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“I warned you, Lola. I warned you that I’d break your heart one day. I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it.
She kicks at the weatherworn boardwalk with the toe of her trainer, her fingers curling and uncurling as she decides how to respond to that. “I spent a year of my life trying to find you. I looked everywhere, Malakai. I mourned you. I thought you were dead! I should hate you,” she mutters.
“You should,” I respond. “But I can assure you that I hate myself enough for the both of us.”
“Thing is, I don’t…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I just feel relieved.”
Lola looks up at me, anger making way for the relief she describes. I’m not fool enough to believe it’s completely gone, nor do I expect it to be, but this is a better response than I’d hoped for.
“Friends?” I ask tentatively.
She grits her jaw, nodding. “God knows I should tell you where to go… but we’ve always been friends and that doesn’t change despite the fact I could happily kill you right now. Where the hell have you been?” she adds.
“It’s not important. I’m back now…”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I should’ve contacted you,” I say, evading her question again.
Lola cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at me, and for a moment I think she’s going to push the point and force me to tell her where I’ve been. She doesn’t.
“You do this again I won’t forgive you.”
“Okay.” I nod with understanding.
“Okay,” she repeats.
Then her face crumples in earnest, and in two steps she’s thrown herself into my arms, muttering curse words as she punches my chest half-heartedly with her balled up fists. I stiffen. Human contact isn’t easy for me, but I owe her this and force myself to respond. Closing my eyes against the awkwardness I feel, I lean my cheek against the top of her head and try to breathe through the moment.
“You’re lucky I have a forgiving nature,” she snips, still holding on as I tentatively hug her back. This is the second time in one day that I’ve allowed another person to touch me. It’s not something I’m used to or want. Mindless fucking of nameless women is one thing, but human contact with emotional attachments is another thing altogether.
“I am. You’re a good friend,” I say, biting down the need to push her away.
Nine years ago I met Lola in the South of France. She was travelling around Europe, a young woman with wanderlust in her heart. I’d owned Princess for about a year by then and was getting ready to set sail to Monaco when we met at a bar one night. Whilst both of us were attracted to each other initially, we soon realised that we were better off as friends. We spent the week together checking out St Tropez, then promised to stay in touch. Periodically we’d meet up on our travels, spending a few days in each other’s company. Just over a year ago, whilst in Sardinia, I received a phone call that made me cut short our little get together. I didn’t say goodbye. I just left.
I’m exactly what she says Iam, an arsehole.
Eventually she pulls back enough to look up at me. She rolls her eyes, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I really should murder you.”
“But you won’t?” I ask hopefully.
“No, I won’t.”
But she does kiss me.
It’s a sweet, friendly kiss, with zero passion or any feeling behind it other than one friend greeting another after a year of being apart, but when I pull back there’s a girl standing at the end of the dock who sees something entirely different. A girl I have no right thinking about, let alone having such a violent physical reaction to.
When Connie’s gaze meets mine, my fucking stomach drops out and my heart crashes to a halt. For a few seconds, whilst Lola looks up at me and I stare at the girl who’s off-fucking-limits, the world simply stops spinning. Everything disappears, and for just a moment we’re the only two people left on the island.
And one inexplicable, frightening thought enters my head,she’smine.
