CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jamie – Twelve Years Ago
She has a boyfriend. A boyfriend.
I probably should’ve seen this coming considering I was the one who came to Skye last year with a girlfriend. But I made a point to be single coming into this summer, and I stupidly assumed she would be too.
I’m jealous… So jealous I’m likely turning green like the leprechauns that are a terrible mockery of my mother’s Irish heritage.
“What’s his name?” I ask Avi from where we’re once again propped on the inn’s roof.
She bites her lip and I hate the way it draws my attention to her mouth. A mouth I won’t be kissing this summer, even though I’ve had grand ideas of doing just that for weeks now… maybe months.
This is probably better though. We’re friends, always have been, always will be, and kissing all summer would only lead to heartache for one or both of us, so what would be the point?
Yeah, this is definitely better.
“Ian,” she finally answers, and her eyes flit across my face like a caress—like she’s trying to get a read on me.
“Huh. How long have you guys been going out?”
“Three months.” She shrugs like this information means nothing. But three months at sixteen… That’s not a small amount of time. It’s way longer than any of my past relationships, unless you count the one with Cat last summer… but seeing as we didn’t see each other for two-thirds of it, I don’t.
“Cool.” That’s it, Jamie? The best you can do? Cool? “How’d you meet?”
“He plays rugby. A mutual friend wanted to go to a match and we all went out for fish and chips after. I started going to all his matches and…” She tucks her chin and averts her gaze before clearing her throat and changing the subject.
“What about you? You’ve probably got a whole gaggle of girls trailing you. ”
She laughs, but it’s weak.
“Nah. I mean”—I swipe a hand through my hair and try to sound more confident than I feel—“yeah, there’s girls, but no girlfriend. Not right now at least.”
“Oh,” she says, and is that disappointment I hear? That I’m single and she isn’t? “What about Rory? You always talk about her when you email.”
“Gross.” I scoff and then backpedal because that came out harsher than I intended. “I just mean that I think of her like a sister. I can’t imagine dating her, that would just be weird. No, we’re just friends.”
I never even considered keeping the stories about what Rory and I get up to out of my emails. It’s the stories with the other girls I never shared. There’s never been anything between me and Rory.
“We’re just friends.” Avi’s gaze holds mine when she says it, like she’s challenging me. Because she’s right, we are just friends, but Avi has never felt like a sister. Never.
“Yeah… but it’s not the same.”
She tilts her head. “How so?”
“It just isn’t. We’ve… kissed.” The words are out before I can think better of bringing it up and I instantly regret it.
Her cheeks turn that perfect shade of pink I love and her eyes bounce away, unable to hold mine any longer with the remembrance of our kiss sitting between us.
I scratch my jaw and move us back into safer territory.
“So, other than the boyfriend… Isaac? How is school?”
“Ian…” she says, exasperated, and rolls her eyes. Those brown eyes that I think of more often than I should.
“Yeah, right.” I don’t care what his name is. That probably makes me an ass, but it’s true.
“School’s good. Not much to tell you beyond what I mentioned in our emails.”
Our emails were pretty few and far between, both of us busy with our own lives on different continents, so when we would catch up, it was a lot about school, our friends, and any adventures we’d had… which are never as good as the ones we have together.
“What about the restaurant? Still working with your mum on weekends?”
She brightens at this, her smile growing wide on her face. She doesn’t have on all the makeup she was wearing last summer, like maybe she finally realized she doesn’t need it… Not here with me, anyway.
“Yeah, when I can. I’ve started researching culinary programs for when I finish school. The one that Mum did in Paris will likely be accepting applicants, but I don’t know if I want to leave Scotland.”
“I get that,” I say, and then hesitate before continuing. “And if you’d asked me two years ago if I thought I’d leave Scotland for uni, I would’ve said no. But now—”
“What?” Her eyes bore into mine.
“Now, after having left the bubble of Skye—having seen more of the world, seen other things—I don’t know. I love Scotland, but there’s so much more out there.”
“You don’t think you’ll come back?” she asks, her face falling.
I reach out and brush her knuckles with my fingers before I pull back, remembering I can’t just touch her because I want to.
She’s not mine to touch.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just glad I’ve had the chance to see what else there is. It’s opened my eyes to other opportunities.” I shrug again, and this time she reaches for my hand. I don’t stop her when she laces her fingers through mine.
“I guess venturing out isn’t so bad. I just think Scotland will always be home for me.” She’s zoned in on our hands. “It can be for you too.”
“I know,” I say, dipping my face to her level so our gazes lock. We stay like that, and it’s a staring contest I don’t want to lose. I could get lost in those eyes.
She breaks first, looking away across the garden. “So, what’re you going to study at uni then, wherever you go?”
The change of subject breaks the tension I’d sensed growing between us. “Creative writing, maybe journalism too. Give myself options. But I know I want to write in some capacity.”
“Like books?” she asks, her lips parting and then closing again before tilting up in a wide smile. “I can see it now, Jameson Liam Murray, award-winning novelist. What do you want to write about?”
“Adventure mostly.”
“Like with the adventures of Jamie and Avi?” she asks, nudging my shoulder with hers.
“Not exactly… Though I might’ve added a few entries to that one for this summer.” I take a breath, searching for the right words. “More like epic adventure. Maybe something like The Hobbit or Treasure Island. I don’t know. That’s probably stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s your dream, and I love it!” Her excitement is infectious, building me up and giving me even more confidence in this idea that’s been bouncing around in my head lately. “I can’t wait to hold your books in my hands. I just know you’ll be an amazing success.”
My cheeks heat and I know I’ve gone beet red. Shifting my gaze away, I realize we’re still holding hands. I give hers a squeeze and she returns it, and I feel it through my entire body.
“Thanks. For believing in me. I’ve never told anyone that’s what I want to do.” I could give Avi all my secrets.
“Well, I feel honored, and just know I’ll always be your very biggest fan.”
I want to kiss her so badly. I want to crush my lips to hers.
I want to feel her warmth against me. I want to feel that approval for my dream soak through from her body into mine and never let it go.
But I can’t, so I just tighten my grip on her hand and hold her gaze, memorizing the way the sunlight dances in the specks of gold in them.