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“I didn’t get fireworks, by the way.”
“What?”
“Last night. I didn’t get fireworks like I said I would. I remember vague bits. I ended up outside my school and thinking about what I’m doing next with my life. Everyone reckons I’m a troublemaker, but I like having fun. Life is too short to be perfect.” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. “I’m good to my dad, and I do most of my work, so what does it matter?”
Was he trying to justify himself to her? Why did he care? “I guess. But don’t you want to be the best version of yourself? Like don’t you care what everyone thinks of you?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. Like I do stupid stuff because it gets a reaction and makes people laugh, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
“But what if it means people don’t respect you, or you get told off, or you miss out on opportunities because people don’t trust you?” Lucie forgot her drawing as she waited for his answer.
“Is that why you do things? Do you care more what others think about you than what you think?”
Lucie shrugged, but heat crept up her neck, and her fingers trembled. Was an attack coming? She’d done everything to avoid confrontation. “I’m not sure,” she replied quietly. If she lived as he did, she’d have to deal with daily fights with her dad. He would undermine her at every turn. “Look, the reason I don’t like debates and the reason I hate this conversation is that I get nervous when I have to talk about my thoughts in public. I go bright red when everyone stares at me. I can’t think quickly on my feet. I don’t like it when people speak to me aggressively or are confrontational. I’m rubbish at explaining things, and I hate being wrong, laughed at, and humiliated.” Her words ran away from her. Sickness churned in her belly, but it was worth it if it meant changing the subject and not arguing with Chris.
“Why didn’t you say that before? Your art is amazing. It’s a shame you’re not getting to use your gift and going into law instead, but I’m sure you’ve thought through your decision. I’m guessing you think things through a lot.”
Was that a back-handed compliment? A blush crept up her neck, and she nearly yanked on her ponytail, but instead, she focused on her pad. “Okay.”
They sat in an uncomfortable silence, although sounds surrounded them, including shouts and giggles from the teenagers burying the youngest lad of the group in the sand. Seagulls fought over the sandwich crusts left by the children who’d now departed with their families for the lodges. The battle was intense as more gulls joined the pair, each fighting for a couple of crumbs. It was survival of the fittest until a terrier escaped its lead and ploughed onto the beach, swallowing the crust whole before barking at the departure of the birds. It was back on its lead in seconds. The owners eventually dragged the dog off the beach as the remaining toddler clapped his hands in glee at the spectacle.
“It’s like being back at school or work,” Chris said over the busy beach sounds. “I work in a supermarket part-time, and there was this one time when we were selling beef unbelievably cheap. These two women were arguing, and one of them was threatening the other with a handbag. The one with the handbag shouted that her husband loved beef. The other woman said that she knew that because he’d been getting it and more at hers. It turned into a rolling around on the floor fight, which I had to break up. I got punched in the face that day, but it was worth it because they quietened down and apologised after that.”
She wasn’t sure if he told the story to ease the awkwardness or because he didn’t like silence. “How about you? You’ve finished school and got your results, right? What are your plans?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, tipping his head from side to side as if he was stretching his neck. Sun glinted off his tanned skin. Lucie swallowed and sucked her lower lip into her mouth. How warm would his skin be against her fingers? “I’m off to university in a couple of weeks. I’m going to be studying psychology, but don’t ask me why. I have no clue.”
“You’re not sure why you’re studying psychology?” Imagine not having your subject choice forced on you from an early age. She’d never had a choice.
“Yeah. Like should I jack it all in and work instead? The managers at Tesco are always on at me to work full-time, but going to university will make Dad happy. It’s not that he wouldn’t be happy with whatever I chose, but he’s fought hard to give me a good life since Mum left, and I don’t want to let him down,” he said with a shrug.
“I get what you mean.” She sighed. If her dad didn’t make her go into law, would she apply to do art, or was she using him as an excuse? Arguing with her dad and going against his wishes wouldn’t make life easy for mum. She couldn’t let her down.
“But you have a skill.” His eyes sparkled. The warmth rushed through her limbs again. It was a struggle to keep up with him.
“Art?”
“Yeah, you could do something amazing with that. ‘Be the exception.’ So many people are doing the right thing or the wrong thing for the sake of it. They meander through life and hope they get to the end with loads of money or status or power. You could do something with your art. ‘Be the exception.’ Don’t let fear get in your way. Please don’t let anything hold you back.”
They stared at each other, and her heart beat faster. It wasn’t like an anxiety attack though. Instead, it was like her whole world was about to be turned on its head, and he was keen to join her and would hold her hand through the journey.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. She moistened her lips with her tongue, and his eyes dropped to her lips. Her pencil rolled down the pad into the sand, and she snatched it up, breaking eye contact.
“Show me the drawing then,” he said, leaning close. His breath teased her neck as he tried to sneak a look.
“It’s not very—” He raised his eyebrows, and she quickly said, “It’s not very, umm, finished.”
“Ha! I knew you were going to say that it wasn’t very good, but you got away with it this time.” He held the pad between his hands and beamed. His dimples were as deep as the water that lapped at the edge of the artificial beach. He was beautiful. “You’re an incredible artist. I wish I were as good as you at anything, although you have a rival for drawing eyes now.”
“Thank you. And yes, you’ll be the Da Vinci of eyes,” she replied with a giggle. She spun her pen on her finger. His proximity was welcome, but she couldn’t stop fidgeting.
He leaned in closer. His deodorant smelt spicy and woody all at once. Her head went fuzzy, and she held her breath. He tucked a few loose strands of her bangs behind her ear. Lucie shivered and excitement flared. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? No way did he fancy her. She wasn’t cool enough for him.
“You accepted a compliment. I bet you don’t do that often,” Chris said softly in her ear. He had been a stranger a couple of hours ago, and yet he knew her so well. But what if he was messing with her because he was bored? His voice was lower as he whispered again, “You’re nervous, Lucie. Why is that?”
Was he teasing her? She held her breath as his hand reached for her fringe again.
“Hey, Lucie. We’ve got to get back for dinner. You’ll never guess what we won.” Emma and Jess came bounding up to her.Lucie and Chris reared away from each other. “Why are you talking to him?”
