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“You don’t have to explain, if it makes you uncomfortable.” I tell him.
“I guess we’re both not great with talking about feelings and shit…” he echoes my earlier statement.
We fall into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side on the north side of the monument. Our feet dangle over the cold stone foundation as we look out across the River Wear towards the industrial green belt of Sunderland. From here we have an unobstructed 360 degree view of the city and in the distance the North Sea twinkles in the sunlight.
I turn my body sideways and rest my back against the thick stone pillar with my legs outstretched on the floor in front of me feeling the tightness settling in. Leaning forward, I grab my feet to stretch out my muscles after our punishing run. I procrastinate a little more before I attempt my apology.
Fuck, this is hard.
“You don’t have to talk, but I get the feeling you want to,” he prompts, turning his head sideways to look at me. He must have a sixth sense or something.
“I find it extremely difficult to admit that I’m wrong.” I take a deep breath. “But I was wrong about you and I’m sorry I judged you. And I don’t believe you’re doing this solely for the money because I don’t think any amount of money is worth sitting listening to Debbie talk for an hour and a half about what it feels like to play football on your period.” He laughs at thememory. “I’d really like to start fresh and get to know you and your project properly.”
“I’d really like that too,” he says. “And I’m sorry, because I judged you too.”
“You did?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“The first time I met you, I thought you were a stuck-up bitch, if I’m honest,” he says and a laugh bubbles out from deep within me followed by another and another until we’re both laughing uncontrollably.
Passers-by stare at us, but I barely notice because it feels so good to let go of all the shields protecting my emotions. I don’t remember the last time I laughed like this over something so small and ridiculous. It’s the kind of laugh that as soon as one of us manages to stop, the other finds it even more hilarious and we start the cycle all over again.
“I’m so glad we did this,” I say, regaining a sliver of my composure and dabbing away the tears that are leaving streaks down my cheeks. “I feel so much better now.”
“I needed that laugh,” he says, his eyes shining brightly as he smiles at me, and an unfamiliar warmth radiates from my chest and settles deep within my soul.
“Yeah, me too.”
Chapter Nine
Luke
Stepping out onto the balcony, coffee in one hand, small watering can in the other, I take in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. The mornings aren’t as dark and crisp as they were a few weeks ago now that spring has sprung, and by eight, the sun is already shining above the North Sea in the distance.
I place the mug and watering can on the small wooden table and lift my arms high above my head as I stretch out my back. Sitting in a gaming chair for almost forty-eight hours is not great for the spine.
“Morning, Stanley,” I say happily to the plant as I give him a healthy glug of water.
When Natasha and I got home from our run a fortnight ago, I finally gave in and googled her. And I know that sounds stalkerish, but it was in the name of research.
Sort of.
Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole, watching her play and being interviewed, starting early in her career to as recently as last week. Reading the harsh comments and criticism she has received lately, I’m overwhelmed with the urge to protect her.
I’m overwhelmed by another urge too.
“Who’s Stanley?” Natasha’s curious voice drifts over from her balcony. I jump in surprise; I hadn’t noticed her sitting on the other side of the low wall at her bistro table, sipping her own coffee.
“The plant,” I answer, cringing internally.
“Yeah, I know. Hannah talks to him too.” She chuckles, standing to lean her elbows on the wall that separates us. She’s stunning in the morning, her rich brown hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head and her skin is smooth, bright and void of any make-up.
In a short space of time her attitude towards me hanging around the academy has changed entirely and each day we spend time together there, she opens up a little bit more, revealing small parts of her personality. I’ve come to learn she’s witty and sarcastic, but also highly self-critical and self-depreciating when it comes to her skill.
I’m sure there’s still a lot about her I don’t know, but what I do know, I like. And I mean, Ireallylike her and I think she likes me too.Now that we’re friends, I’m hopeful I’ll get to know her better still and see where this goes.
“Oh great, now I look like a crazy plant lady like my little sister!”
“Want to know a secret?” she asks with a sparkle in her eye. “I talk to him too,” she whispers loudly, and I laugh effortlessly, like I have every time she says something funny.
