Chapter Twenty-Five
The evening was still. In the town hall, Fox Bay would be celebrating and tucking into the biggest Cornish pasty ever made (or nearly the biggest). It felt very far away to Ivy as they strolled slowly across the sand.
‘I can’t believe we pulled it off,’ Ivy said. ‘The props held up to some pretty strenuous sword-play. No one cried. Except Mr Hargreaves, but he always cries.’
‘I’m sorry about London and Madison,’ Trip said suddenly. ‘I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression—’
‘It’s fine,’ Ivy said. In a few weeks he would be gone anyway, she thought. ‘I mean, I didn’t really care.’
‘Right,’ Trip said, his caramel eyes meeting hers in the moonlight. ‘Is that why you painted the set with snow? Because you didn’t really care?’
Ivy shrugged, flushing. ‘I wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Let’s not make a thing of it.’
‘I’m absolutely making a thing of it,’ Trip said. ‘It was really special. It’s one of the nicest things anyone has done for me.’
‘I just felt inspired. You’d been talking about snow on the beach and I knew how impossible that was. And then I thought that art is all about impossible things and it gave me the idea.’
Trip nodded thoughtfully. ‘Got it. So, what you’re saying is … I’m your muse.’
She groaned. ‘Oh no. I’ve created a monster. This is where your ego gets out of control.’
Trip stopped and traced a shape in the sand with his foot. ‘You know Brooke will be here all next year, filming,’ he said tentatively. ‘We could hang out.’
Ivy took a deep breath and stopped too. ‘Trip, let’s be real,’ she said, hardening her heart against his earnest expression.
‘I think you’re great. If we were in the same place?
Then yes, I would definitely want to hang out.
But what you’re talking about is long distance and …
well, I don’t think so. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks.
For long distance, you need some serious passion and commitment. ’
‘And you don’t think we could have that?’ said Trip, frowning.
‘I – that’s not the point. There’s optimism, which I can just about get on board with, and then there’s delusion. If you’re studying in the States and I’m over here …’ Her voice cracked and she trailed off.
‘Right,’ Trip said, his brow clearing. ‘I see what you mean. Only you see, the school I accepted a place at isn’t in the States.’
‘It’s not?’
‘No.’ He rocked on his heels. ‘I went for UCL. Accepted the offer last week. And before you freak out and tell me I’m making a huge mistake picking a college based on a grumpy artist I’ve only known a few weeks …’
‘Um,’ said Ivy, ‘you might have taken the words out of my mouth.’
‘Well, first of all, it’s my life. And second of all, the reason I wanted to go to London with Brooke last week was to check it out properly because I was already thinking of studying there.
We went to the campus, looked around the halls of residence.
Brooke’s behind this too. UCL is the only college that does the exact philosophy course I want.
There are loads of reasons for me to study here in the UK that are nothing to do with you, Ivy Pearson. ’
‘Fine,’ said Ivy, a smile starting. ‘I won’t take it personally then.’
‘But also … this is always going to be what I’m like, you know? I’m always going to say yes to something big and impractical and slightly ridiculous.’ Trip shrugged. ‘It’s what Grandma would want me to do.’
There was a pause. Ivy could feel her heart beating fast in her chest. Something big and impractical and slightly ridiculous … but also, why not? Maybe she could get used to saying yes after all.
‘It would still be long distance,’ Trip went on. ‘But, you know, slightly less long distance.’
His expression was serious, focused on her with the same searching look as that night at the Winter Wonderland. One that made her feel seen.
Ivy tilted her head. ‘If we’re really going to give this ridiculous idea a try …’
‘Yeah?’
‘Then I should at least know what Trip is short for,’ she said.
A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘Is that your condition?’
‘It is,’ Ivy said firmly. ‘No more secrets, remember? Come on. Tell me.’
Trip hesitated, then looked sheepish. ‘Um. Okay. Fine. It’s short for … Edward.’
She stared. ‘Edward? Trip is short for Edward? But … how?’
He scratched the back of his neck. ‘Trip’s just because I’m the third Edward. Like, triple-Edward? Grandad, Dad, me. Three Edwards. But Mom and Dad didn’t love it so they nicknamed me Trip and it stuck.’
Ivy burst out laughing. ‘You’re actually Edward the third? Like … like a king?’ She was still laughing as she took a step closer, shaking her head. ‘Edward. The Third.’
‘Don’t make it weird,’ he murmured. ‘Literally no one calls me that. I’ve been Trip since I was born.’
‘All right, Edward.’ She stepped closer and added softly, ‘Do you hate it? If you hate it I’ll forget I ever heard it.’
He considered her, reaching out a hand and pushing a lock of her hair behind one ear. She could feel her cheek tingling once again from his touch. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. ‘I don’t hate it from you,’ he said at last.
Trip leaned in then, and she took yet another step closer. He kissed her.
It wasn’t the gentle kiss Ivy might have expected.
It was fierce, like all their moonlit walks and paper-folding sessions and hours spent in the town hall, covered in dust and paint, had been building to this.
His hand slipped to her waist, pulling her in.
It felt so unbelievably right, Ivy thought dazedly. Like they already knew each other.
And then, just as they broke apart, still smiling …
A snowflake landed on Ivy’s cheek.
She looked up. There was another. And another.
Trip tilted his face to the sky, his eyes wide. ‘No way,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t tell me you organised this too.’
Ivy reached out her hand as the soft flakes fell, melting almost as soon as they touched her fingers. ‘Looks like you finally got your magic.’