Chapter 12
‘I’ll be here,’ Jacob called back, eyes closed as he waved one hand lazily in the air.
The late spring sun beat down on the cracked tarmac of the community centre car park, giving off a faint smell of hot tar.
I saw Ivan sat on the stone steps out front, a strawberry-scented cloud of smoke surrounding him as he puffed on a vape, the sides of his cable knit cardigan cocooned tightly around his body despite the warm, early May sunshine.
‘All right, Jenny?’ He nodded. ‘We’ve not seen you in a while.’
Something heavy and uncomfortable pressed deep in the pit of my stomach.
I hadn’t been to the community centre all week.
I’d wanted to. I’d even sat in this very car park for over an hour on Monday evening, the backs of my trousers sticking to the car seat as it grew increasingly dim outside, my fingers gripping the door handle.
But something stopped me from exiting the car.
The very same something that had me replying to Luca’s texts in a strangely formal way ever since the whole ‘waking up in his bed’ fiasco.
Last night when I’d texted him to say I’d swing by today to grab the photos, I’d actually signed off with kind regards.
Kind fucking regards! Every time I thought about him, that same scene played out lazily in my head – the intensity of Luca’s gaze as he stared at me from beneath lashes still glistening with shower droplets, the flimsy-looking knot in his towel that looked as though any second it would just—
‘Oh, you know, work, schmerk.’ I shrugged noncommittally, the back of my neck suddenly very warm.
Ivan exhaled a sickly-sweet plume of white smoke, but the way he bobbed his head, like one of those dog figurines that sat in people’s cars, told me he suspected another reason.
‘Well, I’d better—’ I gestured wordlessly to the door, doing some sort of weird double-pistol gesture I’d never done before in my life, and Ivan shuffled to the side, laughter rumbling at the back of his throat as he let me pass.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine to the dim light of the hall, as I squinted about the room in search of a box or envelope somewhere with JENNY written across it in giant, no-need-to-actually-talk-to-Luca letters.
No such luck. I sighed, my gaze landing on Luca as if pulled towards him by an invisible string.
Taut with tension, ready to snap at any moment.
He was at the far end of the hall, a jumble of mismatched chairs surrounding him from which ten pairs of feet swung several inches above the ground.
They were trading a beat back and forth, Luca tapping a simple rhythm out on the drum wedged between his knees, and each child then taking it in turns to pass around a small hand drum and repeat it back to him.
He was wearing a plain white t-shirt with an unbuttoned plaid shirt over the top, the sleeves of which were rolled up to reveal the perfect amount of forearm.
How was it that he could wear a flannel shirt and look like .
.?. well, that – but if I did, I looked like I’d misplaced my axe?
My cheeks flushed at the sudden, vivid memory of Luca in the kitchen last week, one arm flexed against the doorway as droplets of shower water ran slowly down his bare—
OK, they are just arms, Jenny. Cool it. Honestly, one glimpse of a half-naked, wet male and my uterus was ready to disregard hundreds of years of progress when it came to gender stereotypes and single-handedly volunteer to continue the human race.
I mean, if someone had to do it .?.?. No, pull it together, woman.
Luca looked up, his dark eyes catching mine and for one panicked second, I thought he might have heard my thoughts.
He muttered something to Ivan who’d just returned from outside, passing him the drum before strolling over to where I was lingering awkwardly in the doorway, like an uninvited guest in someone’s house.
An unwelcome heaviness pressed against the sides of my stomach as I watched him approach, every muscle in my body tensing in anticipation.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
I watched Luca’s lips part and then close again, his brow furrowing as though he was suddenly unsure of what to say, his normal sarcastic aside never coming.
‘I’m here for the photos?’ I prompted, filling the silence.
‘Yes, right. Photos.’ Luca spun on his heel, striding through the dust motes dancing in the sunlight. ‘I thought you’d said Monday.’
‘Right, yeah, sorry about that. Work’s been crazy,’ I said as I followed him to the piano.
‘Weird, I thought I saw your car driving away as I was leaving.’
I made some sort of noncommittal noise at the back of my throat, a cross between a snort and a questioning huh , but otherwise didn’t trust myself to say anything more.
‘I’m sorry about the whole Jasmine thing last week,’ Luca said suddenly, his hand running roughly through his curls, giving the ends a sharp tug. ‘She can be a bit much sometimes. Well, all the time, actually.’
‘So, it’s hereditary then?’ A smile hooked at the corner of his lips, his eyes glistening as we resumed the game of chess we’d been playing since the first day we met.
‘Here we are, one shoebox of memories as promised.’ Luca handed me a battered old box, the cardboard so worn that the logo on the side was now nothing but a faded black smudge.
Our fingers brushed, the pad of his thumb skimming across the inside of my wrist where my pulse was thrumming.
He cleared his throat, taking a step back.
‘I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet, but my Dadaji seemed to think there might be something of interest in there for your article. Something that might help.’
‘No, this is great,’ I said, riffling through the various photographs and newspaper clippings to distract myself from the weight of Luca’s gaze. ‘How’s the fundraising going?’
Luca didn’t say anything, but the way his jaw locked in a hard, tense line told me exactly how it was going. Or not going. There’d been a flurry of donations after the first article ran, but since then it had died down and it was clear they were still a long way off their target.
‘You still have a few weeks left until the concert,’ I said encouragingly, hugging the box tightly to my chest. Luca nodded but his eyes were fixed on the back of the room, a faraway look on his face as though he were picturing an alternate reality.
One where the hall was no longer filled with music and laughter, where the front doors were padlocked shut, papered over with posters of club nights and circus shows.
‘I just can’t bring myself to imagine a time when this place is no longer here.
What sort of world do we live in if that’s allowed to happen?
It’s a lifeline for so many, a safe haven where anyone can come and feel like they belong, no matter how lost they might be.
’ Luca’s voice trailed off, eyes blinking fast and furious like a lightning storm flashing across his face.
He shook his head, his fingernail ticking over the edge of the piano. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Understand what?’
‘What it’s like to lose something you think you’ll have forever.’
I forced myself to blink. To breathe. He doesn’t know , I reminded myself. But it felt like he’d taken an ice-cream scoop to my chest, a giant, melting chasm where my heart used to be.
‘Well, we’d better make damn sure that doesn’t happen, then.
’ I forced a smile, swallowing the razor-sharp lump in my throat, but still my voice had to scrape by to get out.
I turned my attention to the photographs in my hands, not trusting that the tears wouldn’t come if I stared for one second longer into Luca’s hooded eyes.
‘Wait, is that you?!’
I squinted at a sepia photograph of a middle-aged man sat cross-legged on a patch of lawn, the image drained of almost every drop of colour in the decades that had passed since it had been taken.
An impressive-looking beard covered most of the man’s face and neck, and yet his beaming smile was still the first thing I noticed.
The second was the toddler running around in the background.
He was holding a tambourine triumphantly in the air, a familiar cheeky grin on his face as if he’d just done something he shouldn’t have. He was also butt naked.
‘Give me that.’ Luca lunged towards me with a horrified look on his face, but I was ready for him, darting to the side and holding the photograph up for closer inspection.
‘Why am I not surprised that you were an exhibitionist even back then?’ I teased, skipping around the opposite side of the piano as Luca made another failed attempt to claim the photograph for himself.
‘I knew I should have checked the contents before giving it to you. That is not going in the paper.’ Luca’s eyes narrowed wolfishly as he slowly circled the piano.
My heart raced as the two of us continued this slow, agonising dance, him going right, me going left, until I found myself on the side closest to the door.
He held my gaze, unblinking as he followed my eyes to the double doors, a challenging cock of his eyebrow that said I dare you .
I faked right and then made a run for it, but didn’t get far before Luca’s arm hooked itself around my waist, hoisting me off the ground as easily as a leaf on the breeze.
He pulled me tightly against him, one of my legs between both of his, all my softest parts against all his hardest. His hand skimmed the underside of my shirt as he grabbed me, his touch rippling like fire across the bare skin of my stomach.
I gasped, every single muscle seeming to melt at the sudden contact.
‘Aha!’ Luca shouted, snatching the photograph from my fingers and holding it aloft triumphantly.
‘Are you two fighting?’