9. Zach
ZACH
We spend the rest of the day on the beach.
I still can’t believe we’re on a private beach belonging to a film star.
After breakfast has settled, we take our sandals off and splash in the sea, race each other along the beach until we’re exhausted, then we flop onto the picnic blanket in the shade, dozing to the sound of the waves.
We eat the remaining pastries for lunch and spend the afternoon lazing around and talking about something and nothing.
It’s low-pressure and fun. I find myself relaxing more and more.
Not fully. Never fully. But more than I’ve been able to since she broke into my apartment.
Around mid-afternoon, we head back to the car, and Nate drives me back to Halo House. He stops the car in front of the house.
“I had a great day, thanks,” I say.
“You’re welcome. My client won’t be home for a month, so if you fancy another beach day before then, let me know.”
I smile, heat warming my cheeks for some reason. “I might just do that.”
The front door opens, and Puck runs out and sits on the porch steps. They’re clutching their teddy, messing up and then smoothing its fur. They give Nate and me a little wave.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” I ask Nate.
“If you want to.”
“Don’t you have work and stuff?”
“I’m the boss and have people to do most of the day-to-day stuff for me. Yes, I like to keep my fingers on the pulse, but I can take a few days off.”
“It’s already been a few days.”
“Then I’ll take a few more. You need me more.”
I nip my bottom lip between my teeth and look away as my cheeks become radioactive. “Thank you.”
“I think your friend’s waiting for you.”
I nod. “Thanks again for today.”
I have an urge to kiss him. To say thank you, obviously. I don’t. That’s probably not a line I should cross, especially without having any idea if he’d want me to cross it. Why am I even thinking about it? My head’s messed up, and Nate’s just trying to help.
I get out of the car and head toward Puck, who stands and waves for Nate to stay.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Puck nods exuberantly. “Everyone else is out or busy. You should invite your Daddy to stay. We can cook for him.” They smile brightly.
“Nate’s not…”
Puck swings their body from side to side, giving me a knowing stare.
“I’ll ask.” I return to the car.
Nate puts his window down so we can talk.
“Do you want to stay for dinner? It would be the three of us.” I motion to Puck.
“I’d like that. Who’s cooking?”
“Me and Puck, apparently.”
“I could help?”
I shake my head. “We’ll do it. You’ve spent all day spoiling me. Let me do something in return.”
Nate smiles. “All right.”
The three of us go inside, Nate peeling off to go and sit in the conservatory while Puck and I head to the kitchen. We check what’s in the fridge and cupboards.
“Stuffed peppers?” I suggest.
Puck looks panicked.
“I’ll teach you how to make them. They’re not hard,” I add. “You said you wanted to know how to cook more than one meal.”
They beam. “Okay.” They set their teddy bear down on one corner of the counter, positioned to watch over us and wash their hands, while I pull everything we’ll need out.
I start by putting some rice on to cook.
“We need to hollow out the peppers.” I show them how with the first one, and then we do one each. “Puck… Have you ever been blindfolded?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
They hum. “Not always.”
I watch them carefully, but they seem as carefree as ever. I swear, Puck is a pint-sized ray of sunshine.
“The trick is to make sure you trust the person who’s blindfolding you,” they say, as they scoop the guts of a large yellow bell pepper onto a plate. “If you don’t, it’s not fun at all. Do you want Nate to blindfold you?”
“I think I might.”
“You trust him, don’t you?”
I nod.
They grin. “Then I think you’ll like it.”
We set the hollowed-out peppers aside.
“Can you dice an onion?” I ask.
Puck nods, so I set them that task while I mince a couple of cloves of garlic.
“What’s it like?” I ask.
“Being blindfolded?”
“Yes.”
“Relaxing. When I can’t see, it helps everything else drift away. Hmm… I’m not doing a very good job, sorry.” They’ve chopped the onion pretty coarsely and non-uniformly.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” I heat some oil in a frying pan and then scrape the onions into it. “They need stirring for about five minutes, until they go soft.” I hand Puck a wooden spoon.
“Sorry if I hijacked your evening with Nate.”
“You didn’t. He was going to go home.”
“Oh, so now you get to spend more time with him. I promise I’ll make myself scarce as soon as we’ve eaten.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
Puck beams. “But I will.”
I add the garlic and some beef mince to the frying pan. “Stir it until the mince has browned, and then we’ll drain off the excess fat.”
Puck frowns. “Mince?”
“Uh, the ground beef. Is that right? We call it mince in the UK.”
“Why?”
“Honestly? I have no clue. Why do you call it ground beef?”
They laugh. “Because that’s how it’s made.”
I leave Puck stirring the mince while I drain the rice. I leave it in the strainer to fluff up while we carefully get rid of the excess fat from the frying pan.
“Now we stir in the rice, and some chopped tomatoes, and some herbs.”
Puck giggles.
“What?”
“You say things so differently. Tomatoes. Herbs. Was it hard learning an American accent?”
I stare at them.
“For the movie you were in. What was it called again? Confessions of a something…?”
“Teenage Jock.”
They snap their fingers. “That’s it.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Uh-huh.”
So they did know who I was when I met them.
“Was it? Hard?”
“Yes. I had to work with a vocal coach.” I grab some paprika, oregano, salt, and pepper, and add a small amount of each to the mixture in the pan.
“How do you know how much to add?”
“It’s not an exact science. You add a bit and then taste it.” I grab a small spoon from the drawer and scoop some of the mixture onto it, blowing over it until it’s safe to eat. I hold it out for Puck to try.
They widen their eyes but accept the small bite of food. “Mm, good!”
I put the jars of herbs away. “We let it simmer for a few minutes and then stuff the peppers with the mixture and bake them. Which reminds me…” I turn the oven on to heat up.
“How did you get so good at cooking?”
“I had to learn when I went to drama school at eighteen. I couldn’t afford to live on ready meals and takeaway. I found recipes I liked the look of online and just followed the instructions. If I liked something, I wrote down the recipe. Eventually, I could cook a dozen or so meals well.”
“A dozen?”
“I can cook a few more than that now.”
They flutter their lashes, as though shocked. “Mom didn’t cook much. She worked two jobs, so she didn’t have much time.”
“What about your dad?”
They stiffen. “He didn’t cook. Or clean. He said that was a woman’s job. He—” Puck presses their lips into a forced smile. “Never mind. It’s in the past.”
“Puck…”
“I’m good. Everything’s good. It’s all good. Has it simmered long enough?”
“Yes.”
“Then teach me how to stuff peppers.” They smile so brightly, their eyes turn into half-moons, like a real-life anime character.
We work together to stuff the peppers as full as possible, then carefully transfer them to the oven on a baking tray. With no food left to prep, I wash up, and Puck dries and puts things away. When we’re done, they wash their hands, then retrieve their teddy bear and hug it tightly.
“I should give you Ted back,” I say.
“You don’t need to, if you still need him.”
“I think I’m good. Thanks.”
Puck lifts the teddy bear, tucking its head under their chin.
“Puck—”
They widen their eyes and shake their head. “Please don’t,” they whisper.
“Don’t… What?”
“Make things serious.”
“What makes you think I was going to?”
“The look on your face.”
I school my expression, even though it’s too late to do so. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m good. A-okay.”
“Really?”
They smile, nod, and then inhale deeply. “And dinner smells so good! Would you write the recipe down for me?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks!”
“How old are you?”
They tilt their head, brow furrowing. “Twenty-one. Why?”
“Just curious. I find it hard to tell sometimes.”
“Oh! Me too. Some people have real baby faces, and others look like they’re ready to retire when they’re in their thirties!”
I make myself chuckle. “Yeah, I find it easier just to ask people. Saves any confusion down the line.” The oven timer goes off, providing a much-needed change of subject. “Dinner’s ready. Can you grab some plates?”
“Will do.”
We transfer the stuffed peppers to the plates, fill some glasses with water, and put everything on a large tray, which I carry through to the dining room, while Puck runs to fetch Nate.
We chat while we eat, the conversation never straying from light, inconsequential things. As soon as we’ve finished, Puck clears the plates, leaving Nate and me alone.
Nate regards me, his lips pursed. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I sigh and shake my head. “I realized I’m not the only one keeping secrets.” I glance at the doorway. “It must have been so frustrating for you when I refused to talk about what happened.”
“A bit,” Nate admits. “But there was no sense in pushing you. Puck has someone to talk to. I suspect they need something different from you.”
“What?”
“Light-hearted friendship. Someone they can just be themselves with.”
“They’re only twenty-one.”
“I know.”
“And they’re a—”
Nate smiles sadly. “I know.”
“I can’t even—” I shake my head. “It puts my problems in perspective.”
Nate threads his fingers together and rests his chin on them. “Don’t belittle your own experiences, Zach. What you’re dealing with isn’t lessened just because someone else is going through something different.”
“Worse…”
“Different,” he says insistently. “What do you need from me, right now?”
“A hug,” I whisper. “Please.”
He stands, walks around the table, and hugs me, holding my head and shoulders gently against his torso as he strokes my back. I wrap my arms around him and hold on tightly.
After a while, I look up and make eye contact with him. “Can you stay tonight?”