Chapter Eight #2
‘How are you doing, love?’ Claire ran a hand over my ponytail, and it made me ache for my mum. I felt like a shaken-up bottle of pop, just ready to explode, and I knew Mum would know what to say. ‘You look a bit… strained?’
Shit! I needed to sell this better.
‘Are you joking? I’m great.’ I plastered on a grin. ‘The hike was amazing today – the view was gorgeous. And I’ve got my tent all set up.’ I gestured around the campfire. ‘Plus, I’m spending time with my friends. What could be better?’
My voice was high-pitched and Claire looked at me with a concerned expression. Great! Academy-Award winner I was not.
Claire lowered her voice. ‘Maybe it’s that your ex, no, I know he’s not your ex. He’s your ex-whatever. And maybe it would be better if he wasn’t sitting opposite, shooting you those puppy-dog eyes.’
I whispered, shooting a glance to Ren, who was thankfully in conversation with Clara. ‘We’re – it’s not like that. We weren’t together. Just friends who—’
‘Who fell into bed?’
My eyes snapped to Claire. I hadn’t really told her the full story, as I had to Gen and Amy. A bit of me wanted to hold back the full truth from her, because I didn’t want her to be disappointed in me. But she proved I shouldn’t have worried with the next sentence.
‘Oh, love. Don’t look so panicked. We’ve all been there. God, the list of men I wish I hadn’t gone to bed with, well.’ Claire pouted. ‘When I think about it, the list isn’t that long. I should have more regrets really.’
I chuckled. ‘There are apps for that, Claire.’
‘Oh,’ Claire waved a hand. ‘I’m not interested in the apps. And I don’t think he is, by the way.’ She nodded at Ren. ‘He’s always got an eye on you…’
I followed Claire’s eyeline, and found Ren glancing over at the same time, a tentative smile on his face. I glanced away quickly, then my face burned.
‘Really, Claire, it’s not like that.’ I scratched my arm. ‘We talked, cleared the air. We can just keep out of each other’s way.’
She hummed, then a slow grin took over her face.
‘What are you thinking?’ My eyes narrowed. ‘You look like you just had a very evil idea.’
‘I was just thinking that as long as he is here – he ought to earn his keep, don’t you think?’
‘Earn his keep? What, like put him to work?’ I laughed, disbelieving. ‘Like a butler?’
Claire’s eyes glinted in the firelight. ‘Exactly like a butler. How better to show he’s earning back your trust?’
Wow! Never underestimate the creativity of a woman scorned. Claire’s cheating ex-husband had a lot to answer for.
I laughed, shaking my head. ‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ Claire shrugged. ‘He’s invited himself on this trip. The least he could do is make himself useful. I saw him help with your tent. And he looks like he’d do anything just to get you to look at him.’ Claire bopped my nose. ‘There is power in that, you know.’
The idea of having power over Ren made me feel a little lightheaded.
I’d always felt like the one on the back foot – he had always been the cooler one, the one with more social currency.
I’d been the peppy, overexcited best friend who usually made a fool of herself at some point during the party.
But Ren had said he would do anything – anything to make it up to me.
Maybe if I pushed him far enough, he would realise it was doomed.
We were doomed. And he’d leave me alone.
‘Ren,’ I barked across the fire pit. Ren’s head shot up. The ladies looked between us curiously.
‘Lydia,’ he said, a little amused.
I almost lost my nerve, tempted to make something up, but I was keen to swipe the smug look off his face.
‘Mandy said you brought a cocktail shaker,’ I said, tilting my head. ‘But I don’t see a drink in my hand.’
A ripple of laughter passed through the camp, low and knowing.
Bold. Maybe too bold. God, did that sound bitchy?
Ren’s face flickered and he didn’t look offended. Quite the opposite, actually. His eyes were a little glazed, as he took me in.
‘What can I get you?’ he asked, his voice gentler than I expected. ‘Name it – I’ll make it.’
An hour and a half later, we were four cocktails deep, all giggling, Joni Mitchell drifting from Amy’s phone as the fire crackled between us.
‘Another cocktail, ladies?’ Ren asked with a grin, leaning across the flames to top up Gen and Claire’s glasses from the metal cocktail shaker he’d packed, along with a million tiny bottles of spirits, like some kind of wilderness bartender.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, feigning innocence as I leaned forward, a mischievous glint in my eye. ‘Could I have a margarita this time?’
Ren’s eyes twinkled. ‘Of course. At your service, madam.’
He worked the cocktail shaker and, with the spirits thrumming through my veins, I couldn’t help but track Ren’s arms, and the way they flexed.
He looked handsome with the firelight flickering off his face, at ease, even as we ordered him about.
He came around the fire to stand behind me, leaning over, his arms brushing my shoulder as he went to pour the drink.
‘Oh, Ren.’
He paused, eyebrow raised, looking down at me expectantly. ‘Yes, Lydia?’
I bared my teeth in a smile. ‘We need more firewood.’
Ren’s answering slow grin made me wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew. He leaned down, to top up my drink.
‘Careful, Sunshine,’ he murmured under his breath. ‘You keep barking orders like that and I might start enjoying it.’
My breath caught and I held his gaze and took a sip of the drink, the tequila coming through strong, giving me that boost of confidence I needed around this version of Ren. Then his hand wrapped around mine and he lifted the glass to his lips.
‘Just a taste test,’ he said, sipping from the exact spot I had. ‘Want to make sure it’s up to scratch for my most… demanding customer.’
The flush bloomed across my cheeks before I could stop it. I blamed the booze. And the fire. And the bloody audacity of that smile.
He handed the drink back, his fingers lingering just a moment too long – as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. Then he turned to fetch the firewood, leaving me flustered and wondering who won that round.
I suspected it wasn’t me.
By the time we hit drink four, Gen was on her feet, clinging to Amy, who was already struggling to keep Claire upright.
‘Come on,’ Gen said, the most sober of the three. ‘Let’s get to bed.’
‘Night, ladies,’ Ren said, his voice laced with amusement. ‘I hope I passed the test.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Amy hiccuped. ‘I think so.’
‘With flying pigs,’ Claire added, her eyes pointing in different directions.
‘Flying colours,’ Gen corrected. ‘I think you’ve proven yourself. For now.’ Gen pointed her fingers at her eyes, then flipped them around to Ren. ‘But we’re watching you, remember.’
‘Yeah.’ Amy hiccuped again, then pouted. ‘I got a forty-five and a shovel. I doubt anyone would miss you.’
I stifled a giggle. Amy was steaming drunk but still managed to quote Clueless.
She was an encyclopedia for any form of entertainment with a whiff of a romantic subplot.
The girls dissolved into laughter, then wandered off to bed in a chorus of yawns and whispered good nights, leaving Ren and me alone in front of the dying fire.
‘Thank you. For tonight.’
‘You’re thanking me?’ My brow furrowed. He’d just been at our beck and call for hours. Gen almost got him to give us foot rubs, but I drew the line there.
‘I know it was meant to be some sort of public humiliation, but you let me earn my keep. I already felt bad enough being the only bloke on this trip—’
Our eyes met. The fire crackled between us.
‘And it was nice,’ he smiled, that irritatingly tentative, soft smile. ‘Seeing you have fun. Letting yourself go. I like being your victim, Sunshine. You can use me however you want to.’
Use me.
My face couldn’t help but flush. Ren didn’t look away and neither did I and I realised how close we were sitting.
Not touching, but I could feel the heat radiate from his thighs to mine.
His eyes flickered around my face, then lingered a beat too long on my lips.
It was just a second but long enough for me to clock it.
Long enough for it to feel like a caress.
Then a log cracked loudly. I jumped, and stood. Ren did the same, still looking at me with that searching expression.
I cleared my throat, laughing lightly. ‘Right. I better sleep off these cocktails.’ Hoping I came across unflustered. Unbothered.
I brushed off my leggings, heading for my tent.
‘Night, Lydia.’