Chapter Seven
Anders
Sitting in Novel Tea with Bastian opposite me, looking more gorgeous than ever, was doing fucked-up things to my insides. I felt like all I wanted to do was smile, but the gesture was so unfamiliar it felt like my face would crack.
It was a bit awkward, but it was always going to be.
I just hoped my sullen personality wouldn’t put Bastian off, even if I was trying my best. I hadn’t realised how much I’d wanted to see him again until I’d woken up that morning feeling almost giddy, which was not a word I’d ever associate with myself.
When Bastian had messaged me to say he’d finished at the castle, I’d closed my laptop so fast I was worried I’d cracked the screen, and now that I was with him in person, my body seemed to have no idea how to respond.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this with a man, and that was both a damning indictment of my own life and a testament to how amazing Bastian was.
If I felt like this now, what would it be like if we spent more time together? If I stopped being such a coward and suggested we talk on the phone instead of hiding behind emails.
Bastian stirred his drink and looked at me with his beautiful honey eyes. “Besides, it’s not a wild goose chase if I get to see you again.”
I swallowed and stared at him, not sure what to say.
I wasn’t that special. “Thanks,” I said, painfully aware whatever I said next was going to dictate the rest of the evening.
That was a lot of pressure to put on a few simple words, and there was no backspace if I didn’t like what I said the first time.
I couldn’t rewrite my own dialogue until I got it right.
“I’m really glad you came. It’s good to see you again. ”
Bastian beamed, his sunshine smile releasing something tight inside my chest. It felt like relief. “I’m happy you’re happy,” he said quietly. “I was a little worried since we’ve only ever emailed. I was worried you wouldn’t really want to see me.”
“Why?” I frowned, and Bastian shrugged, reaching for his cake and the small fork Spencer had balanced on the edge of the plate.
“I don’t know.” He thought for a second while he chewed.
“Emails are one thing, I guess, but seeing someone in person is different…” He trailed off, and I wondered if there was more he wanted to say.
I didn’t push him, though, because my own feelings were complicated enough, and it felt too early to really verbalise them.
“I guess it is,” I said. “But I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t want to see you.
And if I hadn’t wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t have responded to your emails the way I did.
” I swirled the last of my coffee around my cup, trying to lay my thoughts out in front of me.
“I like talking to you, Bastian. I think you’re an interesting person.
” I thought he was gorgeous too, and sweet, and just being near him was almost overwhelming.
But I knew that was too much to say at once, so I stuck to simple.
It was a starting point.
“I like talking to you too.” We stared at each other for a minute, the air around us suddenly feeling charged like the calm before an almighty storm. “So,” said Bastian, gently breaking the moment before something happened neither of us could control. “How’re Fish and Barney?”
We finished up at Novel Tea and headed back out onto the street. The wind had died down, and the sun was just disappearing over the horizon in a spectacular burst of colour.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” I asked, looking down at Bastian. “We could go down to the beach. Low tide is at eight thirty-six tonight, so it’ll be on its way out, and it’ll be light enough to see.”
“Sure, that sounds great.” He nodded and smiled, and I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. I was too old for stomach flutters.
I turned and went to walk away, then stopped.
Without a word, and without looking at him, I reached my hand out towards him.
Time stretched for a second, then I felt Bastian’s hand slide into mine.
His skin was warm and soft as he squeezed my fingers, and I returned the gesture as I began to lead him towards the beach.
Neither of us spoke, but the silence didn’t feel awkward.
It felt familiar and comfortable like we’d been doing this for years instead of for the first time.
We walked down one of the ramps to the beach, which stretched out before us in a curve while the sun set the sea on fire.
The beach was mostly empty except for a few people walking their dogs.
Bastian seemed entranced by the row of colourful beach huts that stood at the edge of the sand.
Most of them were still locked up for the winter, although a couple showed signs of being cleaned up for the spring.
“Do you have one?” Bastian asked.
“No. It’s not my sort of thing,” I said. “I like the idea of one as a writing space, but in the summer the beach is too noisy, and in the winter it’s too stormy.”
“You could put one in your garden?”
“I could.” I nodded. “But my garden isn’t that big, and I have a nice desk in my office at home that looks out over the sea.”
“That sounds lovely,” Bastian said, squeezing my hand again. “I don’t have anything like that, but I’d love to.”
“Where do you usually work?”
“Wherever I can.” He shrugged. “In London, I use the flat’s dining room table or sit on my bed.
When I’m at August’s, I use his home office since he insists on it.
He and Lizzie offered for me to move in with them, and he was talking about setting me up a studio in some of the spare rooms since the house is enormous, but… I’m not sure.”
“Why not?” I asked gently, glancing down at his face to try to get a read on him. I knew he didn’t really like living in his London flat share, but it was practical and too expensive to get a place by himself. Moving in with his brother and sister-in-law sounded like a good solution to me.
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.
” He sighed and shook his head, his expression scrunching up.
“It’s like… it’s not my home. It’s theirs.
And while I know they’ll make me feel welcome and give me space and stuff, it still won’t be my home.
I want… I want somewhere I can put down roots, somewhere I belong.
Where I wake up each day feeling like the place is mine.
And I know that sounds silly because a home is where and what you make it, but… ”
“No, I get it. You want to live somewhere you choose, not a place chosen for you,” I said. I wanted to tell him Heather Bay could be that place, that he could make the town his home… with me, even if it was too soon to suggest something so outlandish.
“Yeah. That’s it.” His face softened, and he looked up at me. “Why did you choose here?”
“I grew up here.” We stopped walking, and I gazed out over the sea.
“For the longest time, I wanted nothing more than to leave. I felt trapped, and all I wanted was to get out and see the world. I left as soon as I could, and while I liked living elsewhere, nowhere felt the same. Whenever I came back, it felt like coming home, but I resisted for as long as possible because that felt like giving in. Then ten years ago, my mum died suddenly, and I moved back to help my brother sort out the house. It was only meant to be for a few months, but the relationship I was in broke down, and I stayed, bought my house, realised I like the peace and quiet, and that was it really. Wherever I go, Heather Bay still feels like home.”
“I like that,” Bastian said. “Nowhere has ever felt like that to me, not even where I grew up, although we moved around a lot when I was a kid, so that probably explains it.”
I turned towards him and gazed down into his beautiful eyes that looked like liquid amber in the last light of the sunset.
My hand reached out to cup his jaw, my thumb resting on his chin.
He was shorter than me but not by much, and we were suddenly so close I could see every detail of his face, including the dusting of freckles across his nose.
“Bastian,” I said, but I didn’t know how to follow it. I leant down and slowly brushed my lips against his.
There was a split second where Bastian froze, and I worried I’d horribly misread the entire situation, then his mouth pressed fiercely against mine.
His hand grasped the front of my jumper, keeping me in place while the world inverted on its axis.
Bastian’s lips were slightly chapped, and I tasted hints of chocolate and cream in his kiss.
When we finally broke apart, everything looked the same but felt entirely different as if something fundamental had shifted.
Bastian opened his mouth as a dusting of pink spread across the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I frowned. “I kissed you. Did you not want me to kiss you? You can tell me to fuck off if that’s the case.”
“N-no, it’s not that.” His face turned even pinker. “I really liked kissing you. I’ve… I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t think I was particularly kissable. Or loveable. Soren said that loving me, even as a brother, was like loving a stray cat that occasionally came around when it wanted food. It made me sound like Fish.
“Yes, really.” He grinned, which made his whole face light up and my stomach squeeze.
“I like you, Anders. I think… I think you’re amazing.
When I said I liked talking to you, I meant it.
It’s the best part of my day. You’re so clever and funny, and you always listen to me.
I know they’re just emails, but I don’t know if you realise how much they mean to me. ”
“I do,” I said, “because they mean the same to me.” A gentle sea breeze brushed across me as I tried to find the words to tell Bastian how I felt.
“I don’t know why you want to talk to me.
I don’t know why you like me. But I’m glad you do because getting an email from you turns any day into a good one.
You’re like a ray of sunshine—one I don’t deserve but will forever be grateful for. ”
“Anders… I… You’re amazing.”
“I’m a grumpy, belligerent asshole,” I said with a wry chuckle as I wrapped my arms around him to pull him against me. “But I’ll take amazing, especially if it’s from you.”
Bastian snorted before kissing me again.