent of the bath stuff she’d used filled the air and I remembered the selfie she’d sent me once when she was in a bath filled with bubbles, drinking champagne.
I took both glasses into the bedroom, seeing the top of her head over the rim of the bath, facing a large window fractured with the London rain. She’d lit candles and dimmed the lights, outside already dusk.
My throat felt tight when I swallowed.
“Hey.” She turned around, looking over the bath at me, bubbles sliding slowly off her shoulders. I couldn’t see much below the top of them, although I suspected I was going to.
I wanted to.
“I’m not sure I want to go out in this.” I nodded at the window, wondering why the fuck I was now talking about the weather.
“The benefits of living over your local pub – no reason to get wet on the way there.” She reached for the champagne glass as I got closer, seeing more of her skin, the bubbles starting to reveal more.
“True. Maybe I’ll stay in the flat.” I tried not to look. “I always have food and beer when I’m living there.”
“You could keep champagne in your own home. And have a big bath like this, with a view over the Menai Strait.”
“And the rain would hit it just as hard as this.”
“It would. Cheers.” She lifted her glass to mine, bubbles slipping lower, the top of her nipples exposed.
I knew she knew what she was doing. I wasn’t sure I did.
“Cheers. Shall I sit on the bed? Unless you want to have some time on your own?” I hadn’t a fucking clue what to do. What I wanted to do was to strip and get in the bath with her, then get her as dirty as possible in the best way.
“Pull the chair up then I don’t feel like I’m drinking champagne on my own.” She pointed to the chair nearby, her bra placed on it with her underwear. Lace, like usual.
I smothered a groan because this was going to be torture, but I knew that when I carried my glass in with hers.
“What happens when the bubbles all go?” I pulled the chair closer, facing the window rather than the bath. I was hard, uncomfortably so, and I wished I’d changed out of my jeans, although then my state would’ve been obvious, again.
“You might prefer the view.” She spoke quietly.
I heard water splash, caught the scent of something that I associated with her, saw her reflection in the window as she sat up, her breasts exposed.
I didn’t turn around when I spoke, not wanted to actually see, not wanting to look into her eyes right now. “What happens if we sleep together?”
“It’ll be either really mind-blowingly good and even better than how we remember the first time, or it’ll be like the weather is now. A damp squid with no electricity.” More water splashed.
“What if it’s good? What happens after?”
“We do it again. And again. And again, and I don’t have a car coming to take me back to London.”
“We have one to Puffin Bay though.”
“I’m sure the driver won’t mind giving us some privacy in the back seat,” she laughed. “I’ve never had sex in a back seat.”
I had, but now wasn’t the right time to talk about that.
“You want to stop pretending when we’re in Puffin Bay?”
“I can’t think of a reason not to, Caleb.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“What if it does? Or is that the bit that scares you because you’ve still never had a relationship that’s lasted more than three months?”
I turned around then because she was right and wrong at the same time.
“I have. I’ve had a relationship with you for years.” I stood up and undid the buckle on my jeans, then pulled my sweater out, yanking it off and leaving me bare chested. Unless she told me no, I’d be inside her in under five minutes and having her come on my cock two minutes later, and from the look in her eyes as she watched me lose the jeans and my underwear, that wasn’t going to happen.
“I wasn’t sure how you classified a relationship. We’re friends - ”
“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s right, Rave.” I climbed in the bath, my cock hard and prominent, throbbing as it felt her gaze take in its length. “Move up.” I took the end of the bath opposite her, the bubbles dispersing so I could see more of her, her breasts lifted by the water, her nipples hard peaks even though the bath was more than warm. I stretched my legs out either side of hers, aware of her looking at me like I’d looked at her. “Friends don’t have baths together.”
“Is this your way of saying you want us to stop pretending we’re pretending?”
“I didn’t have to pretend anything, Zo. Being your boyfriend isn’t something I ever wanted to pretend to do.”
She shifted closer to me, not even trying to hide how she was looking at my cock. “Then stop pretending and let’s see how this goes.” She pushed her glass against mine softly then took a good drink. “How do you think a kiss will feel now?”
“I don’t think it’s just going to be a kiss, sweetheart.” I took the glass from her hand and put both of them on the floor. We needed both hands for this.
I moved my hands to her hips under the water, guiding her closer, her tits jewelled with the beads of water, her nipples hardening. She came to a seat on my waist, the movement sending some of the water over the rim and onto the floor, but that wasn’t a care for now.
A kiss was more important, a kiss with no one watching us, one that wasn’t for show or to tell Peter Cash that she was taken. Her lips were as soft as I remembered and she tasted of champagne and sugar, her arms coming around my neck and shoulders, her breasts grazing over my chest and her pussy next to my erection.
I had no idea anymore which way was up or what state my world would be in when I came up for air, if I ever did.
The bath water continued to sloppily escape as we moved, hands exploring territory last covered too many years ago. I bent my head low, capturing a nipple between my lips, teasing it slowly, purposefully, just in case this didn’t happen again. I wanted to rush, to scoop her out of the water and throw ourselves onto the mattress so I could bury myself in her, but that would take too few minutes and I needed to savour her this once, just in case.
Her hand grasped at my cock under the water, gently fisting it, the sensation painful with the only promise of relief if I thrusted into her hand.
“Slower.” I murmured the word, putting my hand over hers, changing the pace. “I need to last.”
“We can do it again. And again. And again. It doesn’t have to be just once.” She stole a kiss so I couldn’t reply and ask if that meant it could be forever. I swallowed those words instead. Like my orgasm, they could wait.
“Did you think to have a condom nearby?” I needed a practicality here, something concrete to focus on before I lost my mind completely. I cupped her tits, feeling their weight, rubbing over them with my thumbs, enjoying her shiver.
“You don’t need one. I’m on birth control. All good here.”
I kissed her neck, biting softly. “You’re sure?”
“Sure. But maybe not in the bath.” She tipped her head back, her hair loosening, giving me better access to toy with her breasts, memorising her reactions. Somehow, I lifted us out without slipping or knocking over the champagne glasses, getting us sat on the damp, overly large bathmat, Zoey straddling me, shifting her hips so her clit ran against my cock.
Rain pounded harder against the glass, London now just a sea of lights blurred by the weather, but my attention was on Zoey, her hair now loose, her skin flushed from the heat of the bath and this, whatever it was that we were doing.
Whatever it was that we were about to do.
She shifted up on her knees, angling her hips over my cock which she’d taken hold of. “I need to feel you in me, Cay.”
I cupped her pussy, running a finger through her folds and feeling the slick heat there, pushing a finger inside her, keeping it slow. “Is this just for me?”
“Yes.” She shifted her hips, trying to take more control. “But I really want to fuck you.”
I moved my hand away, something snapping, and shifted her onto her back, her legs wrapping around my waist, heels digging into my arse. “My turn first.”
I slid inside her, slow at first because I knew I was bigger than average and setting off like a runaway train didn’t do anyone any favours. Pausing, I took a deep breath, everything blurring apart from Zoey’s pretty face below mine, her lips red and parted, her curls wild spread around her head like a halo, eyes wide and back bucking up slightly; urging me on.
“I won’t break, Cay.”
“I know.” But I might. If I wasn’t already so broken for her.
I started to move, falling into a place that was a piece of heaven, a space that contained just me and her, and I remembered what she’d liked years before, a shift in the angle, a change in the rhythm, shallow, shallow, shallow and then deep and she tightened around my cock, groaning my name, strings of words that were indecipherable and didn’t matter as I felt tightening and then a relief as I slammed harder into her, coming inside her, losing my vision and whatever I had left of my mind.
I half collapsed on top of her, our breaths loud and hard, limbs just starting to move again. There was a messy kiss, no finesse just all lips and teeth, slow and lazy now, words floating in the ether, not yet caught.
I pulled a towel over us, more for warmth now we’d slowed to a still. “You still want to do that again?”
She clenched her muscles around my cock, still buried deep inside her. “And again and again and again. But I think we should have that bath first and finish the champagne. Or do you still want to go out?”
“I want to stay in.” I moved my hips just enough so that she caught my meaning. “I’m just pretending that nothing else exists outside of here right now.”
“I can do that too.” She wriggled round so her head was on my chest, my cock shifting out of her. “I should clean up too.”
I realised she was referring to what I’d left behind inside her. “How does it feel? My cum inside you?”
“Like I’ve been well-fucked. That’s the first time I’ve done that.”
I propped my head up on my elbow, studying her laid out, half naked where the towel had slipped away. She was beautiful, which I’d always known, but even more so now.
I could never be just her friend again, even if that meant breaking my own heart.
“Really?”
“Really. What about you?”
I shook my head. “You don’t need to know about that.” Because it wasn’t the first time for me, although I wished it was.
“Okay. I do need to go to the bathroom though. Shall we try the bath again?”
We did. I re-ran it, feeling guilty about the water usage and forgetting that guilt when Zoey walked naked across the bedroom and slipped back into the bath. I hadn’t bothered with the bubbles this time, wanting to be able to see more of her.
I got in behind her, letting her use my chest as a backrest, wrapping my arms around her middle and resting back. I wondered whether I was in a state of shock and how long it would take to process what’d just happened. Pieces of my life rearranged themselves, sliding into different spaces, clunky, awkward. I pushed those feelings away, concentrating on the naked woman in my arms, wishing I could read a snippet of what was going on in her mind.
She turned her head round to me, her hair now tied up in a messy bun. “Any regrets?”
“Not one.” Which was true. “You?”
“That we didn’t do this again sooner.”
Any worries went. “I’m still the best you’ve ever had?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll need to try you out a few more times before coming to that conclusion.” She rested her head back against my shoulder, rushing water over us. “Can you reach the champagne?”
It wasn’t as cold as it had been, but champagne was always drinkable. We sipped it in the bath while the water cooled, watching the drops clear from the window now the rain had stopped, the view clearing, London illuminated again and we talked about her house, about where I wanted to live, about the dreams we still had and the dreams we thought we were starting to have.
They were tentative, these plans, vague clouds of ideas that hadn’t taken a form yet, mainly theoretical. We talked about houses, what we’d ideally like, where they would be and what we’d want to do to make them ours, and we talked about them as if they were separate entities rather than a joint project.
After the water had cooled, we dried off. I watched Zoey coat herself with moisturiser, offering to help because standing there observing made me feel too much like a voyeur and my hands itched to touch her again.
We slept in the same bed after the moisturising turned into more, which evolved into more champagne in bed, room service sent up so we didn’t have to leave and we could just ignore London and Puffin Bay and Peter Cash and resurrect those night from years before.
Zoey fell asleep before me, curled up with her back against my chest, her backside pushed against my groin. She’d slipped into that nightdress because she didn’t like sleeping naked in hotel beds, but I’d already warned her she wouldn’t be clothed in the morning.
Then she’d made me make that a promise.
Returning to Puffin Bay felt like the start of September after the summer school holidays had ended, the fleeting magic of freedom had dissipated leaving just the summer’s detritus as a memory.
It was, of course, raining when the car service drove down the road towards the bay, the sky a swirl of dark blues and grieving greys. I was on call for the lifeboat this evening, which I wasn’t thrilled about as I was keen to spend more time alone with Zoey after what had ended up being a busy couple of days in London.
We’d visited her house with the removal company, and I’d watched her make decisions and assert herself like I hadn’t done before. She was focused and determined, her mind made up, and by the end of Monday, there was a date for completion when she’d no longer own the house she now associated with Peter Cash and all of her furniture and belongings were either being sold or put into storage, with the exception of the recording equipment which would be making its way to Puffin Bay in a week’s time, meaning she had a week to find somewhere for it to go.
I’d decided not to pass comment on that.
“Will Finn be in the pub tonight?” She put her hand on my knee and squeezed, the car coming to a stop in the Puffin Inn’s car park. “I really need to ask him about his storage space.”
Finn Holland owned a farm which he’d converted into a gin distillery. There was a main farmhouse, a huge ex-barn that was the distillery and numerous outbuildings over several acres. Some of those outbuildings had been made good for storage over the years, which Zoey was aware of. There was a high chance that one might be turned into a temporary recording studio if she had her way.
“He might be. He’s on call tonight as well.” It was a Tuesday, the same five of us were on call most weeks, and most weeks we met for a pint of lime and soda in the inn, mainly to chew the cud. It was rare a call out happened during the week after seven in the evening, but not unheard of.
“I’ll try to find him. Or Ruby. It’ll only be for a couple of months until I’ve bought somewhere.”
The driver, who’d been a total professional, opened the boot and took out Zoey’s luggage, and my small suitcase. We’d been dressed for the gala, so we didn’t have any hefty outfits to sort out, and I travelled light even if Zoey did not.
We were met by Amelie and my dad, Gully lurking somewhere in the background with Aurora, his eldest kid and only girl. Technically, she should’ve still been in school, so something must’ve gone on.
“How was London?” My dad picked up one of Zoey’s bags. “We saw the video of you on the red carpet. Amelie insisted re-enacting it, including the punch.”
“Our version, not yours.” She gave Zoey a hug. “You looked fabulous. No regrets having to come back here?”
Zoey laughed, shaking her head. “London isn’t home anymore, thank god.” She picked up a small suitcase that contained make up and lotions and other shit I now knew more about because we’d shared a bedroom for three days.
“Good, well things have happened since you’ve been away.” Amelie raised her brows.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
She shook her head, leading us into the pub, organising us so we brought our luggage in there.
The Puffin Inn had its usual regulars in for this time of day and this time of year. The chair where Mavis would’ve sat was empty, as it always was at the moment. No one still dared sit there.
“You can’t use the flat.” Amelie sat down at the first table we came to. “That’s the headline news.”
I glanced at my dad and then back to Amelie. “I wasn’t that bad a tenant.”
“To be fair, you were.” She raised an eyebrow and studied me. “The boiler had a moment and decided to leak. Unfortunately, the damage is pretty extensive and there’s no way you can live there. I’m having it stripped back to the brick and made good which I should’ve done ages ago.”
“What damage is inside? Is my sofa okay? What about the pub kitchen?” The flat was directly over the pub’s kitchen and if there’d been a leak, it could’ve damaged that. The boiler, however, only served the flat, so it being broken didn’t mean that the rest of the inn was affected.
Guilt was the overwhelming feeling. I’d moved in there as a student and Amelie had moved in with my dad. She’d treated it as my private space, not interfering, but if I hadn’t have been there she would’ve done the building work that was needed much sooner.
“We had a leak and had to close the kitchen over the weekend, but it’s safe and clean to use now. Not your fault, just one of those things, but you’re both homeless. There’s a temporary solution though.” She glanced at my dad.
“Not the hotel?” I didn’t fancy staying in a hotel for at least a few weeks and I knew Zoey definitely wouldn’t.
Amelie shook her head. “No. Mavis’ cottage is empty. It’s only small – probably the same size as the flat but over two floors – kitchen, living room, bedroom, very small boxroom and bathroom, but the town council has said you can stay there in the interim.”
Mavis had left her house to the town, to be maintained by the town council and for use of the townsfolk in case of emergencies. So far, it’d been lived in by one of the elderly residents who’d needed somewhere to stay while her flat was redecorated and by a mum and daughter who’d come to Puffin Bay to escape a toxic situation in England.
“I’ll take it. Zoey?”
She grinned at me and nodded. “I think it’ll be fun and I need to get myself sorted with somewhere permanent to live anyway. Maybe you could lodge with me then.”
I saw a look pass from Amelie to my dad, knowing them too well to not know what that look meant.
“Roe’s already checked the house out for security and installed a system inside and that also covers the gardens and footpath.”
“You knew we’d say yes?” I frowned at my dad.
“There wasn’t another choice. The rooms here are fully booked. Your sofa’s fine – that part of the flat wasn’t affected, so you just need to pack up what you need and store everything else at Finn’s. Want a coffee? I know you’re on call tonight.” He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me over to the bar, leaving Amelie and Zoey carrying on with whatever they were saying. “That dip was impressive.”
“It was, I agree.”
He nodded, glancing over at Zoey. “There were lots of photos of you in the media. You made it look very convincing that you were a couple.”
There’d been another published this morning, then reposted on Zoey’s socials because it was an insanely good photo where we did look like a couple who were besotted with each other.
“We might be.”
His expression gave nothing away. “Might? Did something happen when you were in London?”
“Yeah, it did.” I wasn’t into sharing details with anyone about things like that, and definitely not my dad.
He nodded, glancing over at Zoey again, who was still talking at speed with Amelie. There was a lot of gesturing going on as well, so she definitely wasn’t paying any attention to me.
“I’m not surprised. Maybe I am, but that’s because I’m surprised it’s taken this long to happen.” He asked Alys for two coffees.
“I don’t know how long she’ll be here for though.”
“She’s talking about buying a house here, kid.” He frowned. “That tells you something.”
“Maybe. But she can have a house here but end up being based somewhere else. My job’s here – unless I’m on a research project, and she’s burned out. I don’t know if the decisions she’s making now will be ones she’s happy with in a few months’ time or when everything with this stalker’s finished with.” Those were my fears.
The wind was blowing my ship, we had movement after years of stagnation, but where I ended up and in what state was unpredictable.
“You’ve just summed up my life with Amelie.”
I frowned at him, curious. “You’ve been here for fourteen years. You’re married. She loves it here.”
He shrugged. “She changes her mind frequently. I’m never a hundred percent sure she’s not going to suggest selling up and opening a bar on a tropical beach somewhere I’ve never heard of, or starting a new business selling pixie dust. I like it that way though.”
“And if she wanted to do that, you’d follow her.”
“Of course. And she knows that, even when I argue the toss with her about it. This weekend’s been interesting with the flat and what to do with you.”
“I’m thirty. I am sort of capable.”
“Yeah, you can be. And maybe this will be the final kick up your arse to get your own place. There are two properties up for sale that overlook the Strait. I’ll send you details.” He stopped, tapping my pocket. “You’re ringing.”
I pulled out the pager I had on me. “We have a call out. See you later.”
Seven Years Ago
I wondered whether I was hallucinating at first, whether I was seeing a mirage incited by the heat and the strangeness of the place, and just plain need. But it turned out I wasn’t.
“Caleb.” Her smile was wide and could swallow the world, blonde curls blowing around her face. Her face was without make-up and she looked as young as she had the first day I met her. “Hey.”
There was hesitation there. She paused, her feet not moving. Usually she’d be running at me like a demon trying to take over my body, but she was a statue instead.
I thought quickly about what I might’ve done in the last few weeks. The selfie on the plane with Anna-Maria might’ve been it. Anna was pretty, not in the same league as Zoey, but then no one was, as she was friendly, and very, very into her girlfriend. I knew Zoey hated being what she saw as a third wheel when I had a girlfriend, but she was never a hanger on. There’d been a few times when I’d ended things with a girlfriend because I knew Zoey was coming and I didn’t want to negotiate between them.
So seeing her now was like clouds clearing from the sky.
“I can’t fucking believe you’re here.” I took off, rushing to her and pulling her into me, twirling her round and not giving a shit who saw or filmed or cared. Zoey was here and that was Christmas Day on speed.
“I told you I’d come to Mozambique!”
I put her down, still holding onto her, wanting to kiss her because I always had, ever since that first time.
“I wasn’t sure about coming and then I realised I might never have another reason to come here.” Her arms stayed around me. “Puffin Bay was strange without you.”
“I bet.” I hugged her again. “Where are you staying?”
“I’ve booked a hotel with a suite, two rooms, if you wanted to crash with me. I know how crappy uni accommodation usually is.”
She did because she’d often stayed with me in it. This wasn’t the first time she’d turned up when I was somewhere on a research project.
“How long are you here for?”
“A week. And it’s a holiday so I can just chill out, relax. Sightsee . Write some lyrics.”
That sounded about right. She didn’t stop with the writing, like she needed to do it to live.
“I’ll see if I can get some time away. It shouldn’t be an issue.” I wasn’t the main person here, although one day I hoped to be. I’d taken the place of a bloke who’d blagged his way onto the trip and wasn’t really needed, so I was just here for the ride. I could live with that. The stuff they were doing here was amazing, the ocean, the environment, the people – I wanted to be here for longer and at the same time I didn’t.
Zoey made it feel easier.
“That’d be good. I’m not crashing your style though? The girl on the plane - ”
“Just someone on the same flight coming here. She’s a research student too and she has a girlfriend studying zoology.”
“Oh. I was worried I’d be getting in the way.”
“You’re never in the way. You should know that by now. Just like what you say to me when I turn up when you’re on tour.”
She laughed, putting a few inches of distance between us and looking at me. “This is nicer than being on tour. And I’m always single when I’m touring. Pretty much. I’m pretty much always single.”
“Can’t think why.” I meant that. There was no sarcasm. She was everything – gorgeous, charismatic, talented, clever – I’d listed all her qualities to my dad one night when I’d had too many beers, and I couldn’t understand why no one had claimed her as his yet.
Although I was so fucking grateful they hadn’t.
“I’m hard work.”
“You’re not hard work.” I looked at her, trying to read what she wasn’t telling me. “Who’s said that you are?”
“Robbie. The guy I was seeing.”
“Then he’s a fool. Let’s go somewhere we can get a drink and talk.” I waved at one of the other research students I’d flown out with. We were finished for the day, although it was only just past noon. “You can tell me about Robbie and I can hire a hitman.”
“He’s okay. He works for the promoter for the latest tour and I thought he was fun.” She carried on, telling me how he’d taken her out for a meal then expected her to pay, asking her to book a suite for him on her money so he could stay somewhere better than where his company had put him up.
I kept my clenched fists out of her sight and listened, like I’d done in the past, wondering why people were so fucking superficial.
We went snorkelling afterwards, her heart spilled out so we needed something to set everything right again.
She held my hand while we snorkelled, making it awkward but the same time making everything right.
It always was when she was there.