CHAPTER TWENTY
Jamie – Thirteen Years Ago
Why didn’t I break up with her before coming to Scotland? I ask myself for the millionth time as I get off the phone with Cat.
I like her—I do—but I don’t miss her between our weekly calls, and that tells me something.
We’ve had three since I arrived. Gran and Grandad only allow me one per week because of the cost, and all she talks about is cheer camp and practice. She never asks me what I’m doing, and though she says she misses me, I’m not sure she really does.
It’s probably better that she’s not asking, considering all my stories revolve around Avi and I spending time together. Every single one.
If I’d broken up with Cat, I know I would’ve kissed Avi that first day on the roof… and every day after. That’s part of why I didn’t. Not because I don’t want to kiss Avi—it’s the opposite, really. Which definitely makes me a shit boyfriend.
I didn’t want to risk ruining what Avi and I have.
I love our summers together, and it’s not like we can be girlfriend and boyfriend anyway.
We don’t even live on the same continent anymore.
Maybe if I’d stayed in Scotland it could’ve been possible, but it will only ever be the summers for us.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she wanted it to be more and our friendship broke.
But I think about that first kiss more often than I should. Even though I’ve kissed more than my fair share of girls since then, none of them felt as good as that one with Avi—and there wasn’t even tongue.
So, instead of filling our time with kissing, we’ve been systematically crossing off adventures from my notebook for the last three weeks. She brought her bike with her, which has given us a lot more freedom. If it’s within biking distance, we’ve done it.
We’ve gone into town for a couple of shinty matches with my old schoolmates. They all look at her in a way I’d rather they didn’t, but she hasn’t taken a fancy to any of them—thank god. Not that I could say anything if she did. She can fancy anyone she likes… I just don’t want her to.
We’ve gotten fish and chips in the next town over and popped in and out of every shop in Cluaran at least ten times. The shop owners welcomed me back with open arms and asked how Mum and Dad are, how we like things in the States. And if they didn’t know Avi before, they definitely do now.
On the hotter days, we end up down at the loch where someone built a rope swing.
I love watching Avi laugh from the shore after I take a running swing out into the water, but I love it even more when she follows me.
Those are the hardest days to keep from kissing her.
Her swimsuit isn’t all that revealing—I guess her mum knew her grandparents wouldn’t allow her to wear a bikini—but the way it fits her is a dream. My dream, at least.
We’ve done just about every hike in the area too, so today we’re sneaking off for a bigger adventure. One we’ve kept under wraps, because I doubt the grandparents would approve… Hers or mine.
Gran and Grandad have always given me a lot of freedom in the summers, just like my parents did when they were here.
I’ve never been one to get into trouble.
My dad’s a firm believer in giving me enough rope to hang myself with and hoping that I don’t.
But Avonlea’s grandparents are much stricter, and I feel like we’re forever reassuring them that we aren’t out causing trouble.
They know exactly where we are or where we’re going at all times.
So for today’s adventure, we might’ve told a little white lie.
I mean, we will be seeing Armadale Castle. It’ll just be from the water instead of the grounds.
I hop on my bike that was leaning against the cottage and head for the road.
“You ready?” Avi asks when I get to the end of the drive. She’s standing astride her bike in a pair of navy-blue shorts, a T-shirt that shows a sliver of her smooth stomach, and her denim jacket.
I swallow thickly. “Aye, let’s go.” I shoot her a wink and watch her cheeks go pink before she saddles up and sets off.
The bike ride between Cluaran and the Armadale Ferry Terminal isn’t too long, though it’s the farthest we’ve gone this summer. Avi responds to most of my questions with short answers, and when I ride up beside her, she’s chewing her lip.
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I say, wishing I could give her a reassuring hug—but one, we’re on bikes, and two, we haven’t really touched at all this summer.
“No, I want to. I just… I don’t want to get in trouble.” She bites down on her lip again as she glances my way.
“We won’t. We’ll be back well before dinner and no one will have a clue. But if you want, we really can go tour the castle.”
She shakes her head, her shorter hair brushing the tops of her shoulders.
I’m still not sure how I feel about this new style.
She’s bonny—she always is—but I loved the way her hair used to hang down her back in long waves.
It was carefree and she never worried about it getting messy, she’d just throw it in a braid and be done with it.
Now she spends an hour of her morning—I know because I’ve had to wait every day—styling it and getting the curls just right.
I’ve noticed the makeup she wears now too.
I don’t like how it hides the freckles on her cheeks.
“Okay, well good, because the ferry is here and we better get on it.” I offer her my cheekiest grin—the one that never fails to garner a blush from the girls back home, and I’m rewarded with one from her as well. Score.
We peddle down to the dock and I buy us tickets with the cash Mum and Dad gave me before I got on the plane to fly here.
They weren’t able to make the trip with me because of where they are in the process of getting the distillery up and running.
It was my first time flying by myself, and while I loved the independence, I did get a little lonely.
We walk our bikes onto the ferry that will take us away from Skye and to the mainland of Scotland, our biggest adventure yet.
We find a couple of seats on the upper deck and watch the water churn behind us. Armadale Castle sits overlooking the water in the distance. “See, we saw the castle.” I nudge Avi’s shoulder with mine and she pushes back with a smile on her face and a brightness to her brown eyes.
She hasn’t looked at me like that since the first day on the roof. I’ve missed that look.
The wind picks up and her body shivers against my side. I feel warm all over, but that has nothing to do with the temperature. “You cold?” I ask.
She shakes her head, but I don’t believe her. Her outfit isn’t doing much to ward off the chill. I pull off my hoodie and hand it to her. It’s my new one from Empyreal, the ski resort in Tahoe where I learned to snowboard this past winter.
The look she gives me when she runs the fabric through her hands makes my heart inflate in my chest. It’s like the moment in a movie when the heroine says my hero, and I realize I kind of want to be her hero.
She pulls it on over her denim jacket and it knocks free the small braid she had pinned by her ear.
I grasp it between my fingers and set it back, deftly grabbing the pin and fixing it to where it was.
I stare into her eyes and watch the golden flecks in their brown depths shimmer in the afternoon sun.
She shivers again when my thumb brushes the shell of her ear.
“Thanks.” Her voice is quiet, just above a whisper.
“Welcome,” I say, and then because I feel like being reckless, I wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. It’s just this side of being too friendly, but I wouldn’t have thought twice about it last year, so I tell myself it’s fine.
She doesn’t pull away. She stays snuggled tight into my side for the entire ferry ride, watching Skye shrink in the distance. She fiddles with the cuffs on my sweatshirt and I want to hold her hand so badly, wrap it in both of mine…
The boat approaches the dock—just in time to keep me from doing something stupid.
When Avi stands up, it’s clear how big the sweatshirt is on her as it nearly hides her shorts entirely.
She moves to take it off, but I stay her hand at the hem, liking the way my fingers accidentally trail over her thigh far too much.
“Keep it. I’m fine, and this way we can sit outside while we eat lunch.”
“Alright.” Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at me. “Thanks, Jamie.”
We walk our bikes off the ferry, as far from Cluaran as I’ve ever been without either my parents or grandparents.
We didn’t often go to the mainland, and I’ve definitely never done it by myself.
But there’s a small restaurant called The Bakehouse that sits just on the quay where you can watch the boats come in and out, and that’s our destination.
Lunch on the quay with my best friend. Just the two of us. It’s not like it’s a date… but it feels like one.
We lock up our bikes just outside the old stone exterior and the smell of fresh baked bread wafts around us, mingling with the soft scents of the sea and the flowers spilling out of the baskets that hang on either side of the door.
Avi begins bouncing up and down on her toes when we walk inside and see the bakery case.
It’s overflowing with croissants, danishes, sticky buns…
It’s a baker’s dream, and I wish I could take a loaf of bread back to Gran and Grandad for us to have with dinner tonight… but that would give away our secret. I should’ve just told them, but they would’ve told the Campbells.
“So, which one will it be?” I ask Avi.
She’s practically salivating over the selection. “The Baklava danish. Definitely. You?” She turns and we’re nearly eye to eye. She grew several inches this year, and while I also grew, I’m only just taller than her at the moment.
“The maple pecan danish… and pizza.”
“Well, duh.” She knocks me with her shoulder and I restrain myself from wrapping my arm around hers again.