Time after time, p.3
Time After Time, page 3
I envied her.
At 20, my interests were all over the place and unclear. Turning 20 just before summer only made things worse, as my dad felt I’d been out of high school too long and couldn’t spend the rest of my days teaching online French and English or helping him with our family’s fruit business. So he made it his mission to offer advice and suggest different paths, but nothing ever caught my attention, not in a way that made the blood in my veins burn, that feeling that I had to do it, like I couldn’t live without it.
“What’s that on your shoulder?”
Remembering that my mum had told me to take off whatever I had stuck there, I moved my hand over a few spots until my fingers brushed against something hard. Once I grabbed it, I glanced at it and sighed. “A pamphlet for the University of Barcelona.”
Sylvie hissed, tilting her head to the side. “Uh oh, here it comes. The time when he starts leaving pamphlets everywhere like they just appeared there by magic.” When I didn’t respond or even look her way, she continued. “The architecture program?”
I nodded, frustrated. Before my eyes could focus on the words, I scrunched the pamphlet between my hands and let it drop to my feet, knowing that as soon as we reached our destination, I’d toss it into the nearest trash can.
“Hey.” Sylvie’s voice cut through my swirling thoughts, and I felt the light pressure of her elbow nudging me. “Are you worried?” Her voice was soft, but her eyes were sharp, searching my face for any hint of what was bothering me.
I didn’t respond, my hands tightening around the armrest as my mind raced. With a groan, I tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. My jaw clenched, teeth grinding, and I exhaled sharply through my nose.
Sylvie had an uncanny way of reading people, like she could sense the tiniest shifts in my expression. Her gaze seemed to pierce through the walls I’d built, as if my every emotion was laid bare. She watched me for a moment, her brow furrowing before her lips parted. “Everything will be fine,” she said, her voice firm. The corners of her eyes crinkled with sincerity. “You’ll find something.”
“Let’s listen to some music,” I suggested, my voice lighter now, an almost chuckle slipping out as I reached for the radio. As the first notes filled the air, a bit of the tension in my chest loosened. The thoughts that had been swirling in my mind tried to creep back, but the beat pulled me in. Without thinking, I started singing along, and soon our voices rose over the song.
I glanced over at Sylvie, who was expertly handling the wheel. Sunlight spilt through the window, catching the strands of her hair as they fluttered in the breeze. Her profile, bathed in light and shadow, seemed to shift with the movement of the car. For a moment, I forgot to breathe, mesmerised by the way the light played on her face, making her look even more beautiful than I remembered.
The eerie feeling from my dream still hung around, as if I hadn’t seen her in ages.
Everything clicked into place in that instant.
All I wanted was for this summer to last forever.
Chapter 3
Geneviève
Beads of sweat trickled from my hairline down the nape of my neck, forming an unbearable cascade under the relentless sun. My straw hat and long-sleeved shirt clung to my clammy skin, offering little relief as I worked. My sister and I had just got back from the stores, picking up a few things Dad had texted us to grab. We were running a bit later than usual, but it was still the perfect time to harvest the apricots just as Dad had reminded me to do in his text.
Exhaling deeply, I stretched my right arm to its limits, even tiptoeing on the metal staircase for a few extra inches. My gloved fingers closed around the last ripe apricot. My dad had taught me long ago that its colour and soft, velvety skin were the best signs of ripeness. So, with a careful twist and a gentle pull, the apricot slipped free from the branch and into my hand, perfectly whole, without a single bruise or mark.
Sliding off my gloves, I wiped the sweat from my brow, only to feel even grosser as it smeared onto the back of my hand. Then a sudden sound made me pause. Turning toward the shade, I spotted Mr. Whiskers sprawled out lazily, his tail flicking as he gnawed on chicory flowers. His soft purring stood in sharp contrast to the scattered mess of shredded petals around him.
“Behave!” I called, pointing a finger at him. “Remember the stomachache you had last time!”
He met my warning with a glint of defiance, his eyes fixed on the chicory flowers. I wagged a finger at him, the gesture sharp and intentional.
“No cuddles from me tonight if your tummy acts up!”
My threat didn’t faze him. With a sigh, I made my way down the metal stairs, each step echoing with a rhythmic clink.
The basket rested snugly against my waist as I held the gloves in one hand and gripped the metal railing with the other. The scorching sun heated the railing so much that it burned my palm, making me yelp in surprise. Sweat dripped down my face, and all I could think about was a cold shower.
Gosh, I couldn’t wait for it.
When I finally stepped under the cool water, my body felt weightless, the heat and sweat from the day, along with the remnants of my nightmare, melting away. The tension in my shoulders eased, and they dropped naturally, no longer hunched or held tight. For the first time in a while, they settled comfortably.
Once I was dry, I reached for one of my favourite bikinis—a navy blue set decorated with delicate white flowers that seemed to flutter across the fabric. The deep blue complemented my sun-kissed skin perfectly. To finish the look, I added a sleeveless white tank top and a flowing azure skirt that cascaded like a waterfall.
My damp hair refused to cooperate, staying stubbornly tousled despite my efforts with a wide-tooth comb. The moisture would inevitably seep into the back of my top and part of my skirt, leaving small, clingy patches. But I didn’t care. Using a hairdryer seemed downright laughable in this intense heat.
In the rush of showering, dressing, and hastily applying sun cream and concealer, I hadn’t noticed Mr. Whiskers was missing from my room. Usually, he’d stroll in without a care, claiming his space with ease. But then I heard my mum’s unmistakable laughter drift up from downstairs, making me freeze mid-motion. I strained to catch any other voices that might explain her amusement, but there was nothing else. With Dad gone until lunchtime and my sister having dropped me off before going out with her friends, the source of Mum’s laughter could only be one person.
Suddenly, one name flashed into my mind.
The mere thought brought tears to my eyes, and my hands trembled. For a moment, I considered sitting down in my desk chair to compose myself as the tremors spread to my legs. But then, a rush of exhilaration surged through me, like the feeling you get after facing something you were terrified of, making me grin almost foolishly. Ignoring my unsteady legs, I pushed forward and glanced at the clock one last time—12:12—before hurrying down the stairs.
With each step, the sounds grew clearer, and any doubt about the identity of the voice melted away. There was only one person it could be.
Him.
Sebastian Ventura. The one person who had been my best friend for as long as I could remember.
My gaze swept over him, trying to take in every detail, but as usual, he spotted me before I had a chance to fully take him in.
Perched on a barstool, he shifted the moment he sensed my presence. His eyes lit up, and while my mum was speaking to him, not wanting to be disrespectful, he nodded along to what she was saying. But the right corner of his lip quivered upward, and his eyes kept darting to me every couple of seconds. When my mum finished, he pushed himself off the stool and stepped closer, his hands slipping into the pockets of his shorts.
“You took your time this morning, Wheels,” he said, his voice carrying its usual soothing tone.
Sebastian’s way of speaking was always calm and pleasant. In all the years we’d known each other, I couldn’t recall him ever raising his voice. Whenever he was frustrated or angry—which wasn’t often—he would close his eyes, take a deep breath, and continue speaking in a way that, whether you wanted it or not, would soothe you.
“Did you happen to forget I was coming back today?” His tone was teasing. His absence had only been a few days. A brief trip to visit his grandparents and pick up a certificate from a course he’d taken months ago, but those few days had felt like an eternity. I had missed him more than usual, especially after that unsettling dream. The Geneviève from that time had been feeling something I’d never experienced before. The ache in her chest had been so intense that I had to fight the urge to scratch it obsessively, as if trying to carve the pain out.
Needing to be close to him, I didn’t say a word. I leaped into his arms, and with a surprised huff, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me up and closer. The familiar strength of his hold eased something tight in my chest, and I let my arms fall around his shoulders, resting there as if they belonged.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, the tremor in my voice betraying the flood of emotions I barely held in check.
His response was immediate, lifting me off the ground and leaving me suspended in his hold, yet always secure. Despite being fairly tall at 5’7’’, Sebastian’s height far surpassed mine, allowing him to lift me effortlessly. He swayed us from side to side, the motion almost silent except for his soft humming, his chest vibrating against mine. The sound lulled me, and before I knew it, my eyes fluttered shut.
I caught the faint scent of sea salt and apricots, carried on skin warmed by the sun—sweet, salty, and unmistakably his.
A few minutes later, I found my footing again, and as he set me down, I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes locked onto mine, deep chocolate brown with flecks of gold swirling within them like molten amber.
Sebastian’s golden curls had grown longer at the back, the sun lightening the tips to a sandy blonde. His skin had taken on a rich tan, the kind you get from spending too much time in the sun. Despite my constant reminders to use sunscreen, he’d just laugh and talk about how much he liked the freckles that dotted his nose and shoulders, which always set me off into a rant about skin damage.
Meeting his gaze, I realised I might have been staring too long. “Everything okay?” he asked, his smile faltering for a second as he tilted his head, his eyes searching my face. His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, something he did often. I noticed the slight gap between his front teeth, something he was self-conscious about, but to me, it only made him more him.
I had been so focused on his return that I hadn’t noticed my mum had slipped away. Glancing to my right, I saw the spot where she had been was now empty. When I turned back to Sebastian, his eyes were already on me, focused and waiting. “Back to our summer routine?” he asked, tilting his head toward the kitchen aisle. Following his gaze, I spotted a basket beside a bag of apricots, most likely left by my mum for him to take home. He was obsessed with them.
Excitement bubbled up inside me, nearly bursting into a squeal. “What did you bake today?” I asked, biting my lower lip to stop myself from drooling at the thought of what might be inside that basket.
He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. When he saw my hand inching toward it, he gently patted it. Yet, I couldn’t help leaning closer, eager for a sneak peek. “Uh-uh,” he said, his voice teasing. “It’s a surprise. And there’s a new recipe this time.”
Impatience laced my words. “Seriously, why are we still waiting?” I spun around, excitement propelling me toward my room. Sebastian’s laughter followed me as I nearly tripped, rushing up the stairs two steps at a time. I grabbed my rucksack and stuffed it with anything I might need.
I wished I could say the journey was quiet, but instead, I spent the whole time trying (and failing) to get him to tell me what he’d baked. Even though we weren’t headed to our secret place today, we took the same familiar route.
Sebastian and I had a place we called our own, even if it wasn’t exactly a secret. It was tucked away, rarely visited by anyone else, making it feel like it belonged to us, or at least, that’s how I liked to think of it. The spot itself was breathtaking, but the journey through our town was just as special. Each season made the path feel a little different, but summer was when it truly came alive for me. The open, sun-drenched fields, free of trees, stretched out like something from a painting or a film.
Sometimes, I would catch Sebastian closing his eyes, letting the tranquillity wash over him.
When we arrived, I spread a picnic blanket on the sand, my movements hurried as Sebastian shook his head and laughed. He knew I was rushing because I couldn’t wait to see what he’d brought. But as always, we turned it into a competition—who could get their things down and get into the water first. I scrambled to get everything set, but soon enough, Sebastian had tossed his bag aside and flung his shirt, half of it landing on the sand. With a wild laugh, he dashed toward the water, diving in head first when it reached his knees. Amused, I called him a cheater and followed close behind.
We swam for about an hour, and I nearly drowned from laughter when Sebastian started pretending to be a mermaid, singing Under the Sea and accidentally swallowing water in the process. His exaggerated, undulating movements had me laughing so hard my limbs felt like jelly. By the time our fingers started to prune, we let the sun guide us back to the spot where we had left our belongings.
Once we sat down on the picnic blanket, I couldn’t wait for Sebastian to show me what he’d brought. I noticed how excited he looked, and I found my gaze drifting over him. His body had got stronger over time from lifting weights at home; he’d set up a makeshift gym in his living room because he hated going to the actual gym. He’d always had a problem with Law Davidson flirting with his mum, missing every hint that she wasn’t interested. Sebastian didn’t like the idea of being there and having to hold back from saying something to Law, especially if he made a comment he couldn’t ignore.
On top of that, he was up and running by 5:30 a.m. most mornings. His physique wasn’t overly bulky, but it was well-defined. His chest was solid, his abs more noticeable than ever, and even when he was still, his biceps stood out.
“You didn’t put on any sunblock?” I asked, noticing the pinkish hue on his shoulders. Ugh, he never learned. Sebastian reached into the pink basket he’d brought, picking out a handful of pastries while giving me a sheepish smile, clearly trying to distract me.
“Sebastian,” I whined, the frustration barely masked.
At the sound of his name, his eyes widened in mild surprise, like he hadn’t expected me to call him out. “It’s not from today,” he blurted, as if that would make everything better. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.
He met my gaze for a second, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. He shifted, uncomfortable. “Okay, maybe I forgot to use sunblock when I went to visit my grandmother.” He paused, studying my face for any sign of my reaction. I raised both brows now, sensing there was more he wasn’t telling me.
Sebastian shrugged, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced away. “I might’ve forgotten to put some on this morning when I went for a run,” he admitted, his eyes flicking back to me. The nervous edge in his smile gave him away. He knew exactly what was coming. He always ran shirtless, convinced that if the sun wasn’t burning down on him, sunscreen was optional.
I was about to launch into my usual lecture about sunscreen when Sebastian popped a bite of dessert into my mouth. The words vanished as the flavours exploded on my palate. Banana, something crispy, and a smooth, creamy taste that I guessed was whipped cream. “Holy shit, Seb,” I mumbled, my eyes closing as I let the taste caress the inside of my mouth. I sank back onto the blanket, a satisfied sigh escaping my lips, and cracked one eye open to peek at him.
From behind the basket, he pulled out a perfectly layered dessert glass. My eyes widened, and I propped myself up, unable to hide my excitement. I must’ve looked like a kid, my gaze following his every move as he handed me the glass with a soft laugh. “Golden Banana Crisp Parfaits.”
“I’d ask more questions, but I’m too busy enjoying this.” Grinning, I grabbed the spoon from his hand and took a bite, barely holding back a satisfied hum as the flavours hit me.
“It’s banana mousse with a crunch from the cereal toppings. A layer of each,” he explained, his eyes flicking between the dessert and me. He watched intently as I took another spoonful, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the basket.
“Is it good enough?” His voice carried a subtle tremor, which he tried to hide with a cough. Of course, I knew better. Sebastian always obsessed over the details, even if he acted confident. And right now, despite the casual look on his face, his eyes gave him away, waiting for my answer.
“It’s absolutely perfect,” I said, leaning in to make sure he knew I meant it. “The flavours... they just blend so well. I might not be an expert, but this—” I held up the empty dessert glass, turning it in my hand, “—was so good I swear I felt parts of my mouth I didn’t know existed. The banana with the crunch is just… wow.”
Sebastian’s lips slowly tugged into a grin, the tightness in his shoulders easing as a quiet breath slipped out. His fingers, which had been drumming against the basket, finally stilled.
“And the whipped cream makes it melt in your mouth,” I added, watching as his grin softened, his eyes flicking down for a second like he was trying to hide how pleased he was. But I caught it—that flicker of pride mixed with the gears already turning in his head, thinking about how to make the next one even better.
I saw his hand moving toward his curls, a nervous habit that always meant he was overthinking something. Quickly, I shifted the conversation to something else. “How’s the cottage going?” I asked, watching as his fingers paused mid-air, giving me a chance to pull him away from whatever he was about to get lost in.
At 20, my interests were all over the place and unclear. Turning 20 just before summer only made things worse, as my dad felt I’d been out of high school too long and couldn’t spend the rest of my days teaching online French and English or helping him with our family’s fruit business. So he made it his mission to offer advice and suggest different paths, but nothing ever caught my attention, not in a way that made the blood in my veins burn, that feeling that I had to do it, like I couldn’t live without it.
“What’s that on your shoulder?”
Remembering that my mum had told me to take off whatever I had stuck there, I moved my hand over a few spots until my fingers brushed against something hard. Once I grabbed it, I glanced at it and sighed. “A pamphlet for the University of Barcelona.”
Sylvie hissed, tilting her head to the side. “Uh oh, here it comes. The time when he starts leaving pamphlets everywhere like they just appeared there by magic.” When I didn’t respond or even look her way, she continued. “The architecture program?”
I nodded, frustrated. Before my eyes could focus on the words, I scrunched the pamphlet between my hands and let it drop to my feet, knowing that as soon as we reached our destination, I’d toss it into the nearest trash can.
“Hey.” Sylvie’s voice cut through my swirling thoughts, and I felt the light pressure of her elbow nudging me. “Are you worried?” Her voice was soft, but her eyes were sharp, searching my face for any hint of what was bothering me.
I didn’t respond, my hands tightening around the armrest as my mind raced. With a groan, I tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. My jaw clenched, teeth grinding, and I exhaled sharply through my nose.
Sylvie had an uncanny way of reading people, like she could sense the tiniest shifts in my expression. Her gaze seemed to pierce through the walls I’d built, as if my every emotion was laid bare. She watched me for a moment, her brow furrowing before her lips parted. “Everything will be fine,” she said, her voice firm. The corners of her eyes crinkled with sincerity. “You’ll find something.”
“Let’s listen to some music,” I suggested, my voice lighter now, an almost chuckle slipping out as I reached for the radio. As the first notes filled the air, a bit of the tension in my chest loosened. The thoughts that had been swirling in my mind tried to creep back, but the beat pulled me in. Without thinking, I started singing along, and soon our voices rose over the song.
I glanced over at Sylvie, who was expertly handling the wheel. Sunlight spilt through the window, catching the strands of her hair as they fluttered in the breeze. Her profile, bathed in light and shadow, seemed to shift with the movement of the car. For a moment, I forgot to breathe, mesmerised by the way the light played on her face, making her look even more beautiful than I remembered.
The eerie feeling from my dream still hung around, as if I hadn’t seen her in ages.
Everything clicked into place in that instant.
All I wanted was for this summer to last forever.
Chapter 3
Geneviève
Beads of sweat trickled from my hairline down the nape of my neck, forming an unbearable cascade under the relentless sun. My straw hat and long-sleeved shirt clung to my clammy skin, offering little relief as I worked. My sister and I had just got back from the stores, picking up a few things Dad had texted us to grab. We were running a bit later than usual, but it was still the perfect time to harvest the apricots just as Dad had reminded me to do in his text.
Exhaling deeply, I stretched my right arm to its limits, even tiptoeing on the metal staircase for a few extra inches. My gloved fingers closed around the last ripe apricot. My dad had taught me long ago that its colour and soft, velvety skin were the best signs of ripeness. So, with a careful twist and a gentle pull, the apricot slipped free from the branch and into my hand, perfectly whole, without a single bruise or mark.
Sliding off my gloves, I wiped the sweat from my brow, only to feel even grosser as it smeared onto the back of my hand. Then a sudden sound made me pause. Turning toward the shade, I spotted Mr. Whiskers sprawled out lazily, his tail flicking as he gnawed on chicory flowers. His soft purring stood in sharp contrast to the scattered mess of shredded petals around him.
“Behave!” I called, pointing a finger at him. “Remember the stomachache you had last time!”
He met my warning with a glint of defiance, his eyes fixed on the chicory flowers. I wagged a finger at him, the gesture sharp and intentional.
“No cuddles from me tonight if your tummy acts up!”
My threat didn’t faze him. With a sigh, I made my way down the metal stairs, each step echoing with a rhythmic clink.
The basket rested snugly against my waist as I held the gloves in one hand and gripped the metal railing with the other. The scorching sun heated the railing so much that it burned my palm, making me yelp in surprise. Sweat dripped down my face, and all I could think about was a cold shower.
Gosh, I couldn’t wait for it.
When I finally stepped under the cool water, my body felt weightless, the heat and sweat from the day, along with the remnants of my nightmare, melting away. The tension in my shoulders eased, and they dropped naturally, no longer hunched or held tight. For the first time in a while, they settled comfortably.
Once I was dry, I reached for one of my favourite bikinis—a navy blue set decorated with delicate white flowers that seemed to flutter across the fabric. The deep blue complemented my sun-kissed skin perfectly. To finish the look, I added a sleeveless white tank top and a flowing azure skirt that cascaded like a waterfall.
My damp hair refused to cooperate, staying stubbornly tousled despite my efforts with a wide-tooth comb. The moisture would inevitably seep into the back of my top and part of my skirt, leaving small, clingy patches. But I didn’t care. Using a hairdryer seemed downright laughable in this intense heat.
In the rush of showering, dressing, and hastily applying sun cream and concealer, I hadn’t noticed Mr. Whiskers was missing from my room. Usually, he’d stroll in without a care, claiming his space with ease. But then I heard my mum’s unmistakable laughter drift up from downstairs, making me freeze mid-motion. I strained to catch any other voices that might explain her amusement, but there was nothing else. With Dad gone until lunchtime and my sister having dropped me off before going out with her friends, the source of Mum’s laughter could only be one person.
Suddenly, one name flashed into my mind.
The mere thought brought tears to my eyes, and my hands trembled. For a moment, I considered sitting down in my desk chair to compose myself as the tremors spread to my legs. But then, a rush of exhilaration surged through me, like the feeling you get after facing something you were terrified of, making me grin almost foolishly. Ignoring my unsteady legs, I pushed forward and glanced at the clock one last time—12:12—before hurrying down the stairs.
With each step, the sounds grew clearer, and any doubt about the identity of the voice melted away. There was only one person it could be.
Him.
Sebastian Ventura. The one person who had been my best friend for as long as I could remember.
My gaze swept over him, trying to take in every detail, but as usual, he spotted me before I had a chance to fully take him in.
Perched on a barstool, he shifted the moment he sensed my presence. His eyes lit up, and while my mum was speaking to him, not wanting to be disrespectful, he nodded along to what she was saying. But the right corner of his lip quivered upward, and his eyes kept darting to me every couple of seconds. When my mum finished, he pushed himself off the stool and stepped closer, his hands slipping into the pockets of his shorts.
“You took your time this morning, Wheels,” he said, his voice carrying its usual soothing tone.
Sebastian’s way of speaking was always calm and pleasant. In all the years we’d known each other, I couldn’t recall him ever raising his voice. Whenever he was frustrated or angry—which wasn’t often—he would close his eyes, take a deep breath, and continue speaking in a way that, whether you wanted it or not, would soothe you.
“Did you happen to forget I was coming back today?” His tone was teasing. His absence had only been a few days. A brief trip to visit his grandparents and pick up a certificate from a course he’d taken months ago, but those few days had felt like an eternity. I had missed him more than usual, especially after that unsettling dream. The Geneviève from that time had been feeling something I’d never experienced before. The ache in her chest had been so intense that I had to fight the urge to scratch it obsessively, as if trying to carve the pain out.
Needing to be close to him, I didn’t say a word. I leaped into his arms, and with a surprised huff, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me up and closer. The familiar strength of his hold eased something tight in my chest, and I let my arms fall around his shoulders, resting there as if they belonged.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, the tremor in my voice betraying the flood of emotions I barely held in check.
His response was immediate, lifting me off the ground and leaving me suspended in his hold, yet always secure. Despite being fairly tall at 5’7’’, Sebastian’s height far surpassed mine, allowing him to lift me effortlessly. He swayed us from side to side, the motion almost silent except for his soft humming, his chest vibrating against mine. The sound lulled me, and before I knew it, my eyes fluttered shut.
I caught the faint scent of sea salt and apricots, carried on skin warmed by the sun—sweet, salty, and unmistakably his.
A few minutes later, I found my footing again, and as he set me down, I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes locked onto mine, deep chocolate brown with flecks of gold swirling within them like molten amber.
Sebastian’s golden curls had grown longer at the back, the sun lightening the tips to a sandy blonde. His skin had taken on a rich tan, the kind you get from spending too much time in the sun. Despite my constant reminders to use sunscreen, he’d just laugh and talk about how much he liked the freckles that dotted his nose and shoulders, which always set me off into a rant about skin damage.
Meeting his gaze, I realised I might have been staring too long. “Everything okay?” he asked, his smile faltering for a second as he tilted his head, his eyes searching my face. His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, something he did often. I noticed the slight gap between his front teeth, something he was self-conscious about, but to me, it only made him more him.
I had been so focused on his return that I hadn’t noticed my mum had slipped away. Glancing to my right, I saw the spot where she had been was now empty. When I turned back to Sebastian, his eyes were already on me, focused and waiting. “Back to our summer routine?” he asked, tilting his head toward the kitchen aisle. Following his gaze, I spotted a basket beside a bag of apricots, most likely left by my mum for him to take home. He was obsessed with them.
Excitement bubbled up inside me, nearly bursting into a squeal. “What did you bake today?” I asked, biting my lower lip to stop myself from drooling at the thought of what might be inside that basket.
He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. When he saw my hand inching toward it, he gently patted it. Yet, I couldn’t help leaning closer, eager for a sneak peek. “Uh-uh,” he said, his voice teasing. “It’s a surprise. And there’s a new recipe this time.”
Impatience laced my words. “Seriously, why are we still waiting?” I spun around, excitement propelling me toward my room. Sebastian’s laughter followed me as I nearly tripped, rushing up the stairs two steps at a time. I grabbed my rucksack and stuffed it with anything I might need.
I wished I could say the journey was quiet, but instead, I spent the whole time trying (and failing) to get him to tell me what he’d baked. Even though we weren’t headed to our secret place today, we took the same familiar route.
Sebastian and I had a place we called our own, even if it wasn’t exactly a secret. It was tucked away, rarely visited by anyone else, making it feel like it belonged to us, or at least, that’s how I liked to think of it. The spot itself was breathtaking, but the journey through our town was just as special. Each season made the path feel a little different, but summer was when it truly came alive for me. The open, sun-drenched fields, free of trees, stretched out like something from a painting or a film.
Sometimes, I would catch Sebastian closing his eyes, letting the tranquillity wash over him.
When we arrived, I spread a picnic blanket on the sand, my movements hurried as Sebastian shook his head and laughed. He knew I was rushing because I couldn’t wait to see what he’d brought. But as always, we turned it into a competition—who could get their things down and get into the water first. I scrambled to get everything set, but soon enough, Sebastian had tossed his bag aside and flung his shirt, half of it landing on the sand. With a wild laugh, he dashed toward the water, diving in head first when it reached his knees. Amused, I called him a cheater and followed close behind.
We swam for about an hour, and I nearly drowned from laughter when Sebastian started pretending to be a mermaid, singing Under the Sea and accidentally swallowing water in the process. His exaggerated, undulating movements had me laughing so hard my limbs felt like jelly. By the time our fingers started to prune, we let the sun guide us back to the spot where we had left our belongings.
Once we sat down on the picnic blanket, I couldn’t wait for Sebastian to show me what he’d brought. I noticed how excited he looked, and I found my gaze drifting over him. His body had got stronger over time from lifting weights at home; he’d set up a makeshift gym in his living room because he hated going to the actual gym. He’d always had a problem with Law Davidson flirting with his mum, missing every hint that she wasn’t interested. Sebastian didn’t like the idea of being there and having to hold back from saying something to Law, especially if he made a comment he couldn’t ignore.
On top of that, he was up and running by 5:30 a.m. most mornings. His physique wasn’t overly bulky, but it was well-defined. His chest was solid, his abs more noticeable than ever, and even when he was still, his biceps stood out.
“You didn’t put on any sunblock?” I asked, noticing the pinkish hue on his shoulders. Ugh, he never learned. Sebastian reached into the pink basket he’d brought, picking out a handful of pastries while giving me a sheepish smile, clearly trying to distract me.
“Sebastian,” I whined, the frustration barely masked.
At the sound of his name, his eyes widened in mild surprise, like he hadn’t expected me to call him out. “It’s not from today,” he blurted, as if that would make everything better. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.
He met my gaze for a second, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. He shifted, uncomfortable. “Okay, maybe I forgot to use sunblock when I went to visit my grandmother.” He paused, studying my face for any sign of my reaction. I raised both brows now, sensing there was more he wasn’t telling me.
Sebastian shrugged, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced away. “I might’ve forgotten to put some on this morning when I went for a run,” he admitted, his eyes flicking back to me. The nervous edge in his smile gave him away. He knew exactly what was coming. He always ran shirtless, convinced that if the sun wasn’t burning down on him, sunscreen was optional.
I was about to launch into my usual lecture about sunscreen when Sebastian popped a bite of dessert into my mouth. The words vanished as the flavours exploded on my palate. Banana, something crispy, and a smooth, creamy taste that I guessed was whipped cream. “Holy shit, Seb,” I mumbled, my eyes closing as I let the taste caress the inside of my mouth. I sank back onto the blanket, a satisfied sigh escaping my lips, and cracked one eye open to peek at him.
From behind the basket, he pulled out a perfectly layered dessert glass. My eyes widened, and I propped myself up, unable to hide my excitement. I must’ve looked like a kid, my gaze following his every move as he handed me the glass with a soft laugh. “Golden Banana Crisp Parfaits.”
“I’d ask more questions, but I’m too busy enjoying this.” Grinning, I grabbed the spoon from his hand and took a bite, barely holding back a satisfied hum as the flavours hit me.
“It’s banana mousse with a crunch from the cereal toppings. A layer of each,” he explained, his eyes flicking between the dessert and me. He watched intently as I took another spoonful, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the basket.
“Is it good enough?” His voice carried a subtle tremor, which he tried to hide with a cough. Of course, I knew better. Sebastian always obsessed over the details, even if he acted confident. And right now, despite the casual look on his face, his eyes gave him away, waiting for my answer.
“It’s absolutely perfect,” I said, leaning in to make sure he knew I meant it. “The flavours... they just blend so well. I might not be an expert, but this—” I held up the empty dessert glass, turning it in my hand, “—was so good I swear I felt parts of my mouth I didn’t know existed. The banana with the crunch is just… wow.”
Sebastian’s lips slowly tugged into a grin, the tightness in his shoulders easing as a quiet breath slipped out. His fingers, which had been drumming against the basket, finally stilled.
“And the whipped cream makes it melt in your mouth,” I added, watching as his grin softened, his eyes flicking down for a second like he was trying to hide how pleased he was. But I caught it—that flicker of pride mixed with the gears already turning in his head, thinking about how to make the next one even better.
I saw his hand moving toward his curls, a nervous habit that always meant he was overthinking something. Quickly, I shifted the conversation to something else. “How’s the cottage going?” I asked, watching as his fingers paused mid-air, giving me a chance to pull him away from whatever he was about to get lost in.
