SEBASTIAN
SEBASTIAN
"I am ravenous !" Brianna says, stepping out of the farmhouse ahead of me. "All I can think of is food. Specifically, carbonara."
"Guess I know where we're heading to first then, huh?"
She spins around, flashing a playful grin my way before she starts across the drive. The weather isn't so fiercely against us this evening, we intend to make the most of it, and her spirits are high. "If you don't want me grouchy, yes, I'd strongly recommend we—"
The distinctive sound of gravel crunching under tyres cuts her off, jarring her to an immediate halt as she whips her head toward the gate and the car turning in through it.
I turn my back to pull the front door closed, not needing to look to know what I'll see.
"—do," Brianna finishes lamely. "He's expected?"
Craig shuts off his engine somewhere close behind me. "Sort of," I shrug. And as ever, his timing is damningly impeccable.
"Not still sniffing around Ash, is he?"
It feels good to be able to shake my head at that; if for nothing else, I've no lingering concerns there. "Actually, he's been working on my truck."
"Your truck?" Her tone is sceptical. "He doesn't much have the look of a trained mechanic."
"No. But his knowledge far exceeds mine, and his efforts are free." Also, I have to hand it to him; he's determined.
Craig didn't return on Saturday morning, his note for me simply reading 'Can't today. I'll come through the week'. I'd snorted, writing him off. But true to his word, for the past four days since, somewhere between late afternoon and early evening, he's shown up and worked hard. In all honesty, the frustrated stream of curses I've heard from him suggests to me he's getting nowhere fast, and the hour is late enough this evening that I'd all too readily given him up as done. Yet, here he is again, forcing me to check myself.
Moving from the house to Brianna's side, I take her hand and give it a squeeze, reassuring her that this disturbance won't hold up our plans for long. We wait for Craig to get out of his car.
"I had Chrissy," he says in the way of an apology as he shuts the driver's door and straightens. "Took him to spend some time with Alex." His eyes flick between us and then drop to our entwined fingers with a fleeting grimace. "And now I'm interrupting your date, I take it?"
"Yes," Brianna's swift to agree, slanting me a look.
"Where is it you're going? I could give you a lift, maybe?"
"Thanks, but…" I retrieve Judy's car key from my coat pocket and jingle it toward where her red Micra is parked a few metres beyond Craig's elegant GT-R. "It's Judy's night off. She'll let you into the shed if you want to hang around for a bit; make your trip out here worthwhile."
"Oh. Okay. Sure." He doesn't move.
Just as with every other time he's called here, his shoulders are rigid with tension, and I note patent uncertainty in the set of his jaw. He'll find some release in a session with my truck, I know. But I don't have the time to coax him from this point to that point tonight. Brianna's already dropped my hand and taken a step away, busily fussing with her scarf. "Stay as long as you want," I give him an extra little nudge. "Ash is due back from Steph's any minute now."
A slight nod is his only response as I pass by him to my aunt's car.
"Calling ahead would've saved him a wasted trip," Brianna mutters, climbing into the passenger seat next to me.
When we pull off the drive onto the road, Craig remains unmoved and undecided. "Yeah," I reply, casting a final glance in the rearview mirror. "He has a weird aversion to using his phone." To communicating in general, truth be told.
I'm thankful that she's keen to dismiss him the instant he's out of sight. Her mind switches straight back to the food, and the rest of the short trip into town passes with an easy conversation about our imminent face-filling and maize-mazing fun. We've just over an hour to eat before we're due to meet a group of Brianna's friends at the middle-of-nowhere site outside of town. I find a parking spot at the top of Yoverton's high street, and she links her arm through mine as we hurry down to the enticing warmth of Citreena's Bistro.
When we step inside, however, it's to find the large room heaving with diners. And my good humour takes another hit when my hopeful sweep for a free table fails to snag on any.
"Oh, wonderful!" Brianna huffs.
I press my lips and sweep again.
The girl serving behind the bar catches my eye with an apologetic shake of her head.
A tinkling bell announces the door opening behind us, but the arriving party of four takes one look around and pivots back out.
Then, "Davis! Over here!" an unwelcome voice hooks my notice to a booth along the back wall.
"Wonderful," I echo as Derek stands and waves both hands high above his head.
"We have room," he calls, his volume excessive even over the busy chatter. "Come join us."
Brianna looks across at me. "Not ideal."
"We'll go elsewhere," I offer.
She knows something of my history with Derek, and I know he gets under her skin. However, the problem is that we're both also bleakly aware of our limited options beyond this place. Neither the pub over the road nor the greasy spoon a few doors down holds much appeal.
Flagrantly incorrigible, more than a few heads are snapped Derek's way when he shouts out again. "We're almost done. When the last of our little party arrives, we're off, and this cushy booth here is all yours."
I recognise his cousin as she reaches across the table to deliver a sharp slap to his arm, her fair cheeks pinking. And— huh, okay. Darting a glance over the room at the attention drawn, the equally flushed face beside her is familiar to me, too.
When Lyndsay sends us a warm smile and tugs Mikey in closer to her, freeing space, Brianna makes the call. She brushes past me, swerving around tables to slide into the booth beside them.
Derek remains standing until I join the group a hesitant moment after her, and his hand slams my shoulder. While Brianna exchanges strained pleasantries with the couple he's seemingly third-wheeling, he gestures for me to shuffle along the other side ahead of him. "You know I don't like feeling trapped, Bastian."
He laughs at my scowl, but still, I do his bidding. My energy to argue with him has long since burned out. "No date for you tonight then?" I ask, moving right up against the wall.
"Meeting the guys over the road for band practice in a bit. Something of a private backroom gig if you and your lovely lady fancy it?" Flashing Brianna his most beguiling grin, he drops down on the seat across from her.
No one is entirely immune to him. She only just pulls herself short of smiling back. "We already have plans, thanks."
"Shame."
"Sure is," she deadpans, and he snorts.
Mikey takes his phone from his pocket, checks the screen, frowns, and slips it away again while Lyndsay busies herself with tidying the mess of empty plates and glasses on the table, piling them out of our way. Brianna picks up two menus and passes me one.
"So, anyway…" Derek angles himself around, bending his knee up onto the seat between us so that it's brushing my thigh. I resist giving him the satisfaction of pulling away. Not that he's left me space enough to do that in any case. "What's this I've heard on the grapevine about Tinwell?" He spares Lyndsay a glance at the interjection of her disgruntled groan. She shakes her head at him, slumping back and folding her arms, but he's not so readily put off. "And your evening of entertainment in his company?"
"What about it?" I reply.
"At the Lawton residence, no less."
I'm slammed by Brianna's piqued gaze, but it's not like there's a reason 'game night' should concern her. "It was pretty much exactly as awful an experience as this right here is."
Derek still refuses to take the hint. "Ash tells me he's now wheedled his way into that fancy college young master Lawton attends?"
"Yeah," I shrug. "So?"
"That bastard has more lives than a fucking cat!"
"Better he's Craig's problem than ours," Mikey pipes up uncharitably.
And I'm not the only one to glower at him for it.
"Craig's got problems enough already, Alston," Derek scolds. "And you, of all people, could stand to be a little more sympathetic to that."
"He has more reason than anyone to despise Tinwell," Lyndsay adds, her expression appalled.
"Who's Tinwell?" Brianna's frown remains firmly fixed on me. "What's this about?"
My mind flits from games night to the night Ashleigh delivered the news of Lyndsay's attempted assault, then to the beaten-down wreck I found in the woods that ill-fated morning, but I don't have an answer for her.
Because I also recall the blazing glares I've seen Mikey subjected to. And I'm already feeling lousy, cornered by my ex while on a date with my girlfriend. Worse is yet another discussion about Craig; this time, in the presence of the ex he's not over and the guy he blames for taking her from him.
Instead, I shove Derek's leg down off the seat. "I'm going to hunt down someone to take our order."
Mikey moves before I can, however, jolting to stand. His face breaks from chastised to cheery like a switch flicked, and Brianna is startled into scrambling out of the way as he launches himself from the booth.
"Excuse you!" She snaps after him.
"My bad." He doesn't turn back.
It becomes immediately apparent that the cause for his sudden upward swing is the fresh arrival of a lanky youth with windswept dark hair and a crooked smile. Vivid green eyes briefly catch on me, dazzled wide as Mikey jumps him. And then—
"Oi!" Derek calls out. "Tate needs to breathe, Loverboy."
—it becomes distinctly apparent that I've misjudged Craig yet again.