Literary Love Affair

Hi to all you wonderful bloggers out there! Welcome to my tour stop for Lucy V. Morgan's Twisted Summer, hosted by the awesomesauce Itching for Books Tours!

Today, I'll be sharing a very juicy, very "I-want-the-book-now!" excerpt. And be sure to enter the giveaway at the end of the post! :D

Title: Twisted Summer

Author: Lucy V. Morgan

Published: April 2013

Purchase: Amazon

A dark New Adult romance

You have to understand that we never meant for it to happen. We knew it was stupid. We knew it was wrong.

Eighteen-year-old Danni Warren has big plans for her last summer before college: a cool job, a concert she wouldn’t miss for the world, and spending time with her beautiful girlfriend, Esme. But after one hell of an argument, Danni’s mother packs her off to stay with her estranged step-uncle, Gabe, in his lodge on the English coast. So begins a weekend of the worst punishment imaginable: no phone signal.

With his sun kissed good looks and sarcastic manner, twenty-nine-year-old Gabe Asher isn’t anything like Danni expected. She wants to hate him—he’s her punishment for standing up to her mother—but between surfing lessons and beach hikes, Gabe and Danni grow close. Maybe too close.

Now Danni’s questioning everything: old family secrets, her future, her strained relationship with Esme. One sun stained afternoon, Gabe and Danni go too far. And then everything else falls apart…

EXCERPT

Twisted Summer by Lucy V. Morgan
www.lucyvmorgan.com

TWISTED SUMMER LUCY V. MORGAN

Front cover design by Kenny Wright
www.kennywriter.com

Back cover design by Patti Roberts

All lyrics by Matthew Gordon © Dexter’s Noose

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re- sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

As always, I’ve had a lot of help putting this project together. Huge thanks to my lovely team of friends-slash-professionals who make this kind of thing far easier than it is for many; to my editor and designers, thank you. You’re awesome.
Additional thanks to the various people who provide ad hoc childcare for the small wonder that is my daughter. It makes working possible, and that’s very much appreciated.
Finally, thank you to the people who continue to buy my books. I write for you. I’d quite like to keep on doing it.

For A, who would just love it if I wrote something cheesy for him here. Unless, of course, it was too cheesy.

PART ONE

July 2nd 2012

“The most beautiful things live and die in a day You may think that it’s quick, they don’t feel any pain They are drowned in a teardrop, crushed in your palm In the blink of an eye, they’re alive...then embalmed.”
Dexter’s Noose

Chapter One

I wished I’d never opened my mouth.
“Seriously, Mum.” I prodded her in the shoulder from the back seat of the car. “We can turn around any time you like. I was joking. I didn’t mean it—”
She waved me off, and it wasn’t exactly gentle. “No, no. You said it: you’d rather live in the middle of nowhere than spend another minute in our poxy little house. So that’s what you’ll do for a weekend. Then we’ll see if you still feel the same way.” She huffed and puffed like an indignant rhinoceros. “Don’t put this on me, Danielle. I’ve had enough of your backchat.”
My middle finger was rising when my phone went off. I flipped it open. “Boyah.”
“Danni. Just got your message. What the frick is going on?” Esmé’s voice dragged with disappointment and my heart sank into my belly. We’d bickered enough these past few weeks—this was the last thing I needed.
“I’m sorry. It’s all crap. I can’t go see Dexter’s Noose on Saturday.” “But I got those tickets specially for your birthday. You’re going to miss—” “I know, baby.” I glared at my mum in the car mirror and she rolled her eyes in
return. “It’s not my fault. I had this stupid argument with Mum and now she’s making me spend the weekend with my weirdo uncle.”
“He’s not your uncle,” Mum snapped. “What? Why?” Esmé tutted. “Did you slag off her cooking again?” “Something like that.” “But it’s only Thursday, and you’re eighteen now. You can do whatever the hell you
want—” “Her house, her rules, blah sucky blah.” Esmé sighed. “I didn’t even know you had an uncle.” “Yeah, well...step uncle. I haven’t seen him since I was, like, the size of a midget.
He lives in some crappy cabin on the coast.” “The coast?” she exclaimed. “Where are you?” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Devon.” “Devon? Dan. That’s like a hundred miles from here.” She sniffled a bit. “I can’t
believe I don’t get to see you all weekend.” “I know...but I’ll be back on Monday, I promise. We’ve got the whole summer. I’ll
make the concert up to you.” I toyed with a streak of my dark hair. “I love you.” Esmé made that little heh noise which meant she was biting her lip. “I love you too,
pixie.” Then she hung up, and I found my middle finger wasn’t quite as twitchy. “Are you happy now?” I said to Mum. “Esmé’s really upset.” She shrugged. “Not my fault.” No, not her fault at all that I was headed farther and farther from civilization with
every mile. Out on the narrow A-roads, the shapes of overhanging trees swallowed us in shadowy gulps. When the sun shot sporadically through the branches, it flashed against the windscreen and turned the inside of the car into a yellow blur. My phone signal was waning, I felt hot and sticky, and frankly, was in indecent need of an ice cream. I finally got up the guts to express how much I hated sharing our house with Malcolm the Moron, and this was what I got in return? Great start to my summer. Everything about it sucked.
“Gabe’s going to meet us at the bottom of his track,” said Mum. “He reckons I won’t get this piece of junk up there.”
His house really was out in the sticks. “He’s got running water there, right?”
“Why would you need running water? Beach on your doorstep...you can wipe your bum on bits of seaweed...”
“Ha bloody ha.” I blinked. “Please tell me you’re joking.” She smirked at me in the mirror and I put my face in my hands. Twenty minutes later, we pulled out of the woodland and onto a tiny road. Mum’s
little Nissan had barely navigated a few twists and turns when a tall figure came into view, waving an arm inward: this way.
“Is that Uncle Gabe?” I squinted at him in disbelief. “For the last time, Danni—he’s not your uncle.” “But he’s your brother—” “Step brother. Lucky me.” She huffed to herself again. Mum had family drama that
she never talked about, and it had never really occurred to me to care before so long as they still put money in my Christmas cards (which was really crass of me, actually, wasn’t it? But I never noticed until recently. Maybe Mum had a point about my attitude. Still). The only time we really saw family anymore was our yearly holiday in Wales— which not-uncle Gabe had never attended.
The only memory I had of him was from when I was six. He’d come home from university with some friends, and I was seriously peeved that they were taking up all of Grandma’s garden with their barbecue because I wanted to make mud pies for Ziggy the grasshopper. No amount of stamping my feet or screaming hysterically would move them, and when they offered me one of their stupid hotdogs, I may have fed it to the cat.
Then the cat was sick all over Gabe’s bed at about three in the morning. He hopped and cursed in the hallway, his shoulder-length braids matted with chunks of feline vomit. He was huge and gangly, and I remember giggling to Grandma that he looked like a scarecrow.
Not now.
Gone were the braids and the awkwardly thin jaw; he’d filled out and his cheekbones jutted at model-fine angles. He’d cut his dark blond hair into a short, flicky style, and his tanned skin glowed; I half expected him to toss his head back and wink, like the star of a sunscreen ad. His faded T-shirt and surfer shorts made him look younger than I’d expected. No aging hippy here.
I prayed he wasn’t the sort who tried too hard to be cool.
Mum put a hand up at him as he guided us into the turn-off. Once we parked, I slid out of the car. The air smelled incredibly fresh compared to the city; like cut grass and mud warmed beneath afternoon sunshine. The lack of town buzz—the silence besides the
call of seagulls and rustling leaves—was pretty stifling. “You must be Danni.” Gabe shook my hand and I went a bit stiff against his cool,
smooth palm. “I haven’t seen you since—” “Yes, well. We all know why that is.” Mum cleared her throat. “No need to be soft
with her, Gabe. She’s here to be punished.” “I’m aware of that.” He looked me up and down with a pair of silver-gray eyes. I glanced away, embarrassed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “There won’t be any teddy bears’ picnics.” “I mean it.” Mum hauled my suitcase out of the boot and it landed with a crunch.
“No day trips. No presents. Absolutely no drinking and if I so much as smell a whiff of weed on her—”
“Hey.” He threw his hands up in defense. “Jess. What do you take me for?” Her upper lip twitched. “Sorry.” “Thanks.” He sighed in my direction. “We’ll have a chat, yeah? It’s not on to be rude
to your mother.” I scraped a pattern in the gravel with the tip of my shoe. “Whatever.” “What-evaaah,” he mimicked. I was about to shoot him a cuss but he tutted loudly.
“Yep. We’ll soon sort you out.” Oh my God. I HATED him. Mum tried to hug me. I shrugged her off with a hiss. “Fine,” she muttered. “Be like that. I’ll see you on Monday morning, Danielle.” “See ya.” I knew I sounded about twelve, but the pair of them were ganging up on
me and it made my stomach churn. I hated being patronized. You get all this talk about being an adult when you turn eighteen, but nobody actually lets you be one.
Mum climbed into the car and shot a helpless look at Gabe, who pressed his lips together. Wiggled his eyebrows.
What a cock.
The gravel ground beneath the tires as she reversed. They spat sand and stone-shards against my bare calves, and I jumped back, landing against my suitcase. Then the Nissan swung out on to the road and slowly, slowly grew smaller.
The air swelled heavy with aaaawkward. I think there was sand in my mouth. “So,” said Gabe, “your Mum’s kind of a bitch, huh?” I gawped up at him. “Um. Possibly?” “Well.” He slid thick fingers beneath the handle of my suitcase and tugged it up.
“Let’s get you back to the house.” I followed him on to the dirt track, taking broad steps to keep up. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” he added. “It’s nice to see you too.” “Oh yeah. Weekend with Uncle Gabe. Somebody call the fun police.” He threw me a sarcastic scowl. “Okay. First things first—no more of this uncle
bullshit. I’m just Gabe. It makes me feel old.” “You are old.”
“I’m twenty-nine, you cheeky madam.” “My apologies. You’re a spring chicken.” There was a gentle tug at my ponytail and I realized his fist had closed around it. I
shuddered as I nudged him off. “I’m starting to see what your Mum meant.” He flicked the sun-bleached wooden
gate open. “You know, I don’t remember you being so...bouncy.” I snapped up. “What?” “Bratty.” He coughed. “I don’t remember you being so bratty.” A vision of cat-sicked braids flashed in my head. “You sure about that?” He held the gate open and nodded for me to follow. “Don’t push your luck.” Mum’d told me Gabe had a cabin; what he actually had was a glorified garden shed
nestled in a little clearing. A stack of logs climbed one side and ivy snaked across the other; the air smelled like charcoal and more freshly cut grass. Not far behind the sloped roof, waves swayed and sparkled in the sunshine as they lapped against a pebbled shore. A dusty Range Rover was parked to one side and cast a welcome spell of shade.
I’d planned on feeling stroppy and claustrophobic at this moment, but actually...it was kind of pretty.
“You’ve got running water, right?” I croaked.
He poked me in the shoulder. “I think you’ll be impressed at the array of modern conveniences I have, Miss Warren. Shower...electricity...”
“Internet?” Please. Please? “Unlucky.” He shook his head. “Now...welcome to my humble abode.” The wooden door creaked open and I stepped into the living area. A small kitchen
occupied the left corner, and a corner-group sofa draped in patterned blankets dominated most of the remaining space. Shelves groaned under the weight of books and plants and photo frames, and the beat-up coffee table was scattered with shells.
“Bedroom’s the door over on your right,” he said, “and the bathroom is beside it.”
I glanced up from the piece of coral I was fingering on the fireplace. “There’s only one bedroom? So where will I...?”
“I’ll have the sofa. It’s comfy enough.” He left my suitcase beside the table and went to switch the kettle on. “Coffee?”
“Not really a fan.”
“Right. Um.” He peered into the fridge, wincing slightly as the light illuminated the dim corner. “I’ve got 7Up or milk. Are you too old for milk?”
My eyes darted left to right. “You’re going to offer me cocoa and a bedtime story as well, aren’t you?”
He snorted. “I hadn’t planned on being that creepy old guy.” He held the 7Up aloft and it cast dancing shards of bottle-green over the pale wood floor. “Better?”
“Okay. So, like...” I stroked the coral’s bumpy surface again. “Why do you live here?” Why were you in a shed in the middle of nowhere, Gabe, and not a house like a normal person?
“This is my summer place. It gets way too cold in the winter, though. I’ve got a flat back in Plymouth where I spend most of the term.” The 7Up frothed into a pint glass as he poured. “I lecture at the uni there.”
“Anything interesting?” “Paleobiology.” “Oh.” I smiled before I could help myself. “I actually know what that is.” Esmé had
applied to study oceanography and there was a paleobiology module. “Prehistoric plants and stuff, right?”
“A gold star for the brunette in row B6! Yep, pretty much.” He gestured about as he brought a mug to his lips. “Plants, animals...all sorts. I’ve got a fair few specimens in here.”
I took the glass he offered and swallowed in four gulps. God, I was thirsty. “Long journey from Bristol, eh?” he said. “Yeah.” I folded my arms. “Esmé would like it here.” “Esmé?”
“My girlfriend.” I still felt fuzzy saying that.
“Oh. I see.” He tried not to grin, but it was there anyway: white teeth flashed around a hint of pink tongue. He looked filthy.
I should not have had these thoughts about my not-uncle. Fuck. Why didn’t I smuggle any vodka?
“Have you been together long?” he said.
“Five months, fourteen days.” A blush prickled across my cheeks as I glanced at the time on my phone. “And about three hours.”
“It’s love, then. Ahh.” His grin melted to a smile. “Congratulations.” “Thanks.” It was the way Esmé always told people. I felt like I should do the same. We stood in silence for a moment, his fingers drumming on the kitchen counter. I
pretended to be interested in his textbook collection. “So,” he said eventually. “Want to go and explore a bit? Stretch your legs after that
long journey?” What I actually wanted to do was hide in the bathroom and call Esmé for one of our
dirty gossips, but...no signal. Fail, fail, fail. “Exploring it is,” I muttered. Gabe led me around the back of the house, past a collection of brightly-colored
surfboards, and on to a narrow stone path surrounded by gorse bushes. The almond scent of the blossoms was underscored by the heavy, salty air of the sea that the breeze carried in.
We were headed down to the beach I’d seen earlier. Even behind my sunglasses, the yellow sand was a sharp shot of colour beside the early evening sky. The clouds were closing in, wispy little fists chasing the waves. As much as I hated to admit it, I felt more relaxed here—in the company of a stranger—than I had at home lately.
“Are those solar panels up on the roof?” I pointed back to the house. “Yep. A lot of the houses here have them.” “You’re all eco, huh?” “So should you be.” He glanced around, his shoulders loose as he walked. He had a
bit of a strut going on. “One of the nice things about living here is how cut off I am. I fend for myself. All I need,” he smiled, pointing up, “is the sun. It tells me when to wake up and when to sleep. Keeps me warm. Powers everything. Makes me happy, actually.”
I squinted at him. “That’s the pansiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Gabe rolled gray eyes at me beneath his flicky fringe. “What’s with this attitude then, huh? What’s landed you here?”
Here with the person Mum appeared to hate the most? “Didn’t she tell you?”
“She thinks you’re getting lippy.” He paused to open a battered gate and we stepped out on to the beach. “She’s struggling, Danni.”
The gate creaked as I leaned on it to slip off my sandals. The sand was warm and powdery beneath my toes. I knew he wanted to say that Mum must’ve been desperate if she’d turned to him, but he was too polite to do so. It was nice to be considered like that...I think.
“She’s just...ugh. She’s got this boyfriend and he’s there like, all the time. Malcolm the Moron, I call him. They want me to be seen-not-heard. Like I’m five.”
“You don’t get on with him?”
“He’s a cock.” I wrinkled my nose. “He takes it upon himself to comment on everything—always nosing over my shoulder if I’m on the laptop, or tells me that my dinner isn’t very healthy, or something. And Mum always stands up for him.”
We padded down toward the water where the breeze whipped my ponytail against my neck. God, it was hot.
“Must be hard having somebody else in your space like that after your Mum’s been single all this time.” Gabe shielded his eyes with a hand. “Does she know how you feel about him?”
“Yeah. And she just keeps going on about how she’ll be all alone when I go off to uni in September, and that I should be happy that she’s got someone. And I get that, I do...I don’t want her to be alone. But why do I have to put up with a complete arse just because of it? It’s my house too.” I’d thought about this myself; I’d never had to share Mum before. I had a father somewhere apparently but he’d never shown up for work, so to speak. Maybe I just wasn’t used to having a man around, I’d told myself. Maybe Malcolm reminded me that I didn’t have a dad.
But no. No. He really was just a cock. He took a deep breath. “Look, I know Jess. I know she’s stubborn. And pissy.” I couldn’t suppress my snigger at that one. “But she might have a point,” he said. “I mean, if she hasn’t had anyone since your
dad...father...that’s a long time to be alone. I’m not saying this guy isn’t a twat; maybe he is. He sounds like it. He might also be very good for her.”
I fiddled with the strap of my sundress nervously. “It’s not fair, the way she lets him treat me.”
“No, probably not. She’s only human though, Danni.” He offered me a rueful smile. “Listen. I’m not going to break your balls here—hell, I hardly know you. Don’t know if you even need it. So let’s make a deal: I’ll let you have a little holiday of a weekend, and you think about cutting your Mum some slack, okay? Just don’t tell her I went soft on you. Please.”
“Not sure how I’m supposed to have a holiday with no Internet,” I grumbled. “I’ve got a liquor cabinet.” There was that grin again, the one that made my muscles twitch in places they
shouldn’t. Look away! Think about sticky girl parts! Ah... “Okay, okay.” I dropped my voice to a stage whisper. “I keep it quiet, you feed me
booze. This, I can work with. Best. Uncle. Ever.”
“Enough with the Uncle-ing. Seriously. Fucking hell.” He laughed at himself, scraping hair behind his ears in fingerfuls. “But yeah. Maybe we can make up for a little lost time?”
“I’d like that.” I did want to hate him, but he was being so...reasonable. “Come on then. Let’s go find some dinner.” I was shaking the sand off my feet in his doorway when I heard him groan. “Great. Great. Some job I’m doing.” He started rifling through the fridge. “What?” I checked my fly...but I was wearing a dress, and had no fly. “Let me guess—you forgot the sunblock?” “I...” I grazed fingers over my collarbone, and it stung. Crap. “Not much need for it
in Bristol.” “You’re totally burned.” He fished a blue bottle out and gestured toward the sofa.
“Come here. I’ve got Aftersun. Let’s just hope it fades before Monday.” I sank down next to him against a cushion embroidered with pretty shell patterns, and he poured thick, white cream into my hands. It reeked of coconuts and it reminded me instantly of my trips to Spain with Mum. I lowered the straps of my dress and began
to work it into my shoulders. “So how come you’re never at family stuff?” I’d been dying to ask him. Screw you,
tact! “Are you like a black sheep, or something?” He spread his arms across the back of the couch. “A tanned sheep.” He chuckled. If he was a) in a romance novel and b) had dimples, I’d have been all over those little
pits of filth. Oh, look at the dimples, you sexy mutha fudger. Except he had none, and he was still worthy of a swooning girl with a pen. Gabe, one; dimples, nil.
And the second after I’d made that little observation, a fist of acid shot up from the depths of my stomach and jabbed me so hard in the throat, I nearly groaned. Guilt. It was like swallowing sandpaper.
“Am I a black sheep? Heh. There’s a question. Honestly?” Gabe said. “Honestly.” “The age gap between me and your Mum wasn’t exactly conducive to playing happy
families. I was that annoying little brother when she was getting ready to go out or trying to do her homework; we didn’t have a lot in common. She hated my dad—they never got on. A bit like you and Malcolm, maybe. Then she got her law degree and her swanky job, and well...I was off poking ferns, as my dad refers to it.” He swallowed. “Danni...there are a lot of reasons why I’m just happier not being a big part of the family. Nothing dodgy, just the way it is. I function better. But it’s not personal to you.” He nudged me gently. “Truth be told, I was kind of chuffed when your Mum called me.”
“You were glad you’d get to punish me?” I scowled at him.
“I was glad we’d have a chance to spend some time together, because we never did. I mean, the age-gap thing kind of struck again, huh?”
“Yeah.” “You want some help with your back, there?” He picked up the Aftersun. “I can’t really reach.” “No worries. Shuffle over.” I scooped my ponytail out of the way and then his fingers, loaded with cool cream,
hit my skin. Electric.
I nearly jumped off the sofa. “Are you okay?” He sounded amused. “It’s just really cold,” I squeaked. “Pale skinned weaklings. You and summer don’t mix.” He was grinning; I
practically heard it. “I’ve got some factor thirty somewhere. I’ll dig it out for you.” My eyes fell closed as he massaged my shoulders. He applied long, lazy strokes for a few minutes before I realized he was covering places I’d already done, and when his fingertips grazed the tops of my breasts, breath leapt from my mouth in little bursts. I wanted him to stop. No, I wanted him to carry on. To go lower. My bra felt unusually...
full.
I kept trying to tell myself that this was normal. Almost. I never really knew him as my uncle. Technically, he wasn’t my uncle at all. My body was responding to a handsome man, not a guy who was part of my family. Logical—that was the word. He probably didn’t realize the effect he had on me.
Then I thought about how Esmé would feel if she could see me. With a sigh of regret, I shifted away and shrugged his hands off.
“All done,” he said, unfazed. “So. Dinner. Is pasta good?”
“Pasta’s fine.” I pulled my straps up and they welded against my slick skin. “Good. Thank you.”
As he cooked, Gabe told me funny stories about Mum when she was younger. There was the time she brought home her boyfriend and Gabe pelted the poor guy with water balloons from the upstairs window; the stupid Christmas presents they used to buy for Grandma each year, like fake dog turd and Harlequin novels. When Gabe was seven, Mum told him there was an evil spirit who lived in the house called Spooky McTapper, and when he’d been especially annoying, she’d sit and tap his walls at night while he tried desperately not to wet himself (I laughed. I know—I’m a meanie).
When he put down the plate of spaghetti, I surprised myself with my own hunger. “Thanks.” I speared a prawn and a leaf of rocket. “So.” He sat a few cushions away on the couch. “Any plans for the summer?” “I’ve got this job at a club which I do a couple nights a week. Nothing fancy, but I
get to see the bands for free, work on the bar and stuff.” “You like rock music?” “I like metal.” I cocked my head as if nonchalantly indicating a difference between
the two. He grinned again. “You don’t look like a metal chick.” “Yeah, people say I don’t look like a lesbian either.” I reached for my drink. “Maybe
I’ll stick a safety pin through my nose before uni and save everyone the trouble, huh?” He pointed with his fork. “At your age, things like music and sexuality are meant to be the utter definitions of who you are. At least seven websites say so. Judging by most of my students, they’re right, too...you ought to see the state of them. It’s like teaching
the bloody cast of Glee.” “Sorry, sorry. I suppose I should cut my hair too. What do you think?” I tugged my
ponytail so it fell over my scalp. “Mohawk? Ultimate rawk lezza statement.” “Nah. I like your hair the way it is.” The ponytail slid along my shoulder in a brush of silk, and I avoided his eyes. “Not used to compliments, are you?” he said. Not from adult men, no. “It’s okay.” I pressed my lips together. “And thank you.” “Got a favourite band?” “Yep. Dexter’s Noose.” My nerves peaked as I remembered the concert. “I was
meant to go see them tomorrow but I guess I’ll miss it now.” Gabe stared at his plate. Great—now I’d made him feel uncomfortable. “But you know,” I said quickly, “it would have been really...um. Noisy.” He snorted with laughter. “Yeah. Stupid noise. Making everyone hear things.” “Exactly.” “I was in a band when I was your age.” “Oh?” I perked up at that. “Pray tell?” “Hell, no. We were obscenely bad.” He picked at his salad, rolling a sliver of rocket
between his fingers. “Some things belong in the past; my turn as a tortured rock god is one of them.”
“Were you even that tortured?” “No.” He laughed again. “But I was middle class and verbosely angry.” “Tell me some of your lyrics. Go on,” I begged. “No. But if you like, I’ll put on an Italian accent and say something cheesy like I’d
tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” “I changed my mind. Spare me.” We ate for a few moments with just the TV quiz show for background noise. I made
patterns in the garlic oil that lingered on my plate. I wondered why I’d tried to make a point about being a lesbian...I was bi as far as I knew and normally, I took great pleasure in correcting people. In fact I hated it when people did exactly that—made a big point about their sexuality just for the sake of it.
“What will you be studying at uni?” he said. “Architecture.” He blinked. “Really? Wow.” “Yeah.” I shrugged. “Everyone says that. I’ve got to do an art year first, though.” “It’s a long course. Your Mum must be proud you got in.” If I knew him better right
then, I might have noticed he was the tiniest bit sad at not being told. “Congratulations. Should I ask what you think about Shack du Gabe?”
The giggles fizzed from my mouth. “It’s...well. Does what it says on the tin.”
“I did wonder about some gargoyles outside, maybe? Bit of gothic splendor?” He flashed his canines and flexed crooked fingers. “Grr.”
“I’m more of a glass-and-concrete kind of girl. Anyway, if uni wasn’t so much fun, you wouldn’t have stayed for God knows how many years, right?”
“The best thing about uni is...” He searched for the word. “It’s an escape. I sometimes notice that the students of mine who do best are there because there’s nothing to go home for. They’re working for the chance to stay away.”
“Was it an escape for you?” Such a candid question; I didn’t mean to ask it so
bluntly (this time. I was actually developing some tact). “Yeah. It was.”
“From Mum and Aunt Lizzie?”
“From a very beautiful, toxic girl, actually.” He set his plate down with a clatter. “The way you told me how long you’d been with Esmé for, the measurements...well. With this girl, I ended up staying for about forty screeching rows, seventeen beers over my head and two attempted overdoses.” He pursed his lips. “The overdoses were her. Suicide was never quite my boat.”
“Not really very eco.”
“I dunno, actually.” He started laughing. “Have to say, I’ve never really considered how environmentally friendly topping yourself is. Though I suppose we’re probably better off dead in terms of consumption.”
“We’re polluting the sky or occupying landfill if we’re all corpsed.”
“Jesus. I take it back. With lines like that, you’re definitely a metal chick.” He nodded toward the fridge. “Want pudding?”
“Fruit’s good, if you have it.” “Fruit for the rawk lezza in disguise.” We chatted for a while about his PhD. He told me about all the travelling he’d done,
the digs he’d headed. I watched the way he grew animated explaining a method of dating a specimen (yeah, about as dull as it sounds, by the way); how he began to gesture with those wide hands, how his eyes lit in the darkening cabin. Paleobiology is not sexy. Gabe, however....erm. He was on the way to making it tolerable.
The night crept in as we chatted, and before I knew it, I was beyond knackered so I excused myself to unpack. The bedroom was cozy with a queen-size bed crammed into a corner, a pine chest of drawers and whitewashed walls. The window overlooked the path we’d explored earlier, and below the moon that hung over the cliffs, an indigo tide drew in.
Tucked beneath gorgeously cold sheets, I closed my eyes and tried not to think of the way Gabe had rubbed the Aftersun into my skin. How strong and rhythmic his palms had been. I said a silent apology to Esmé—for our bickering these past few days, for deserting her for the concert, for finding myself having dodgy thoughts about somebody else—and let sleep drag me down into the world of strange dreams.
In the morning, I would definitely not fancy my uncle. That only happened to people in bad Internet fan fiction.

Chapter Two

There was a sinking weight on the edge of the bed and my body rolled toward it. “Morning.” I shot up in the unfamiliar bedroom and came face to face with Gabe. “I brought you some toast,” he said, grinning at my disoriented scowl. “Your Mum
said you like marmalade.” “What time is it?” God. I must have looked awful. He was fresh and clean, his hair
darker and damp from the shower. I could smell the soap coming off him in the warm air. “Half eight. I’ve got some errands to run, so I’m popping out for an hour. When I get
back, we’ll go out. Okay?” I sank back into the pillows; I’m not sure why it felt nice to lie down around him but
I liked the little peak of adrenaline it tugged from me. “Okay,” I managed. He was so tall that he filled the doorframe. “You’ll be needing that sunblock today.”
He threw a smile at me. “Let’s keep you pale and interesting, eh?” What the hell was that supposed to mean? I took my toast and fruit juice out into the living area when I heard him lock the
door. I switched on the TV and lounged on my belly; I loved being in Gabe’s company but the razor-sharp blasts of hormones exhausted me and the time to myself was a relief. When I’d licked the butter from my fingers, I threw on jeans and a little bandeau top, and set about making myself pretty.
In the mirror, my reflection cocked a silent eyebrow as I slicked on lip gloss. It was cherry flavored and sickly sweet; Esmé loved to kiss me when I wore it. Esmé was not within kissing distance today. When I studied the curves beneath my top, my nipples jutted shamelessly in their braless state. I crossed my arms, embarrassed, despite the fact that I was alone.
“Danni?” The door heaved open and the floorboards whined. Gabe was home. “In the bathroom.” “Don’t get dressed.” What?! “Um...” I stepped out, gesturing to my clothes. “Why?” He handed me a trendy paper bag and I peered inside at what appeared to be black
and pink Lycra. “I don’t do aerobics,” I said, my voice tinged with suspicion and disgust. He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a wetsuit. Want to learn how to surf?” Surfing lessons? Where had my cool not-uncle been all my life? The suit was a perfect fit, sucking at the lines of my body like thermal skin. I don’t
know what was more exciting; dragging a board down the little beach path, or watching
Gabe walk in front in his own suit. It outlined every movement of his strong shoulder blades and um...lower things. The sun was baking and if we didn’t reach shade soon, I feared I might crack under it like tightly packed mud. Split, snap, quake and I’d be pieces of Danni, strewn along the beach like driftwood, rising and falling on the edge of the tide’s tongue. (I knew it was bad when just thinking of words like rise and fall turned me on).
We left our shoes by the beach gate and darted between lumps of seaweed to the softly lapping tide.
I pouted in disappointment. “These waves...they’re hardly...” They were barely waves at all.
“That’s the point. You have to practice your balance before you can do any actual surfing.”
“It’s hard?” “It’s a skill to be learned.” He shielded his eyes. “You can swim, right?” “I can swim.” Not that I’d ever swum in the sea. “So how do we start?” He laid his board on the sand. “Come here, Danni.” He dropped and pointed in the
middle. “This is the midpoint of the board. Yeah? It’s where you need to stand when you pop up.”
“Pop up...?”
“Like this.” He lay next to the board on his belly and then quick as the breeze behind him, sprang back on to his feet with his arms wide. “See? This foot forward, that one behind. This is the trick of it, knowing how to pop up without coming up on your knees.”
It looked easy enough. I was wrong. The board bobbed from side to side in the sand as I stood on it. I leapt back off
before I tumbled. “Lie on the sand, you moron.” He laughed. “The board will balance in the water.” I gaped up at him. “Don’t call me a moron!” “Then don’t act like one. Go on, down you get.” I felt so self-conscious, flopping about like that, but I wanted to impress him. Show
him how fast I could learn. The ground was hard on my breasts and belly, and the water beneath the sand seeped
around like cool fingers. I wriggled, trying to position my feet the way he had so I could jump.
“It’s in the arms.” He knelt down and caught my gaze with those silvery eyes. “Just chuck yourself back up. Pull your knees into your stomach.”
I was not that fit, but I wasn’t giving in so easily, either.
I pushed up. Brought my knees in, surprised at how my legs felt almost weightless. Came up, up into the air--where was this balance I was supposed to gain again?--and threw out my arms, squealing at the inevitable topple sideways.
Except Gabe caught me, chuckling to himself as he steadied my pelvis from beside the board. I spent way too long enjoying the feel of his warm hands on my hips, and I swear he let them linger.
“Thanks,” I croaked.
“No worries. Bit of a shock?” “Yeah.” I gulped. “I think I need some more practice.” “We’ll go a few more times and then it’s out into the water—no point doing too
much on the sand.” On my fourth go, I managed to stand on my own and I threw a fist in the air,
cheering my own awesomeness. Gabe watched me with folded arms and a satisfied little smile.
“Come on then, Miss Warren. Into the water with you.” “Will you show me first?” He scooped his board up and shielded his eyes, watching the sun bounce off the
waves. “You stay here, okay?” Once he was knee-deep in water, he lay across the board and paddled with his arms.
He went quite far out and I panicked at how small his figure had become; then he seemed to mount the water, roving back toward the shore, and as the wave doubled and curved beneath the weight of him, he eased on to his feet like it was the most natural thing in the world. He leapt off as the peak dissipated in a fury of white froth and then he was paddling back, drenched and lovely.
“There you go.” He spread his arms when he’d hauled his board ashore. “Not so bad, huh?”
“Guess it’s my turn, then.” Crap.
“Come on.” He took my arm. “I’ll paddle out with you and we’ll find a little one together.”
The sea was cold around my feet, and bits of seaweed tickled, the sand creeping beneath my toes.
“What happens if I don’t pop up?” I said, suddenly terrified.
“Not much on a tiny wave.” He came behind me as we waded out, his hands spanning my hips again. “Here—I’ll steer you.”
Oh. Yes please. Wait—no. NO THANK YOU. “You look for the white water as it comes toward you.” His breath coated my ear as
the board bobbed in front of us, drowning out the breeze on the tide. “See the line coming in now? There’ll be a few more. Let’s get you up on the board and ready.”
He held it steady while I crawled up on it, supporting the backs of my thighs. I fell onto the board with a sharp slap on my belly, shocked at the way his hands stroked my wetsuited skin. Maybe I was too self-conscious about this stuff. It was normal for him. Danni. Get a grip!
“Okay—I want you to paddle out with your arms just by that rock, and then you’ll need to turn round on your board. When you’re a bit better at it, you’ll be able to turn the whole thing, like I did.”
I nodded, narrowly avoiding a mouthful of saltwater. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be.” “Don’t worry, Danni. It’s no big deal.”
Unless I drowned, of course.
I paddled timidly at first; I was a bit worried that I’d scoop up something nasty in the water. But then I realized I wouldn’t get very far unless I put a bit of force behind it, so... God. It hurt my arms, propelling myself like that.
When I reached the rock point, I spun awkwardly on my belly and bumped my chin on the bottom of the board.
“Danni? Hang on there a second—” Gabe was wading out toward me. Why...? Oh fuuuuuuuuck. I was moving, moving very very fast, and the sea was getting farther from my face.
Was that supposed to happen when I was still lying down?! “Pop up!” yelled a vaguely familiar voice, dulled by the swell of water around me. I
couldn’t quite remember what it meant. Then my stomach somersaulted into my throat and it seemed like a good idea to just hold on for dear life. White mist curved either side of me, raining down on my face, and I began to scream. Only my closed eyes doused the thud of my pulse in the darkness.
Then the bottom of the board skidded against something and I swiveled into about half a foot of water. When I bobbed up, coughing and wheezing, Gabe hauled the board out of the way and patted me firmly on the back. I panted over his shoulder, my forehead lulling against the bulk of him.
“You—you said the waves were just practice ones!” I spluttered, trying not to spit out the seawater. That couldn’t be attractive.
“They are.” He pressed me to the flat of his torso. “That one was just...for somebody with a bit more practice. Are you all right?”
I nodded wearily. “I think so.” “Congratulations on your first wipeout.” “Is it a wipeout if I didn’t even stand up?” “Erm.” He made long, soothing strokes over my back. “It’s debatable.” “I felt like I was going to die!” “Oh, shut up.” He laughed. “That wave was nothing! Just feels different when you’re
riding it instead of watching.” “Huh.”
I thought it must be the seam of his wetsuit at first, all rigid near my belly. Then it occurred to me that Gabe was getting kind of hard, and I wriggled back before the lump in my throat choked me.
“Want to go again?” He didn’t appear to have noticed. Maybe it was just what happened to men when they got cold, or something. Unlikely. But...
“In a minute. Let me get my breath back.” I peered back over the rush of the waves, all cerulean and undulating in the sun. “Just a minute...”
I did get back out again, eventually. I even managed to stand up for all of about ten seconds before careering back off the side of the board. It was gone lunch time when we got back to the cabin and despite the fact that my stomach growled and my limbs ached, I was desperate for some alone time and to douse myself in soap.
The shower spewed down, hot and frothy. I rubbed shampoo through my hair, buffed my skin with my exfoliating glove; there was this horrible urge to make an effort all of a
sudden and I shaved everywhere. Just in case. Just in case what? Help...I was a pervert. A cheating pervert. Stupid country air.
Stupid Gabe with his hard-on—I think it was a hard-on—all tight and solid against my stomach. It had no business being so noticeable.
I toweled off in the tiny bathroom and put on my outfit from earlier. When he’d scrubbed the sand and sea away in his own shower, we barbecued chicken wings and ate them with salad in the garden. I sprawled on the blanket with a book while he sat inside to get some paperwork done. I did absolutely zero reading; my brain would not shut up.
Gabe seemed to find all manner of excuses to touch me and I...well. I let him. I kept trying to tell myself that it was all good family fun, but even if that was the case, he kind of wasn’t family. Not in the familiar sense. Not in the blood sense, either. I knew one thing: if Gabe wasn’t my uncle in position—if nothing else—I’d be a lot more suspicious about the way he let his hands linger on me.
But he was my Mum’s stepbrother. And I had a girlfriend. Why was I wasting my time over this?
Even if I did like him, he’d never return my feelings. Not in a million years. I was reading way too much into a few hugs and nudges. Not that I liked him, of course. Not that I’d even entertain the idea of him doing something other than cooking with those big, smooth hands.
Where was I again?
***
That evening, we watched DVDs and I updated him on all the family news: my cousin Taylor getting into Oxford (pretentious twat, we both agreed); how Mum met Malcolm the Moron in a supermarket (clichéd, we both sniggered); Grandma’s new creative writing class where she’d been trying out some, er, racier stories (mutual cringe). By the end of the evening, we were sitting just a few inches apart on the sofa, nursing the dregs of soft drinks in battered old tumblers.
“You know,” he said, “I’m glad you’ve come down here. Nice to have your company. Even if you can’t surf to save your life.”
“I need more practice.” I blushed furiously, half at another compliment and then the mortification of my crap wave skills. “You said yourself...it takes time.”
“Want to try again tomorrow?”
“Erm. Could we do something else?” I was bruised enough already. Another morning of Gabe’s roving hands and I’d probably do something I regretted—it wouldn’t be a knee to his groin, like it ought to be. Esmé would’ve done it by now.
He grinned and nudged my shoulder. “Chickening out, are we?” “Yes.” I gulped. “It’s kind of late...d’you mind if I turn in?” “No worries.” He smiled faintly. “Bright and early again, yeah?” I pulled my poor, surf-abused body to standing and did a mock salute. “We’ll see.” In the little bathroom, I brushed my teeth to a froth and spent a while cleansing my
wave-scuffed face. The moisturizer was cool and soothing, and the girl who stared back in the mirror wasn’t quite as judgmental as she had been earlier that day. The sitting room
was quiet—no more TV buzz—so I felt safe slipping through. I was wrong.
The kitchen light was still on and it bathed the whole living area in a pale, milky glow. Gabe stood in just his shorts, stirring a coffee. He turned and nodded, smiling, and all I could look at was his chest: firm, lean streaks of muscle sucked by toned flesh. Holy crap...he was ripped.
“You okay, Danni?” “Fine,” I croaked. “Goodnight.” “Night, darling.” He watched me as I rushed into the bedroom, and on the back of my neck,
yesterday’s sunburn turned sore. I flicked the light off and climbed between laundry-fresh sheets. Lusciously cool. An
escape. I had to get away from this parallel dimension where I wanted a boy more than a girl.
Not even a boy—a man. It was like I’d been to France a hundred times and somebody just gave me tickets to Italy. Ciao, bella. Where the fuck was my passport?
My eyelids drifted and I made myself think of Esmé: her cute blond bob that took forty minutes to style every morning (ooh, how I teased her), the big dimple in her left cheek that flashed even when she didn’t smile. The Haribo float cocktails she made for me when I stayed over and the dizzy head I got from laughing too much when I was tipsy. The way her inner thighs tasted of cocoa butter if we made love after she’d showered.
Fingers walked to my nipples beneath my shortie satin pyjamas. I imagined they were Esmé’s nipples; bee-stung peaks the colour of autumn plums. Oh. The flat plain of my belly became hers, the curves, the hollow of my hip-bone. I stroked them the way she did. The way I did for her.
I glanced at the door before I ventured lower. Not that I thought Gabe would come in —I mean, he’d knock first, surely?—but his close proximity made me nervous. Jumpy.
Tight.
My shorts puddled on the wooden floor. I needed this. Wanted the pad of Esmé’s thumb to probe inside me...wanted her breath over me there. Needed the cradle of his tongue while his fingers crept to —
No, no, no. Not him. Her. Her!
I panted. My hips bucked under Gabe’s sheets; up and down, twist, up and down. When the shudders came, they were stealthy. I couldn’t stifle my yelp of surprise.
I’m not sure who I came for. Fuck you, Gabe. You ruined me.
“V oila.”

Chapter Three

Gabe dropped the plate in front of me and I stared down at waxy planets of yolks grazed over thickly buttered toast.
“That looks lush.” I almost drooled. “Thank you.”
“It’s nice to have someone to cook for.” He set down his own heap of eggs and I peered at him over my glass of orange juice.
“So...what’s the plan for today?”
“Mmph.” He swallowed, trying not to grin. “There’s a good hike I thought you’d like to try—leads to my favourite pub. We can have lunch and stuff.”
Normally, that would have sounded about as appealing as an afternoon with Mum. But in Gabe’s company?
“Sounds good. I don’t think I packed hiking stuff, though.” “Have you got trainers? They’ll do.” I nodded. “Well.” He reached for the ketchup. “So long as we remember the sunblock today, I
reckon you’ll be fine.” The sunshine was glorious again; it poured down from the clouds and into every pore
of me. I wore only denim cut-offs and a vest, but even the lining of my throat throbbed with heat as we set off along the top of the cliff. Gabe wore surfy wrap-around sunglasses and another pair of knee-skimming board shorts.
He started to point out plants in their Latin names as we walked. Polypodiaceae, acrostichum. The more I mocked him, the more he laughed and chose more outlandish words to pronounce.
“Is this how you entertain all your guests?” I asked.
“By boring them stupid with plant talk? Oh yeah. I beast them with it. Destroy them.”
“That your way of saying you don’t have guests?”
He chuckled. “Danni, I live right by the beach. Trust me, I get plenty of company. Half my mates study in the same field as me and they’re off traveling around the world; when they come back, they need a place to say. My sofa has seen some action, let me tell you.” He paused. “That came out wrong.”
I laughed. “I hope it’s wipe-clean.”
“So what about your friends? Only you haven’t mentioned any yet.” He chewed his lip. “Just Esmé.”
My defenses crept back up. “I have friends.” “That wasn’t what I meant. I’m sorry.” I stumbled briefly over a patch of rocks. “No, it’s okay. I met Es because we both
play hockey. The team...they’re my friends.” Which was true. Sort of. Esmé just didn’t
like hanging around them so much anymore since we got together. She liked us to be alone.
“You play hockey? Awesome.” “Only at school. And I’ve left now, so...not so much.” “There’ll be a team at your uni,” he said. “Yeah...Es probably won’t want me to join.” He chewed his lip again. “I see.” “She can be kind of...” Possessive? It felt wrong saying that, like I was implying
something bad. “Intense.” “Oh.” He smiled ruefully. “Been there.” Awkward silence. “Danni?” I wiped the sweat from my brow. It left my palm slick. “Whuh?” “Get a bloody move on. I’m starving here.” By the time we reached the Mermaid Inn, he was finding excuses to pinch my waist
and tickle the insides of my forearms. For every brush of his fingers, I bit down on the urge to giggle; the walk had loosened my surf-stiff limbs and I felt euphoric in the stretch of them. When we collapsed on a table outside the bar, I took great, heaving breaths of warm air and sun-soaked scenery. We were right on the edge of the cliff, and all that separated us from the beach below was a silver rail and a drop of thirty feet. Seagulls gathered on an empty table opposite and eyed me in that suspicious way birds have a habit of doing.
It was too hot for proper food. Instead, Gabe ordered us stodgy ice cream sundaes with velvety chocolate flakes and fluted wafers. They arrived at our table already melting in their glasses.
“I’ve never tried pear cider before.” I watched the ice swim in the pale gold liquid. “It’s yummy.”
“Don’t tell your mother.” “I can drink. Mr. Law says so.” “But your Mum doesn’t, and she’ll bitch kick me in the hairies.” I watched him lick strawberry ice cream from his spoon. Studied the way his tongue
lathed the flat of it. Oy vey. “Did you think any more on what we talked about?” he said. “Hmm?” “You know. About your Mum’s boyfriend, and cutting her a bit of slack.” I sipped the cider to cool my throat. “Yeah.” Liar! “I...um. I’ll try. I’m not sure how
good I’ll be at it, though.” “Does she wind you up?” “Like a jack in the box.” I prodded my wafer, now floating in a pool of melted
vanilla. “She always has to pick, pick, pick. Like every argument we have is a scab. She can’t let anything go and then I end up saying something stupid.”
“You’re eighteen. You’re going to say stupid things.” He nudged my hand gently. “Cut yourself a little slack too, Danni.”
“Why? I feel like she really hates me sometimes. I missed my favourite band’s gig
last night because she made me come here.” I stabbed at the wafer, resentment simmering in the gaps between my ribs. “It’s all right for you—you don’t live with her.”
“But I did. Once.” I poked my tongue out at him and he ducked his head, tittering. “Grow up, Danni.” “Do you ever wonder what it’d be like not to be a smug eco know-it-all?” I teased. He sat back, folded his arms. Eyed me with malicious curiosity. “Do you ever
wonder what it’d be like to be with a man?” I don’t know who went red first, but it was a close call. He knew it was inappropriate
before the words fell out of his mouth but there they were, hanging in mid air with dubious expressions. Er, dude, they said. Really?!
“I kissed a couple of boys,” I said feebly. “Esmé’s...special.”
“Special’s...special’s good.” He cleared his throat, looking away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
But he had. He kept doing it. And with that realization, a pair of raspy voices began an argument in my head:
He likes you, Danni. He likes you. Oh, come off it. He’s practically your uncle. That’d be just WRONG. Look now. Right now! He’s staring down your top! No, he isn’t. Even if he was, he’s too hot for you. If the sun looked at Gabe it would
get BLISTERS. He’s not Chuck Norris. And thank God for that. Who’d want to screw Chuck Norris? I think we got off topic. You’re right. Quick. Stare at his crotch!
“I’ll blame the cider if you will,” I managed to say, making a great effort to stare at the gorse bushes behind him and not his crotch.
“Let this be a lesson to you, madam.” He pointed at me with a mocking grin. “Don’t ever get me drunk.”
We were subdued on the walk home. Conversations kept rising like bubbles, only to burst on my tongue before I could blow them out. When we reached the cool, dark bough of forest that led back to the cabin, we peeled off our sunglasses and stopped to gulp from bottles of water.
“Shade,” I panted. “Thank God for that.”
“You’re looking a lot less crispy than you were yesterday.” He smiled. “Always a plus.”
“A spring chicken and a lobster. What a pair, huh.” I leant back against a tree trunk and closed my eyes, fanning myself. “It’s not supposed to get this hot in England. I’ve had cooler afternoons in Spain.”
“You know something awkward has happened when we’re talking about the weather.”
“Oh.” I glanced over. “Sorry.”
“It wasn’t you, Danni.”
He stepped forward. He was in my space, closer than he should be, undergrowth crunching beneath his hiking shoes. There was a gush of pear-scented breath over my neck before he raised his finger to blot a bead of sweat from my cheekbone. It dragged, hot and damp. Ah, ah.
I don’t know quite how it happened. That finger drew up to his mouth and he tasted, savored, blinked. When he opened his eyes, I stared right into them, and his pupils swelled inside their silver-gray skins until they brimmed against dark blond lashes. His lips fell from a great height and it just seemed like the thing to do, to catch them with my own...then he was easing my head back by my ponytail, deepening the kiss. He crushed me against him and he was so, so hard against my belly that I yelped on his tongue—his bold, curious tongue.
I was making out with my not-uncle. I was making out with my not-uncle. I jerked from his embrace. My chest heaved in desperation for air and for another
life, another place, a different time. To be somebody else. Anything. “That was all kinds of fucked.” I pressed my hand over my mouth as I leered up at
him. “Why...?” I didn’t stop to hear his answer. I tore off toward the cabin, almost skidding into
patches of nettles and foxgloved heaps of rocks. “Danni—!”
It wasn’t long before he caught up; the cider had loosened many things, but his agility wasn’t one of them. He stomped past me and opened the door, closed it as I entered...but I don’t think he expected me to disappear into the bedroom without as much as a cuss thrown in his direction.
“Danni.” I felt the other side of the door brace with his weight. “Open up, please. I can explain—”
“Explain what?” My eyes were wet, my pulse staccato. “That you’re a screwed up pervert? Well? Huh?”
He sighed. “You kissed me back.” “Nope, I didn’t.” Liar! “You did.” He drummed his fingers against the wall. “You’re not going to get me out with frickin’ Spooky McTapper.” I sniffed. A beat. He stopped drumming. Then he laughed incredulously—I could almost see the way those broad shoulders
would rove up and down. “I’m not trying. Please. Just open the door.” “Even if I did kiss you too...it doesn’t make it any less fucked.” Now he leaned back again and the wood groaned with the weight of him. “I know it’s weird. You...you don’t feel like my niece. And you’re not, not really.”
He paused, gulping. His voice was low and conspiratorial. “I know you feel the same way about me. I’ve noticed you looking. And then when you were looking...you stopped being this obnoxious little girl.”
I was so glad I couldn’t see him; this was mortifying. “Stop...stop grooming me!”
“You’re eighteen, for crying out loud.” It sounded a bit like he was convincing himself as much as me. “Look. I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to tell anyone. Nobody has to know about this, Danni.”
“Why would we want anyone to know?” I said, cautious.
“We wouldn’t. I’m just...pointing that out. That what we do here doesn’t matter like that.”
He wasn’t taking any of it back. This wasn’t his apology. It was another advance.
My head throbbed. Other bits of me throbbed. And before I knew it, my buttery fingers found their way to the door handle and they eased it open with a creak. Gabe stood, chest still heaving, just a few inches away. He looked frustrated and ashamed of himself...and, gah. So lush.
“Even if I wasn’t your niece,” I whispered, “I’d still be nearly half your age. And a bit tipsy.”
He gave a helpless shrug, a smile just teasing the edge of his mouth. “I think that’s kind of hot.” Then he plunged balled fists into his pockets as he stamped a foot. “Fuck. I’m going to the nastiest bit of hell, aren’t I?”
I twisted my hair in my hand, needing something to fill my palms desperately. Concentrate! “Even if I wasn’t young and drunk, I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Your list of excuses is getting annoying, y’know.” “They’re not excuses. They’re reasons.” “Well.” He swallowed heavily. “Now they’re reasons...you still buy them?” “Is it even still cheating if you’re a guy and she’s a girl, do you think?” I can’t
believe I said that. I was such a callous bitch. Not that logic had been welcome in my head lately for anything.
“Do you care? Honestly?” Gabe nudged the button fly of my shorts and I jumped as if he’d poked me with a skewer. “This isn’t going away. I tried. I really tried. And I kept looking for reasons that you wouldn’t be interested—they ended up just sounding like excuses. Danni, whatever we do, it stays here.”
Panic. Panic. My pulse thumped painfully in my ears and before he could reach for me again, I slammed the door in his face and twisted the catch on.
He groaned. “I’m sorry. I’ll call your Mum if you want her to pick you—” “No!” I shrieked. “I just...I need some time...” “Okay. Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me. When you need me.” When you need me. Oh God. It’s like he knows.
He does know.
I paced. Ruffled my hair. I waved my phone around like a moron as if it might magically catch some signal (why didn’t I text Esmé at the pub? Oh yes, that’s right—I was too busy lusting after Gabe). Nothing shook away the smell of the cider on his breath before he kissed me, or the penetrating sweetness of it as he kissed me—
I was exhausted.
In the end, I stripped off and climbed beneath a single sheet, hoping the dark of sleep would soothe me. It was only the afternoon; a nap wouldn’t hurt. It’d recharge my brain and I’d wake up with some common sense. Right?
Right...?
***
It was gone five when I woke up. The sky had turned to shreds of inky ribbon and I was covered in goose pimples from the cool air. I added a little cardigan to my outfit, taking the time to comb out my bed-head and brush my teeth before I emerged.
Gabe sat hunched on the sofa, elbows welded to his knees. Football buzzed quietly on the TV. He jumped up when he noticed me, rubbing his nose absently.
“I fell asleep,” I said. “I figured.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked me up and down. “Are you all right?” This appeared to be code for are you still bothered that I molested you earlier? Did it count as molesting if I’d have chopped off my pinky to do it again? I gave a slow nod. “Right. Well.” He gestured to the door. “I set a picnic up outside if you’re hungry.” “Have we got elderflower pressé and cucumber sandwiches?” He grinned. “No. Sorry to disappoint you.” I padded out behind him to the clearing. He’d laid the blanket out beneath the
stretched arms of a silver birch, and the shell-patterned cushions were piled neatly beside it.
I flopped down, cross-legged and already too warm again in the sun’s sticky grasp. Gabe landed beside me and reached for the bottle of 7Up.
“See?” He offered me a glass. “I’m being good. No more booze.” “Congratulations. What have we got to eat? I’m starving.” Sandwiches, cupcakes and chunks of fresh fruit were laid on gingham-print paper
plates. It was kind of romantic. And...adorable. “Paper plates aren’t very eco,” I teased, licking the icing from the top of a cupcake. “You caught me out.” He slapped his forehead. “Bad Gabe. I must be punished for
my sins.” The blanket rustled as he leaned to whisper. “It’s the washing up. I loathe nothing more. At least I’m saving the water though, eh?”
Before I began to sweat, I wriggled out of my cardigan. He watched every movement, his eyes hooked to the slow reveal of flesh.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said softly. I blushed. “Gabe—” “That’s the first time you’ve said my actual name, you know.” He shifted a little
closer so that our shoulders bumped. Silence swelled between us. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”
“Mmm?” “When I asked if you’d ever thought about being with a man.” “Oh.” Oh. “That.” He brushed the hair from his eyes. “Actually...ignore me. You don’t have to answer
that. I’m sorry.” “I’ve thought about it.” I chewed my lip; I couldn’t admit that I’d thought about him.
His mouth. His hands. His— “So...you’re a virgin,” he went on, “technically speaking.”
“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you.”
“Hey.” He rubbed his shoulder against mine. Pressed our arms together. “We can stop if you like.”
“And talk about the weather?”
“Yep. Or ferns. Badly named ghosts. All sorts.” He took a deep breath and pressed his palm against my bare thigh. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?”
“We’re both adults.” I stared at his hand and swallowed. “We can do whatever we like.”
My skin warmed beneath his; my stomach flipped and my blood burst to a fizzing rally of dominoes. I knew then that I was going to let him do whatever he wanted. Couldn’t see the sense in asking him to stop at all.
“I do want to kiss you, Gabe.” I tugged up a big handful of grass and squeezed it until my knuckles ached. “I want you to kiss me like you did in the woods. But I have Esmé and—”
“I’m not looking to be the love of your life, you know. The way things are, it wouldn’t be right.” Now he stroked along my cheek, just as he’d done earlier. “My point is, we’re attracted to each another. It’s getting hard to ignore, isn’t it? But nobody gets hurt if nobody knows about it.”
“I suppose.” Except us.
But it wasn’t like that. We’d known each other barely a few days. It took longer than that to hurt someone; it took longer than that for the truth to get a slap in.
I hoped.
“If you’re still not sure,” he said hoarsely, “you tell me right now and I’ll go back inside.”
“I don’t mean to—” “I won’t be angry. But I can’t promise to sit here and behave myself.” “I’m the teenager.” I managed a smile. “I’m meant to be the one with no will power.
You said it, right? The one who does stupid—where are you going?” He’d sprung back up, jogged towards the cabin. I hadn’t even given him an answer and he’d already made his decision. Gone back in. I sat for a second with my arms wrapped defensively around my knees, the silence of the clearing weighing heavy in my
ears. I hadn’t even given him an answer. Then he reappeared in the doorway, kicking off his shoes before he walked back
toward me. I wanted him to smile, to make that filthy chuckle--anything that would indicate I hadn’t somehow pissed him off--but his features were almost vacant. Vague smile, pupils fat, his bottom lip bitten; I’d never seen him like that before.
Then he bent to drop a pack of condoms beside the plate of cupcakes, and my heart spluttered in my chest. I blinked furiously, glancing between his strange expression and the packet. “Um—”
I fell back beneath the bulk of him. Crack, quake, split—I was just pieces of Danni. He pinned my hands above my head, we seeped into cool blades of turf, and he captured my bottom lip between his teeth. Released it slowly.
“I’m going to tell you a secret,” he murmured, the edge of his tongue against my ear. “We never really grow out of the teenage stupids.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear his next words. “And that’s what I am?” “No. No. Danni...you’re the least stupid thing I’ve done in a long time.” Gabe kissed me with the force one puts behind a knife to slice an apple, and I came
apart in his hands, all sweetness and seed and flesh crushed in the melee. His hips settled above mine, my thighs splayed for him, and it already felt like we had no clothes on. I shocked myself with the speed of my desire and though I recognized it from making love with Esmé, this was a whole new world of want.
“Danni,” he breathed. “I want...I want to be your first. Your first man.” The pulse at my throat sprung. What was happening to me? “Y-yes please.” He sucked at that same pulse point and I yelped loudly. “Nobody’s going to catch us, are they?” “Here?” He nuzzled along my jaw line and then looked me in the eye. “No, baby.
We’re all alone.” “So...we can take our clothes off?” He laughed as he kissed me. “I plan on it.” He swept the food off the blanket with one arm and cradled me in the other. That
chest came into view as he peeled his top off and he glowed in the melty evening sun. He was still on his knees as I stroked the cut muscles, marveling at the firmness of the sinew beneath. I’d never been this intimate with somebody who didn’t have breasts.
“You like?” “I do.” I leaned forward to graze my teeth over his nipple. “You’re so...different...” Impatient as somebody half his age, he pawed me while I undressed. Groaned his
approval. My breasts were barely free when he wrapped his arms around me, and then my fly came apart in his fingers, my shorts eased off.
I lay beneath my not-uncle in nothing but my knickers. Help. Not that I wanted to stop, but just...help.
He pressed his mouth over my breasts, gasping as I knotted my hands in his messed- up hair. His tongue was rougher than Esmé’s, his will tougher, and his body stronger still. I suddenly felt less like the girl who’d arrived, and a lot more like a young woman helpless under a very clever man. It was meant to be frightening, this feeling that my lover was stronger than me. It should have conjured memories from the self-defense class I took in Year Nine, made my fingers clench to fists and my knee raise towards his groin, but this was not like that. I’d barely known him days; who was this Danni and where had she come from?
I helped him out of his remaining clothes, tweaking the zip on his shorts while he snapped the elastic of his boxers down. I felt something land heavily against my hipbone —hot and smooth—and then he guided my hands down.
“Here.” He showed me how to stroke him in slow, firm rounds.
He couldn’t be as big as he felt, surely. Holy hell. What was I meant to do with that, throw a party on it?
“You’re not going to fit,” I spluttered.
“Don’t be a cliché, Danni.” He grinned though. Like a guy doesn’t want to hear that line. “I promise, it will be fine. I promise.”
I’d need a local anesthetic first. Esmé was right—cocks were ever so slightly
terrifying. Gabe toyed with the hemline of my knickers. “Baby,” he whispered, “does your
girlfriend make you come?” “Yeah.” The word disappeared into the hollows of his throat as I kissed him. “You...
um...want to hear about that?” “Yeah. And no.” He trailed a fingertip over my clit. “With her mouth?” “Y...yeah.” “God.” He took a deep breath and probed beneath the fabric. “Right here? Is this
where she licks you?” “Y—ow.”
He found my clit again and shook his finger against it gently. “Mmm...right there. Yes, baby?”
I moaned in response, before jerking my hips up so I could wriggle out of my underwear. I’d had enough of the playing. I just wanted to come, however he wanted to make me do it.
Judging by the way my knickers were stuck to me, I’d already made good progress in that area.
Gabe nudged my legs apart again and filled his eyes with the view. “You’re open for me,” he said. “Can you feel that? Ready for me, almost...” “Almost.” I panted. “Please...” He leaned forward, teased the hood of my clit up and breathed over it. I bucked into
the empty air. “Easy.” He smiled, squeezing my breasts and running his palms down to my inner
thighs. “Lie back, okay?” His eyes were foggy with delight as he drifted down to taste me. Ah, ah. I kept
blinking through the sunshine, trying to remember where I was: outside. Under a tree. Near the cabin. A long way from home and everyone who could tell us how wrong this was.
I was sighing my pleasure now, rubbing Gabe’s head and pushing myself up to meet his tongue. His fingers teased and I mewed in frustration.
“So tell me.” He mumbled into my skin and the hum of it was delectable. “What have you had...inside?”
“Ah...her finger...her tongue...” “No toys?” “I...no...” “And now...” He eased his finger in and my muscles sucked him down. “Now my
finger, too. Oh...you’re tight.” He kissed my clit, lathing the hood with his tongue-tip. “I changed my mind. I like the clichés. This is going to be beyond delicious.”
The way he slid that thick finger in and out of me, twisting up to graze my swollen spot...God. “Is...is this what it will feel like?”
He noticed the way I stiffened. “Don’t worry, okay? We’re good.” Another kiss, this one on the very inside of my goosepimpled thigh. “I kinda think you’ll like it.”
I did like it. The way he talked dirty to me, grunted at the taste of me, how he was more calm and controlled than eager; if I could have puddled about his feet in adoration,
I’d be half-seeped into the grass by now. And I cared about nothing else. For minutes, something grew deep inside me in jerky snaps, conducted by the rhythm of his tongue. It peaked beneath my clit over and over before he caught on to it
and pulled...pulled... I had to bite back the words I normally moaned to Esmé at this point: please, baby.
Love you, love you – Ohmygod.
It was different. Longer, harder in his mouth. As I calmed, he lingered over the swell of me and licked all the way down to my inner thighs.
Above, the branches of silver birch swayed like velvety eyelashes, and they span in the mess of oxygen I sucked from the air.
“Danni?” Gabe crept over me, planting soft kisses along my cheeks. “Mmm...?” I wrapped my legs around him and stroked the backs of my calves along
his buttocks. “Yeah?” “You okay?”
“You could say that.” I cleared my throat. “What’s your professional opinion?”
He laughed, and I smothered the sound with a kiss. He tasted like me but different. I’d never tasted a girl on a boy before.
“Do you still want me here?” His cock nudged at my clit, then lower. It felt heavy and round.
“Go slow.” “I will.” He stroked damp hair from my face. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” I never fell out of the ‘born gay’ mold. I grew up thinking I’d have a Prince
Charming and a horse and carriage, and I always imagined my first time would be with a boy. If the ones I liked hadn’t fucked around as much as they did, maybe it would have been, but then I met Esmé at hockey club and it was natural—obvious—to fall for her. She was my first love and first lover, even if she did get on my nerves lately. Even if I followed her lead in love rather than fell upon my own waves to surf.
Right?
Whether or not there would ever be a man...just stopped being a topic of consideration.
Ha.
Gabe pressed kisses along my temple as he entered me. I was surprised at how easy it felt at first. Then suddenly, he was huge and an ache permeated, my muscles trying to force him back out.
“Relax.” He ducked to brush his lips against mine. “Do you want me to stop?”
“It hurts,” I said feebly. He was heavy atop me and though the warmth of him was luxurious in rapidly cooling air, it was stifling too.
“Just a little longer, baby. Just—” His hand trailed down to caress my bare hip. Gently, he manipulated me upward while he slid an embroidered cushion beneath my buttocks. “That’s it.”
I pressed myself into the cushion and my moans into his shoulder, embarrassed of the little girl sounds. His hips met mine. The ache shot down as it followed the trespass of
him and I was tautly, tightly full of his flesh, afraid to move. I doused his neck in the hot breath of relief. “Is...are you...?”
“Yeah. Mmm.” He rocked very slowly. “Is that okay?”
“I think so.” I shifted under him with an experimental roll of the hips. Everything below my clit throbbed dully, and above, as the bud was bumped back and forth...oh. Oh.
“Look, Danni,” he murmured, tucking my chin against my chest. He rose and I saw...us. Together. “You feel amazing. Do you know that?”
“It looks amazing.” He eased back inside me and there it was—eeesh—the sharp ache. “Gabe. I think I might actually be a lesbian.”
His laugh was warm in my ear, like maple syrup over pancakes. Then he rolled his hips in that yummy way again.
“I call bullshit on that one.” “I—” “Shh. Miss Warren. Be quiet and let me fuck you.” I did what he asked. I bit his throat as he gained pace from our lazy tempo, the ache
falling away with each renewed thrust. Before I knew it, I was bucking up to envelope him before he filled me, and my soft curses were now whimpers of pleasure like the ones I made for Esmé. Even the insides of my thighs were wet.
“See,” he panted, “I told you; don’t you like it?” “I think...think I’m going to...” He took my hair in fists and groaned into it, delighted that I was finally open enough
for him to let go. And when he did...so did I. Somewhere in the middle of him pounding me into the grass, I came in great,
heaving shudders that racked my entire body. The orgasm spewed from places untouched before his taking of me and sensations that were new, overpowering. Delicious. He tried to kiss me during the first spasm and I near enough bit his bottom lip off. When I slowed, he broke inside me.
“Baby, I’m coming...”
The words were rasped in my ear. I stroked my nails along his back, arched into him; I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do, but my limbs were soaked in the mellow relief of a thick climax and moving was a lot more effort than usual.
Then we were still; a heap of mashed flesh beneath the shade of the birch tree, quivering and sweating in the swirl of warm and cool.
Well, we truly sucked at resisting each other. Temptation: one. Gabe and Danni: a sticky, heaving nil.
“Gabe,” I croaked. “I can’t breathe.” “Oh. Sorry, sorry...” He slid to one side. I followed, empty and desperate to press up against him. “Danni. Thank you.” I thumbed the red swell of my bite mark that surrounded his bottom lip, and he
winced. “For the boner, or the GBH?” He chuckled into my mouth. “All of it, but especially that last part just now.” “I’m sorry I bit you. I just, I didn’t realize—”
“It’s okay. It’ll go down.” He kissed me lazily, his palms molding my breasts. “It was worth every second.”
all.”
“Huh.” I couldn’t help the grin that stretched my face. “Maybe I’m not a lesbian after
“There’s such thing as being bi, you know.” “No shit, Sherlock.” “Mind your mouth.” “Best mind yours. I’ve already done some damage.” I wound my arms around his
shoulders. “I’ve never come like that before, you know.” “I’ve got plenty of new things to show you—surfing not included.” I hooked a leg over his and pressed myself on his thigh, riding him the same way I
did Esmé. The aftershocks were saccharine and punctuated by sighs. “What are you doing, you little madam?” I smiled up at him through my messy hair. “Just...mmm. You have nice thighs.” “I gathered.” He laughed. “Stop it...you’ll get me hard again.” “That’s a bad thing?” I pouted. “You’ll be sore. Trust me.” “Oh, I see. When did you last get ploughed in the girl parts, exactly...?” “Well. This one time, at fern-poking camp—” “Stop trying to distract me from your very fine thighs.” “Did I...I mean, I was good, right?” I stared at him. “Did you not notice?” “Well...yeah, but you never quite know.” “You were amazing.” I plant a kiss on his upper lip. “It was like you knew exactly
what I wanted. You never did that annoying teasing thing. Just made me do...stuff.” “Stuff.” He chuckled. “Well. I’m glad it was awesome. There’s nothing worse than lying there after sex and being all, ra ra, I am Lord of the Man-Or, and she’s all, yeah,
you keep thinking that, you epic waste of cock.” I laughed so hard, he had to hold me still. He was right about being sore, too. It hit not long after we staggered back to the
cabin, and as we curled up beneath the blanket in front of bad Saturday night television, my whole pelvis cramped. But now that I’d worn his skin, it seemed logical to stay wrapped in it, and we kissed and fumbled as we finished our battered picnic.
He followed me into the bedroom and warmed the covers while I brushed my teeth. I went drowsy with his fingers teasing the dip of my spine and massaging my buttocks, erasing the tension caused by our enthusiastic fuck.
“You’re a little bit lost, aren’t you, Danni?” He sighed into my neck. I melted back against him, his body forming mine. “I’m glad you found me.” There was a pause as he twisted in caught sheets. Then his breath settled on my ear,
his voice a lush edge of a whisper. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

Chapter Four

Morning broke into the bedroom like an unwelcome visitor, lingering behind the curtains as its golden fingers groped for the lock. Gabe’s stubbled chin prickled against my shoulder, and his palm spanned the flat of my belly in an uncharacteristic act of possession.
“What time is it?” I mumbled.
He didn’t answer; just kissed my throat and pushed his hard-on between my buttocks.
“Gabe? You awake...?” “Mmph.” The time on my phone was seven-forty a.m.. It was still early. I went to close my
eyes and then the twinge in my girl-parts reminded me... Oh God.
I fucked my not-uncle.
The naked not-uncle who was currently pressing his hard-on into me and we both smelled like turf and sweat and...sex.
Gabe was snoring lightly again, and I teased his hands off before I crept through to the shower. I needed heat and steam to clear my head, had to wash off what happened yesterday before the memory took root and started fucking with my brain. In the little cubicle, I turned the temperature up despite the morning sun and pressed my forehead against the cool tiles.
I’d cheated on Esmé. I’d slept with a member of my family. Self-loathing hissed in my ear like the static on a broken iPod; was this some sort of absent-daddy issue? Did I have to be a cliché as well as a perv and a coward?
Mum was due to pick me up in just over twenty-four hours, which was a very long time in Danni World to resist Gabe’s advances. That was the worst part of all, if I’m honest—that I still didn’t want to resist him. The thought of him sleepy and aroused in bed made me want to creep back in, still damp and warm, and wake him up foxy bitch style. His caramel bed-head made it ten times as tempting to knot my fingers against his scalp for kiss after sucking kiss, and his shoulders were made for clinging to, surely.
But it was just sex. He’d said so himself; he could never be the love of my life. When I left tomorrow, Esmé didn’t have to know a thing.
Not that isolation made the truth any less of a knife wound. Not that spending the next few hours with a very naked Gabe would balm it, either. I’d feel guilty— guiltier— if I let this carry on.
What was I going to do, jeopardize my relationship with Esmé even more for the sake of a few more lays? Even if I never had to see Gabe again, that was a scummy idea.
I had to hold out. Had to. Gabe was already in the kitchen as I walked through in my towel, and I could smell
fat heating in all its salty glory. “Morning, gorgeous.” He grinned at me. “Bacon sandwich sound okay?” “Please.” I dived back into the bedroom before he could walk over, and patted
myself down. Took my time combing my hair out and slipped into a strapless blue sundress. Brushed my teeth. When I finally emerged, the sandwich waited on the coffee table amid the shells, and Gabe was wiping the crumbs from his mouth.
He stood to catch me around the waist and bit along my earlobe. “I like the dress. It’s cute.”
“Thanks.” I pushed his hands away, stiffening. God...I didn’t want him to stop. This sucked big ones. “Gabe...”
He stepped away from me. “I thought you might be a little prickly this morning.” “I’m not prickly,” I grumbled, sitting down. “I’ve just...I’ve been thinking.” “Sounds dangerous.” He sank down and picked up his coffee. “I don’t want to do wrong by Esmé.” I grabbed my plate and pushed my knuckles
into the soft white bread. “It’s bad enough already.” “I see.”
I?”
“Yesterday was, well, amazing...but today, can we just be normal? Please?” He folded thick forearms against another surfy T-shirt. “I can’t really complain, can
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Danni. I shouldn’t have come on to you the way I did.” He chewed his lip awkwardly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I nudged his bare calf with mine. “Makes two of us, then.” “No. This is on me.” He stared at his hands. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage.” “Don’t be stupid. Like you said—just sex, right?” Like adults. Silence. Right...? “I’ve got to drive out to the farm shop,” he said eventually. “Fancy joining me?” I nodded through a mouthful of very good bacon. The floorboards creaked as he
stood. “Let me grab a shower, and we’ll get going.” Half an hour later, I was strapped into the passenger seat of Gabe’s mucky Range
Rover while Radio Five commentators chatted in the background. As soon as I got some signal, I loaded Facebook on my phone and flicked straight to Esmé’s page.
Missing my pixie girl read her status. My stomach flipped—not in the good way. I’ll call u in 20 xxx I typed beneath it, praying there’d still be signal at the farm shop.
Gabe was evidently friendly with the young girl on the till desk, and I left him chatting rubbish with her while I sidled off to make the call. Esmé answered in gasping breaths.
“Hold on, chick. I’m out running. Let me get to the end of the road.”
I listened to her breath slow—not an unfamiliar sound, heh—and counted the thumps as she pounded the pavement.
“So,” she said, “how’s it going?” “It’s not too bad,” I lied. “Did you see Dexter’s Noose last night?”
“I took Carla. Not like that, before you say anything. Just needed someone to go with.”
Carla was in her Biology class and was the designated sixth form lesbian. She was on to me and Esmé before anybody else.
“I forgive you,” I said dryly. “Were they good? Tell me they were crap to make me feel better.”
“What? Sacrilege! You know I can’t say that about Mattman and his merry band of rock gods.”
“Bitch.” I giggled. “Miss me then?”
Her voice dropped to a coy whisper. “You know I do. Tomorrow night, my parents are out until nine.”
“Oh. Mmm.” I bit my lip. “Listen, baby, I have to go. We’re out at some farm shop in the middle of God-knows and I need to locate some choc before I combust. I’ll text you when I’m on the way home, okay?”
“Okay.” She sighed. “You better. Love you, pixie.” “Love you too.” The words were all dry and I coughed when I hung up. Back in the shop, Gabe had already loaded the basket with bread, cheese and apples.
I nudged the four-pack of pear cider with an arched eyebrow. “You’re not getting me all drunk and relaxed again.” He grinned. “It’s for me. You don’t have to drink it unless you want to.” There’s a lot I don’t have to do unless I bloody want to, but that’s not the problem! “Can we get dark chocolate?” I said. “In need of a fix?” “Something like that.” “It’s by the till.” He nodded back toward the freckled girl he’d been chatting with.
“Knock yourself out.” They had a surprisingly good selection: Divine Fair Trade, Green and Black’s. Some
local stuff dappled with walnuts and dried cranberries which looked especially yummy. I held the bar up at the check-out girl. “Excuse me. D’you know if this is organic?” She squinted at it. “Not that one, I think. The Green and Black’s is, though.” She
smiled shyly, nudging the bar in my hands. “I didn’t know Gabe had a girlfriend.” “Oh.” I froze. What had he told her? Was she just assuming? Crap. “We’re, um...” “Have you chosen?” Gabe came up behind me in the nick of time. “Get a couple if
you like.” “One’s fine.” I tossed a bar of butterscotch into the basket and ducked my gaze away
from the girl’s. I don’t know what was worse—that I wanted to say he was my boyfriend, or that she seemed to think he was when he was my not-uncle. Shit.
Then Gabe stroked the small of my back absent-mindedly as he paid, and I didn’t push him off. I just went slowly beetroot as my thoughts drifted away from my girlfriend, away from the law...and to the boy parts that had driven me to distraction just twelve hours earlier.
I drummed my fingers on the dashboard of the car. “Gabe?” “Hmm?” He put his sunglasses back on and started the ignition. “Did you tell the shopkeeper I was your girlfriend?”
A beat. He swallowed. “I said you were with me.” “What do you mean?” “She asked if you were with me, and I said yes. I wasn’t sure what she meant, but
then...I wasn’t sure what I meant, either.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s hope you never go in with your mother, eh?”
“But why didn’t you just say that I’m your niece?”
He swallowed again, eyeing me in the mirror. “Because you’re not just my niece, are you?”
“I thought we were keeping it secret.” My palms began to sweat; he was staking claim on me in public. This was crazy talk. “Whatever I am...it’s only until tomorrow.”
That filthy grin twitched at his lips. “I thought you wanted us to be normal?” “I...” Argh! He was incorrigible. “I hate you,” I muttered. We drove home in silence. He didn’t even put the radio back on. I loitered in the car
as he took the bags in, and when I refused to come out, he left the keys on top of the Range Rover with a shrug and an unintentionally sexy pout.
I folded my arms against the dash and banged my head on them. One, you’re a perverted bitch, Danni Warren. Two, you’re a cheating cretin. Three, you have no self-control. You should be ashamed of yourself. Four, five, six...what the fuck are you going to do?
Well. There was one thing.
I snuck back into the cabin with slumped shoulders. Gabe was in either the bathroom or the bedroom; either way, it was enough time to take a pear cider from the fridge and crack off the top. It was still lukewarm as it hit my throat, but the sugar and the fizz were delicious and it didn’t take long to neck the whole thing. I got a bit lost in the act of swallowing without dribbling and when a pair of strong hands touched my hips from behind, I nearly dropped the bottle.
Gabe rubbed up along my ribcage until he was cupping my breast. His fingers teased gently. “Do you hate me now?” he said.
I didn’t answer.
He lifted my ponytail and blew along the path of my neck, warming the air-cooled trail with his tongue. “Now? Now, do you hate me?”
I put the empty bottle on the counter but I still couldn’t speak. I never wanted him to stop touching me.
Gabe turned me and stroked the hair from my face. His kiss was soft at first—he had a pale bruise where I’d bitten him—but I soon let him deepen it, whimpering into his mouth.
“What about now?” he whispered.
“I don’t hate you. I just...I...” Another kiss. He licked the cider from the lithe little tendon under my tongue. “I hate that we’re wrong.”
“I know. I know.” “My Mum would butcher you. She’d—” “I don’t care, Danni.” “You should.” I snorted. “She’s vicious.”
“She’s also not here.” “Huh.” I cocked my head. “This is true.” He nuzzled into my neck. “She’s not at the beach, either.” “We’re taking a little walk...?” He patted my bottom. “We’re taking a walk.” I’d barely reached for my shoes when he came up behind me and pawed beneath my
dress. He found my knicker hem and pulled on it, stroking me as he eased them down. “I want you without these,” he said mischievously. I blushed as I buckled my sandals; half from the alcohol and then, well...I’d never
gone commando before. I wasn’t wearing a bra either, but I always guessed from all the vitriolic comments from middle-aged comediennes that I should make the most of getting away with it.
“I won’t ask why.”
“I’ll bet you can guess, though.” He spanked me lightly as I got to my feet. “After you, gorgeous.”
We walked down to the beach with knotted fingers, enjoying the cloying heat of the afternoon. Gabe held my skirt down when the breeze threatened to expose me and he brought my knuckles up for kisses every few moments, as if he couldn’t get his fill of them.
I felt naughty enough the first time I held hands in public with Esmé; this was something else.
We left our shoes by the rotten old beach gate and Gabe led me to a rocky corner set into the shade of the cliff. The rocks there were large with flat, smooth surfaces; perfect for sitting on. I kissed him passionately when he scooped me into his lap.
“Somebody will see us,” I said, glancing about at the little stretch of sand. “If they’re walking on the ledge over there—”
“Baby.” He tucked my skirt down. “They won’t know. And do you care...?”
I shifted against the bulge that nudged between my thighs so enthusiastically. God, no...I really didn’t. Not anymore.
“I feel like I’m in one of those daytime soaps,” I confessed.
“Illicit trysts by the ocean,” he mumbled into my collarbone. “Oh no, we shouldn’t! We mustn’t!”
“We can’t!” I giggled. “This forbidden lo—lust shit is TV crack, isn’t it?” I tried so hard not to pause at his slip. Failed miserably. So I sat back and stroked the
wind-ruffled hair from his face. “Yeah. I’m starting to get that now.” His hand crept up along the inside of my thigh, higher and higher until he plucked waves of pleasure in my pelvis like notes on a harp. Shameless, I closed my eyes, took deep lungfuls of sea air and basked in the sunshine that spilled across my shoulders, all the while rocking myself harder into his palm. I liked this position, this in-the-lap-of-a- gorgeous-man thing. If I wasn’t about to come apart on his fingers, I’d have swished my
arm in the air like a cowgirl and said something smug and embarrassing. Like a boss! “You,” he said over the breeze, “are so wonderfully inappropriate.” Oh, Jesus H. Christ. Tell me I didn’t say that out loud.
“Don’t look so terrified.” He grinned.
Then I felt the stretch of his second finger, all damp and warm from my sticky skin, and forgot about everything. Everything. All I wanted was the feel of him inside me properly, to have him take me like he did the previous night.
“Don’t rush.” His voice was muffled by the crash of the tide. “Don’t want you to be sore.”
“I...I won’t.” I wanted to savor every second; in a few hours, I’d never be able to have him again.
My muscles complained at his intrusion. It seemed I was still at least half a virgin (how the hell was that possible?) because while his entry was quicker than the first, it still stung in the same sharp way. I lowered myself slowly, wincing, and then— oh. There it was.
“Good girl.” He clutched my skirt to the cheeks of my ass. “That’s it.”
How was this gorgeous fullness so familiar already? I’d only had him once before, but that orgasm already echoed as if it lingered solely to be awakened by Gabe. Clever boy.
I sucked a welt at the base of his neck. “There’s nobody up there, is there?” I was facing the cliff; he had the view out.
“No. We’re all alone.” His teeth grazed my jaw. “Do that harder for me...ah.”
The sour salt of the sea filled my nostrils, and he was welcome sweetness in his proximity—his heat, his sweat, the static friction of my sundress against his T-shirt and the pain-pleasure chafe of my bare thighs on his cord shorts. He pressed the heel of his hand up now and I crushed my clit on it as I fell down faster. Harder. Faster.
“Gabe...Gabriel...I...” I whimpered into his kiss. “Make me come.”
His silver-gray eyes flashed at the challenge. The fist that held my skirt in the breeze stroked up to squeeze my hip, and he undulated into me, forcing his last inch. I bit his earlobe to keep from moaning too loud, but the moment would come soon when I’d break and he’d bruise. Again.
I should have cared that he had me half naked in public, but I was so close and he felt so good. The shop girl’s words kept echoed over and over—I didn’t know Gabe had a girlfriend—and the sweet throb of the alcohol had turned dull at my temples.
“Danni?” I yelped against his neck. It was all I could manage. “Danni, I need to—don’t—ah.” It may be that he said things after that; I just didn’t hear him. I rode into spasm after
spasm, never tiring of pleasing myself; judging by the loud curses, he was peaking too. He finished with his face pushed into my breasts and my fingers drawing patterns in his hair.
“I like nasty hell,” he mumbled, exhausted. “It’s...bouncy.” “My thighs are killing me.” “Serves you right for being so greedy.” He grinned through our kiss. “Want me to
carry you home? I’ll throw you over my shoulder.” “Mmm...I wouldn’t say no.” He did try. We got half way up the beach path before he got tired of my shrieking
laugher and plonked me back on the floor, muttering about excitable teenagers. I loved that he was strong enough to haul me about like that, though; I felt safe in this visceral, primal way.
We showered off the sand together in his tiny bathroom. There was barely space to move in the cubicle but we worked up a lather in the squash of limbs. I stroked coconut shower gel over his pecs and watched the bubbles drop down to coat each streak of muscle.
The barbecue was set up for dinner and we chargrilled a steak big enough for about four people. Gabe showed me how to cook it by demonstrating how it should feel on the different parts of my hand, and it ended with him biting at my fingers, kissing his way up my arm. There in the garden, turning the coals beneath the grill and wrapped in my gorgeous man, I was starting to see what he meant about the sun. About being connected.
About getting everything you needed from one warm, shining source.
The sky put on a show of feathered clouds that evening and we lingered beneath it, laid out on the blanket and sipping from glasses of pear cider and ice. I felt teeny under the great expanse of blue.
“Don’t you get lonely here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Occasionally, yeah. But I have a lot of friends visiting, especially when it’s hot, and I go to the Mermaid for a few drinks most evenings.”
“So there’s no girlfriend...?” I watched his face for any flicker of a lie. “No girlfriend, Danni.” I breathed a sigh of relief I wasn’t entitled to. “A boyfriend?” I teased. “No, no boyfriend.” He cleared his throat. “I like my own space, as you can probably
tell.” “Didn’t really get that impression on the beach just now.” I rolled over and brushed
the hair from his big eyes. “You fuck me like you’re starved, you know.” “I am starved. Of you.” “Oh.” The blush seared my cheeks. “I...I don’t want to go home tomorrow.” “I wish you could stay longer too, baby, but I...it’s probably for the best.” He
offered me his arm and I nestled into the crook of it. “It feels safe to play like this here, but it isn’t. Not really.”
“Not safe, or we’re not really playing?” He sighed. “Both.” The admission dragged through the air, rushed into my skin. Marched up to my brain
and pounded the door in a temper: IDIOTS. “There’s this song I like,” I said, “by Dexter’s Noose. It’s about how the most
beautiful things sometimes only last a day...but they die just as painfully as something with a much longer lifespan.”
“Woah.” He frowned. “That’s pretty deep.” “Seems fitting.” “Maybe.” He was quiet for a moment. “This is out of our hands. We just—we can’t
last longer than a few days.” “Our little secret, then,” I murmured. “Can’t be anything else.” He toyed with my ponytail. “I’d love to have you again
sometime this summer, though, if you like.” “Really?”
He bent to kiss me, his tongue cool from the ice of his cider. “Really.”
“I’d like that.” I licked the bruise on his bottom lip. “What am I going to do about Esmé?”
He tipped my chin up and studied my eyes. “Don’t do something stupid on my account, okay? We can’t be together like that.” Another sigh, from somewhere heavy in his chest. “Not even if we want to.”
“The want part, though,” I said forlornly. “That’s the problem.” “We should set some rules. Make it easy on ourselves.” “Like what?” “Well...I’m pretty hard to get a hold of down here, anyway. Maybe we shouldn’t
talk unless it’s serious. I’ll give you my number in case you have any more issues with your Mum...you’ll have to promise not to use it otherwise.” He outlined a nipple through my dress. “Does that sound fair?”
“Sucky, but fair.” I wanted to cry, actually, but I couldn’t bear for him to see it. Felt stupid for it, too. “Do you want mine?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” He squeezed me. “Come on. Let’s get in before it goes too chilly. You’re off tomorrow. I want an early night.”
“Oh?” I smiled up at him.
“To bed with you, Miss Warren. I have plans. Intricate, filthy plans involving root vegetables and a cattle prod. Possibly a goat.”
We made love twice before sleep held us rigid against each other, and when the citrus sunrise poured through the curtains, he was already kissing my neck.

Chapter Five

Monday mornings were always crap, but this one excelled itself in shittery.
Still sore from Gabe’s midnight...erm...feast, I packed away my clothes and toiletries, my suitcase closing with a squeak of the zip. He’d made pancakes but I was too jittery to stomach them, and I paced about the cabin instead, checking the time on my phone every few minutes.
“Anyone would think you were wishing away our last hour,” he complained.
“What if she just looks at us, and she sees?” I shuddered with panic. “Mums are good at that sort of thing.”
“Danni.” He took me in his arms and pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m like your uncle. She thinks you’re gay. It doesn’t get much safer than that, theoretically speaking. She’s not going to take one look at you and ask you how much cock you’ve had this weekend.”
“Good job too.” I smirked into his kiss. “I guess you really sorted me out, huh?” “You do seem to have lost the attitude.” “I hope so.” “I hope not, and then she’ll send you back for longer.”
“Thought you—ahem—liked your own space?” I asked, playfully.
“You make my space a whole lot prettier.” He nuzzled at me. “And you stop me saying whiny things about the sun.”
We’d agreed to have our last kiss before we left the cabin. We had to wait for Mum at the bottom of the track, and if she arrived when we least expected it...didn’t bear thinking about. So for ten minutes, we laid wrapped up in each other on the sofa, our mouths and hands generous. No sex—God, not that I didn’t want it—but we couldn’t afford to get carried away. It lent our kisses and touches a new sensuality. I wanted to put my memories of him in easy-to-reach boxes: smell—like salt and shower gel. Taste— pancakes and lemon. Sight—muscled and tanned and lovely. Sound—pure verbal filth. And touch...like a roving orgasm beneath my fingers. I didn’t want this to end.
But it was time for the walk down to meet Mum.
The weather had cooled enough for me to slip on a jacket, and the wind tickled my loose hair. We only waited by the road for about five minutes but having to stand away from him, it felt like hours.
“I’ll miss you,” I said softly. I wanted to touch him with words, if nothing else.
“I’ll miss you too, baby. You know that.” He had those wrap-around sunglasses on and I could see my drawn face in them.
“You’ll call Mum to arrange another weekend?”
“Give me a few weeks, and I promise you’ll have your date.” He elbowed me gently. “Tonight’s going to be pretty dull in comparison.”
“Not every day you get to screw on the beach, huh.” I smiled despite myself.
“I’ll have to make do with the pub quiz. It’s not quite as sexy, but our team does get shafted fairly often.”
“Ha bloody ha.”
He shoved hands into his pockets, shook his head. “What are you up to tonight then, eh?”
I sighed. “I’m meant to be going to Esmé’s.” I pulled my dress strap back up; it kept sloping down my shoulder. Even my clothes knew it was ridiculous to not be naked around Gabe. “Her parents are out for the night.”
“Oh. I see.” He paused as a car swerved past. “She’s a very lucky girl.” Was she...? “Thank you.” Mum’s Nissan pulled around the corner and as Gabe waved to her, a huge lump
stuck in my throat. I was really leaving, and I wouldn’t even hear from him for weeks. I was going back to Esmé, back to Mum’s house and her stupid boyfriend. Everything in my life now would be second best because I was falli—
Mum swung her legs out of the car and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. She approached slowly, her arms folded against her crochet top.
“So...good weekend, Danielle?” I nodded. “All right, I suppose.” “We’ve had a good chat, haven’t we?” said Gabe. “Yeah.” I ducked before Mum could catch my eye; I knew what Gabe said was
logical, but that narrowed gaze of hers permeated in all kinds of creepy ways. “What about you, Mum?”
She seemed taken aback that I’d asked. “Well...yes, actually. Lovely weather.” She’d been boning Malcolm the Moron. I knew it. Not that I could talk. Not that I would walk so well, actually, after the previous night.
“Shall we get your suitcase into the car then?” said Gabe.
I watched him haul it into the back; noticed the shoulder blades gliding under his T- shirt and remembered how firm they’d been beneath my palms. I might never get to feel them again.
Oh God. “Thanks for this, Gabe,” said Mum. “I appreciate it.” He shook her hand with a flat smile. “No trouble. She’s welcome back any time.” Mum cocked an eyebrow and the panic flooded in; then Gabe nudged me with
skyward eyes and I realized she wasn’t suspicious—she was jealous. I’d found the rapport she’d never had with her brother, the one she never expected either of us to build.
“I’ll be seeing you then, Danni,” he said. “Yeah. Thanks...thanks for having me.” We didn’t hug. We’d talked about it; just didn’t seem proper in front of Mum.
Instead we shook hands in a brief, firm manner as if we’d just hashed out a shady business deal. I guess we kind of had.
As we pulled away in the car, I watched him slump in the mirror. He grew smaller and smaller until we twisted round the corner and were back on the road. I felt like I’d
left behind my eyeballs. “There are snacks in the bag by your feet,” said Mum. “Feel free to put the radio on.” Really?! Maybe this long weekend apart had been good for both of us. And maybe I
could cut her a bit of slack...or at least try. My appetite was still in Gabe’s bed, but I helped myself to a bottle of water.
“Cheers.” “No problem. Nice to have to you back.” Well. If she was in a good mood... “Mum?” “Yep?” “Do you remember the name of Gabe’s band?” She tutted for a second, then snorted with derision. “Heck, Danni. What’s he been
telling you?” “I just want to know what they were called.” She made a show of calming herself. “Turnip Jesus.” We laughed together for the first time in months. I’d been silently mouthing the words to songs on the radio for about an hour when I
realized I’d have a phone signal. Three messages from Esmé had accumulated in my inbox: one was from the night before, and said just love you pixie. Sweet dreams xx. The others were from this morning, and the water threatened its return in my throat as I read: so excited about tonight. Got a surprise for you. And then: ok, you twisted my arm! It’s lacy. Know you love lace xx
I bashed in the best response I could muster and then stared at Gabe’s number on my phone, as if the digits were some sort of secret code. Had I really spent the past forty- eight hours making love with my not-uncle? The notion already seemed blurred and fuzzy (although that could have been the hangover from the pear cider).
I’d been looking forward to the drive back to Bristol because it signaled a return to cupboards stocked with junk food, the Internet. My own room. Now the whole idea was empty and flat, and the thought of facing Esmé that night made me queasy.
Back at home, I tore open my suitcase to find that Gabe had tucked my uneaten bar of butterscotch chocolate in with my bras and knickers. Couldn’t help smiling. And then in with the shoes was the last bottle of pear cider, with a note scrawled along the bottom of the label in biro ink: what cider webs we weave xxx
Damn him and his poetic punnisms. Was punnism even a word?
I couldn’t—wouldn’t—throw the bottle away. If I hid it, it might look suspicious (even Mum wouldn’t baulk at me having just one drink in my room); if I left it out then somebody might ask what the hell that pretty little line meant. Drunk spiders?
Yeah, I sucked at lying. Which was rather bad preparation for seeing Esmé.
In the end, I pushed the bottle to the back of the drawer on my bedside dresser. I know it was wrong, but it was kind of cock-shaped. And hey, I couldn’t fuck anything worse than my uncle, huh?
I had a late lunch and took care of my laundry. Then I hopped to the laptop to check my emails.
I had the usual: Viagra spam. Discount vouchers (as if anything was going to make
me shop at the Gap). There was a website update for some YouTube stuff I liked about gay werewolves. When I logged into Facebook, Esmé popped up immediately on chat.
Esmé: OMG! They just left. You have to get over here!! Me: now? Thought not til seven? Esmé: They went early! Come on, pixie. I got your surprise, remember? Me: Will have to c if Mum can give me a lift early. Esmé: ok, ok. Just don’t be too long. Might get started by myself otherwise ;) I smiled faintly. Me: aww, baby...u waited for me? Esmé: you know I don’t like doing that without you. Me: no wonder ur so desperate, lol.
A light blinked on my bed and then my phone began to ring. Oh God...Esmé could be a little smothering at times. Why had I never noticed it before?
And then I noticed the number flashing on the screen. It was Gabe’s.
Esmé: I’m desperate when it comes to you
I shouldn’t answer it. We’d agreed. I knew I hadn’t left anything at the cabin because I’d unpacked everything I went with. Why was he doing this to me?
Esmé: so you there? My finger hovered over the green button. He’d call off in a second, if I could just
hang on...ah...but that voice must sound so lovely over the phone... Esmé: pixie? You there? Esmé: Danni? Esmé: so I guess you got your lift Gonna go get ready!! Esmé: ...
Esmé: ok, so where the frick are you? Why’s your phone engaged? Don’t tell me you’re back off to Devon again?
Esmé: Hey!! I hid in the corner of my bedroom, my heart simmering against my ribs like a ball of
acid. I’d been on the phone so long that it was hot in my palm. Esmé: I’m getting pissed now. Esmé: Danni ;(
“I know,” I murmured into the phone. The tears that pricked my eyes were made of glass, and as they fell, they were just like everything else was about to be: smashed, broken. A lot prettier in the sunlight. Kinder to people who like pain.
“I shouldn’t have played it so cold,” he whispered. “I don’t think this is where we end, Danni. Is it?”
I took a last glance at the laptop and closed the lid with a slow hand. “No.” My voice cracked. “It isn’t.”

PART TWO

“Tiny bodies, their cries never reach human ears
But they feel like we feel before they disappear And my longing for her was a thing carved in dreams She said, have you ever heard a butterfly scream?”
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
Dexter’s Noose

“We write letters,” he said. “Phoning like this is too tempting. Text is overkill. Email’s just plain dangerous. Danni, I don’t know how we’re going to work this out but until we do...I’ll write you letters.”
“What, like paper letters? Real ones?” “Real ones. One every week.” “Aren’t they, like...not very eco?” “That’s true.” He paused. “But we have to be so careful. Letters, they aren’t as
instant as everything else. They’re eco for desire.”

***
10th July 2012

Danni,
So here it is. The first letter. I’ll be surprised if you can read my handwriting. I don’t write any better than I dance.
I thought it would be easier than this. Truth is I have fuck all to report...we only talked on the phone on Tues. Do you mind if I use bullet points? I like ‘em. There’s something very manly and fuss-free about bullet points.
1. I have a friend, Jared, coming to stay this week. He’s just back from Hawaii and he’s got plant samples I’m way too excited about. Rock, and indeed, roll. We’ll probably drink a lot of beer and write terrible theories about spores. You sure this turns you on? Really?
2. Totally slaughtered at pub quiz yesterday. As you would say: epic fail.
3. There are two inches of 7Up left in the bottle, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out because they’re your inches. Which sounds kind of wrong, but there you go, madam.
4. I miss you. I EPICALLY miss you. You and your pretty sundresses and your mocking little comments like you’re actually cleverer than me.
5. A bit of me thinks that you are. Your Gabe xxx

10th July 2012

Dear Gabe,

Congratulations. This is like the third letter I’ve written in my entire life. Unless emails count, that is. Anyway, yeah. Congrats. You are seventy six per cent more awesome for receiving this.
I feel like I have to write something very interesting and funny. In fact this is my fourth go, and it’s just the intro. (Also, sorry for Hello Kitty notepaper. I don’t have anything else unless you think writing on kitchen towels is especially cool).
So I’ve had a weird week. I missed that meet up with Esmé because of being on the phone with you, and she went mad at me. Sulked for three straight days. Is it awful I was kind of relieved? But then she randomly decided to forgive me if I came up with a good excuse, so I did because...well. How could I not? (I said my cousin Taylor had an emergency and I had to counsel him on girl stuff). Yeah. I feel weird about it. It’s not the same as being with you. I need to figure out how to tell her it’s over, that I don’t feel the way I should, but she’ll get so pissed and she’s kinda scary.
I know you can’t tell me what to do about that. Just...I don’t really have anyone else to tell. I never really thought about it and now I realize how much she’s encouraged me to freeze our friends out. Which sucks. You and me are friends, right? Before everything else.
Not that I don’t want everything else. I want it more than those two last inches of 7Up (just writing that makes me thirsty).
I filled in some uni paperwork for my accommodation. That’s pretty cool. I’ll find out where I’ll be living soon. Might join that hockey team.
I miss you too. More than epically. I don’t know what that is, but it would be huge. Huger than your ham rod. I know you’re doing that smug smirk thing now you read that, you tard. (I am totally on the pill, by the way. As opposed to just slightly on it, before you say).
We’re going out for cocktails now with some girls from my year. Mostly I’ll just wish I had pear cider instead.
Your Danni xxxx
P.S. Bullet points are kind of lame, but since you’re a bajillion miles away, I can’t really stop you. Just remember that when you write your next poxy ten-line letter :P

14th July 2012

My Danni,
Apologies for sending you another poxy letter, and without even waiting a week. Since I don’t quite measure up to your (HELLO, Kitty) letter-writing standards, I’ve decided to pretend to be some sort of perfect robot boyfriend for the rest of this one. Okay, darling? HAPPY? :P (What does that little P thing even mean?)
I strolled along the cliffs this morrow in the balmy midday sun, and I thought of our encounters out on the grass, on the rocks. The sweet and delicate music of your pleasure returned to my ears and I began to hum a symphony inspired by your cries of passion. I scared five seagulls when I got to the good bit. Fucking hell, I’m crap at this. Can I stop already?
Ham rod? I’m borrowing that for our pub quiz team. We’ll be the Amazing Adventures of Gabe’s Ham Rod for the rest of the summer.
Speaking of which...I’ve been thinking. About our weekend. I didn’t really think enough when you were here but I have to say this because it’s been playing on my mind. Even though you denied it at the time--I didn’t take advantage of you, did I? I know you’re a lot younger. I should have considered that. I should have used my fucking brain. If you feel like I did something wrong there, I’m sorry. I never meant it to be like that and now it’s bothering me. Jared left this morning and maybe it’s just strange being alone again...I dunno.
No bullet points this time, see? I’m one of those rare men who actually listens. (Or reads, as the case may be).
I’ve spent the past few nights in nasty hell without you, mostly wishing I was in nasty hell WITH you. I still have that 7Up. I’ll call your Mum soon and sort something out for in a few weeks, okay? I want you back here so badly, but we can’t look too eager. I miss owning moments with you. I don’t own them on my own; they’re just there.
Your Gabe xxx P.S. No seagulls were injured in the making of this letter.

18th July August 2012

Dear perfect robot boyfriend,
I have to hand it to you—that wasn’t bad. I was even a teeny bit impressed. In return, I sprayed the big Kitty on the back of this paper with my perfume so you can sniff it and moon over me. That’s what perfect robot boyfriends do.
Summer kind of sucks without you. All the sunshine—which, yep, has finally reached Bristol!—just reminds me of your cabin and surfing and... Well. Stuff. Stuff we did (you totally want me for my sexy talk).
Cocktails were good. I didn’t have pear cider, but I do get the bottle you gave me out a lot and just kind of look at what you wrote on it. “What cider webs we weave.” I love you like a drunk spider loves its half-assed web, Gabe. That’s what you meant, right? :P
Esmé’s still...around. I promise I’ll get up the guts to dump her this weekend. Really. I have it all planned because going to uni’s a great excuse. No, it’s not even an excuse. It’s a reason. I know you like those ;) But I’ve been avoiding being with her like, you know, that, so you don’t have to worry. I’m yours, always yours.
And don’t even start talking about crap like taking advantage of me. I wanted you. I still want you. Our situation blows but we’ll figure it out. I hate the idea of you feeling bad about it.
Mum keeps asking about what we got up to. I told her what you said about cutting her some slack (which I’m doing) and she got all quiet and a bit tearful. I think she was actually impressed. Score. Also, we’re going to the family holiday thing in Wales in September before I leave for uni. I know you don’t normally go but maybe this time it could be different?
I have to get to work now (need to earn cider money) but I can’t wait for your next letter. Maybe we could do a phone call soon too. I miss your voice so badly.
Kisses,
Your Danni xxxxxx
P.S. :P means you’re sticking your tongue out. Sometimes it’s cheeky and sometimes it’s just plain dirty.
P.P.S. Hand-writing emoticons makes me cringe. P.P.P.S. So am I actually your girlfriend?

22nd July 2012

Dear Gabe,
So I know it hasn’t been a whole week, but I suppose I just really miss you and I wanted to write again. Are you doing much this weekend? I’m working loads (which means avoiding Esmé. Which is good) and I’ve offered to cook for Mum and Malcolm the Moron, just to show how nice I am. See how much slack I’ve cut? (Why does that sound so wrong the other way around?)
Anyway. I hope you’re not scaring too many seagulls (or other forms of wildlife). Not much else to tell you, but pretty sure I’ve used up my brackets allowance for at least four and a half days.
Actually, I got my welcome pack for uni. AWESOME. All I have to do is wait for my exam results. I have lots of questions to ask someone who knows lots about uni. Maybe if you came to Wales, I could ask you there. It’s not the same doing it by letter. A lot of things aren’t the same.
I miss you, like always. I miss owning moments and breaths and heartbeats with you. Your Danni xxxxxxxx
27th July 2012
August 1th 2012
Danni,
I’m sorry. I just can’t. We can’t.
Gabe

Dear Gabe,
Can’t what? What do you mean?
Please tell me you’re not giving up on this. I know I haven’t sorted things with Esmé yet but I will, I’ll have time soon.
Just reply and tell me you’re okay?
If I did something wrong, I’m really sorry, I just...well I can’t stop crying now. And this just reads like a massive guilt trip doesn’t it so what’s the fucking point
Please don’t leave me

August 3rd 2012

16th August 2012

Gabe??? You okay? Please answer your phone
x

PART THREE

September 15th 2012

“No, I won’t die, I won’t go peaceably
You can’t tear off my wings because you want a piece of me I won’t end, I won’t break, I won’t fall I won’t melt out of life just because you don’t call My aching for you was a thing carved in dreams But I died on the night I heard that butterfly scream...”
Butterfly Scream
Dexter’s Noose

Chapter Six

Rain is so much prettier in the summer.
As we drove, fat drops splattered against the car windows. The sun shot through their glossy skins and threw coloured lights inside—like riding in a kaleidoscope. Good job it was this pretty, too; in order to tolerate another hour in the car with Mum, I needed the distraction.
“Danni?” Esmé traced the seam along the inner leg of my jeans. “You’re quiet. It’s weird.”
“Just tired, baby.” It wasn’t weird. I’d been quiet with her a lot lately, but couldn’t bear to tell her why.
“I’m sure she’s just conserving her energy for the good times ahead.” Mum nodded at us in the car mirror as she drove. “Ready to let loose on holibobs, girls?”
Holibobs. Ugh. Esmé winced at me, and I rolled my eyes. “Mum. Seriously.” “Don’t pretend you’d rather be at home. I heard the pair of you giggling while you
packed your bikinis,” she huffed. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed she didn’t hear what happened right after Esmé
tried on the purple stripy one with the string ties, because I swear we tried to stay quiet. I just needed that stuff lately. It helped me to forget.
Esmé squeezed my hand and shot me an impish smile.
Two months on from that surreal weekend in Devon, and it was still easier to screw my girlfriend than just tell her the truth.
But no matter now. We were off on holiday—my family’s annual gathering on Anglesey in Wales—and after that, Esmé and I would separate to start our respective university courses. She was off to Portsmouth, me to Bath. I had it all planned: we’d grow apart. Our phone calls and emails would dwindle, and our relationship would feather at the edges. It might take a cruel word or two to tug the thread, but that would be easier when I didn’t have to look into her big, beautiful blue eyes while I said them.
Because...yeah. I was Danni the coward. The cheating cow. There was no support group for any of those things, and saying them out loud didn’t make me feel any better. All I wanted to do now was tolerate a week with my family in those stupid eco lodges, and pray the wooden walls didn’t remind me too much of a little cabin in Devon where I’d spent three intense, desperate nights with someone I could never really have.
I did try to have him, but he panicked and slipped away. ***
“This is our first bedroom, like, together.” Esmé dumped her rucksack on a double bed with cheerful yellow sheets, and sank into the mattress. “That’s kind of cool, right?”
I glanced around at our timber walls, pine furniture, and at the huge window where the distant view of the Snowdonia Mountains spilled in. “It’s awesome.”
“I mean, it’s not what I’d pick for us,” she went on. “We’d totally have velvet. And lace. Like in Moulin Rouge.”
“This is more like Ikea boudoir.”
“But I kinda don’t care.” She tugged me down beside her on the crappy mattress, and her blond bob cupped her chin as she leaned over me. “Cause I’m here with you.”
“My mum’s in the next room, remember.” “Still don’t care.” No matter how I felt about her, I couldn’t deny that Esmé was a tantalising kisser. It
was half the reason I’d fallen for her in the first place. Her lips were so soft and her tongue so delicate that I melted right into her mouth every time. This kiss was no exception, and before I even thought about it, I wrapped one arm around her neck and rubbed her back with my free hand.
“Love you, pixie,” she breathed.
“Love you too.” I did. Kind of. Maybe. God, it was just so complicated. Esmé still turned me on, and I still longed for her company. I missed her when she got tied up at her job at the supermarket. But since that weekend two months ago, I’d realised she wasn’t The One...and it all stopped being good enough. Now she just thought I was constantly stressed or tired, and I knew she hoped we’d make up for it on this holiday.
Maybe we would. Stranger things had happened, right?
“So.” She pulled back to stroke the dark hair from my face. “What’s the plan of action? We checking out the beach, or what?”
“Yeah, can do. We usually all meet at this pub down the road, so we could do beach and then pub for tea.”
Esmé’s nipple stood stiff beneath her T-shirt, and I pushed my thumb against it gently. She had gorgeous breasts—small, tipped with dark pink buds. Sensitive. When I petted them like this, she went all quiet and breathy.
“Well?” I giggled, nudging her. “Hello?”
“Yeah. Whatever, pixie.” She pulled me in for another warm kiss. “I can’t wait to meet your family. Finally.”
“Oh yeah.” I looked down. “That.” “They do know you’re a lesbian, right?” I was never bi to Esmé. Always a lesbian. Huh. But my family knew, all right. Only one of them knew otherwise, but family
gatherings had never been his thing. Fortunately. Or unfortunately. For a brief second, I imagined him shaking hands with Esmé, and the three of us making awkward small talk as if nothing had ever happened and I’d never had him inside me. Crap. Crap. No, definitely fortunate that he was all black sheep-esque and wouldn’t be there. What could I say? I had a thing for blonds...
“Course they know. You moose.” I finished teasing her nipple, and kissed along her collarbone instead. “Although we don’t have to go anywhere. We could just stay here...”
“Danni!” She swatted my kisses away. “We’ve got all night for that. All week. Mmm.” She gave my bottom lip a little tug. “I want to do it on the beach.”
I’d already done it on the beach, but she could never know that. “Yeah. Um. Awesome.” “In the dark, maybe. With all the stars twinkling, and the sound of the tide and stuff.
So romantic.” She sighed wistfully. “I’m so glad your mum let you bring me.” “Mum is very supportive of our girl-love. I think she feels all feminist and PC because of it.” And she did support us, in her own way (although I’d hardly dreaded telling her I had a girlfriend; she was just glad I wasn’t pregnant, or on drugs, or
convinced I was a sparkly vampire or something). If only she knew the truth, eh? (Ominous fade out). “Cool. Shall we get going, then?” “I don’t want to get off this bed,” I complained. “It’s too comfy, and now I’m all
frisky. You can’t let me go out like this, Es. I’ll hump a tree.” “Danni. Ew.”
Ten minutes later, we’d swapped our trainers for flip flops, and were headed down the stony path to the beach. The breeze tempered the heat, whipped our hair against our cheeks, and our palms stuck together as we held hands.
The four cabins my family hired each year sat on the outskirts of a wood just outside Rhosneigr, a seaside village on the coast of the Welsh island. It was fifteen minutes’ walk to the pubs and shops, ten minutes to the beach itself, and less than five to the shade of the marshy forest. Not exactly Marbella or New York, but it was good to get away from our crummy little house in Bristol...especially since Mum and Malcolm the Moron broke up. It was very sudden (or seemed that way) and she’d been moping around the house for the last week, smoking and listening to Phil Collins. I swear, she needed this holiday far more than me.
“Woah.” As we emerged from the woodlands and on to the pebbled beach, Esmé shielded her eyes with a hand and stared out over the expanse of foamy ocean. She was about to study oceanography at uni, and I knew the sea was kind of her sacred place. “I could stand here all day, you know.”
“Well how’s about you stand downwind, and I wait here so I can watch your skirt blow up?”
“You get more perverted every frickin’ second.” She rolled her eyes, although a smile crinkled their edges. “I promise you can look up my skirt later, okay?”
“I suppose I’ll cope.” How did this work, exactly? Esmé felt like my best friend; I still wanted to do very bad things to her. Yet I’d feel nothing but relief once we were over and I was free to chase a replacement...him. It wasn’t that she was a girl, no, nothing to do with that. But I wanted things now that only he could give me, and maybe someone a similar shape could do the same?
Esmé grabbed my hand again. “Wanna collect some shells?” “What, like we’re seven?” “Yeah. Like we’re seven. Then we can make daisy chains, and drink Orangina at the
pub just because it’s in the grown-up bottles.” I snorted. “It’s in the textured sex toy bottles.” “Will you get your brain out of the gutter for a minute and come help me?” But I’d done something dirty with a bottle more times than I should admit. It was
still sealed, full of pear cider, and on the corner of the label, a scrawling hand had written
what cider webs we weave xxx
We didn’t weave anything at all anymore. We were blunt and lost and our web hung in torn strands.
“Danni!” Esmé waved from across the beach, her flip flops dangling from her free hand as the tide swept around her bare feet. The sun spilled in a yellow glow to frame her, and she was like a toffee apple in that moment, all yummy shades of gold and light brown. I’d break her heart in a few weeks...stupid, ungrateful Danni. I deserved everything I got.
“Yeah?” I called. “Come look over here! I found a crab.” A crab. Riveting. “One sec, baby. I’m coming.” The sand was still wet from the afternoon rain shower, and I had to pull off my own
flip flops in case I sank in. It swamped up between my toes as I squelched over to her. “Reporting for the crustacean ecstasy tour.” I did a little mock salute. “Oh. You’re such a meanie.” Half an hour later, the sun sank further toward the cupped hands of the clouds and
we had enough shells to fill our pockets. We decided to drop them back off at the lodge before strolling down to the pub, where we’d meet my grandparents, great uncle, aunt and cousin. Somewhere between Esmé’s elation at finding a crab and me mashing her against a rock for wet kisses, I relaxed a bit. Maybe it was the salt-sweet stench of the ocean and its warm water taste in my mouth, or the hot air on my skin, or the tide song. Or laughing with Esmé for the first time in weeks. I don’t know...something in me cracked and crawled back inside its shell. Left me lighter.
Until we emerged from the stone path and saw the car in front of our lodge.
Parked next to Mum’s waste-of-space Nissan was a muddy black Range Rover. I squeezed Esmé’s hand so hard, I nearly cut the circulation off.
“Jeez, Danni!” She yanked it away, shaking the blood back in. “You know I don’t like all that rough stuff.”
“I...that’s not what I meant.” His car. His car. HIS CAR with a stripy surfboard on the roof rack. Half of me wanted to bolt back down and throw myself into the sea, and the other half...crap. I couldn’t even bring myself to say it, but it probably belonged in a dirty story--the one where the stupid girl got her heart ripped out and stuffed back down her throat, but she was too busy sucking something else to notice.
“You okay, pixie?”
“Course I am,” I lied. With every step, we got closer to my big black hole of want and regret, and she didn’t have a clue. Not that I wanted her to, of course—if anyone found out, it would be the end for me in so many ways.
“So come on then. Help me get these shells back before they fossilise.”
I followed Esmé back up the creaking timber stairs and on to the veranda. She fumbled with her key for a second before realising the door was open, and before we even entered, I heard his laugh. It was so frickin’ deep and silly, and...oh God. I was falling all over again, the taste of his mouth surging in my mine.
“Hey.” Mum smiled from behind the kitchen counter as we filed in. “You girls been
down to the beach? How’s it looking?” “Gorgeous.” Esmé held up a flat shell with a rainbow sheen. “We got bounty, too.” “Bounty, huh?” He folded his thick, tanned arms, his legs parted as he leaned back
on the stool. He wore the same three quarter length shorts, the same surfy T-shirt in sun- bleached colours. His shaggy caramel hair was just a teensy bit longer and he’d tucked it behind his ears. Silver eyes widened at the sight of me, and he didn’t even glance down to hide it—I know mine did the same. Every bit of me ached.
“Esmé,” I croaked, “this is my Uncle Gabe.”

Chapter Seven

You have to understand that we never meant for it to happen.
We knew it was stupid. We knew it was wrong. What with me, just eighteen and eleven years younger than him; I was meant to be all head-over-heels in love with Esmé, but one look at him and my hot guydar bust a fuse. Kind of shameful, when you think about it. And he might have been estranged, but he was still part of my family, one way or another.
In fact he was estranged to me again as of August 1st, when he went from delicious, forbidden and adorable to a heap of magic bastard pudding. I gave him my virginity and all he gave me were two beautiful letters...before he literally cut me in half. In just weeks, he’d begun to feel like my future but to him, I was just a break from reality, a fantasy come alive for three wet, swollen days. I felt so used.
These men, they split you into pieces and fill you with their sticky stuff, but they don’t tell you it’s really SHITTY if you try to use it as glue.
I certainly never thought Gabe would be sitting there in our holiday lodge...but there he was in all his buff, heart-breaking glory. For some reason.
WHAT REASON? “Danni?” Mum put her coffee cup down, frowning. “Are you all right?” “I...I’m g-good.” “That pleased to see me?” Gabe raised his eyebrows and attempted a smile. Badly
feigned sarcasm was so not his strong point. “I didn’t think you came to these sorts of things,” I managed to say. “I don’t. But I figured it was time to make good with everybody. Especially since...” Since he made more than good with me? “...I’m moving away,” he finished. Oh. “Where are you moving to?” asked Esmé, all perky and interested. Gabe looked down. Bad sign. “Canada.” “He’s got some big shot grant at a college over there,” Mum announced. She looked
almost proud. I couldn’t stop blinking. “You’re moving to Canada?” Like, eleventy billion miles
away Canada? Why would anyone do that? Look at the evidence: Celine Dion. Moose (half deer, half donkey. Plain stupid).
“That’s right,” he said. “But—but Canada sucks!” Gabe gave an apologetic shrug. “I have to go where the research takes me. It’s part
of my job.” Esmé wandered over to the freshly-stocked fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange
juice. “What do you research?”
“Palaeobiology. It’s the—”
“OhmyGod!” Her face lit up; flushed cheeks, flashing white teeth. “I know about that. It’ll be part of my course. Do you lecture?”
“I do indeed.” He put his hand out to her. “You’re Esmé, right? Danni told me all about you.”
I watched my girlfriend and my ex-lover shake hands and chit-chat, and numbness spread through my limbs. All this pretence, Gabe’s casual fakery, this entire scenario—it was like a body drained of blood. Pale. Lifeless. Just like the first time I met grown-up him, a sparky ball of hate burned inside, but this time it was for a different reason: betrayal. Because Canada was exactly that.
I was meant to be on holiday in Wales—not the Twilight Zone. “Danni?” Esmé ran cool fingers along my arm. “You ready to head up to the pub?” “I s’pose, yeah. Just need to change my shoes.” I shot Gabe a glance. I just wanted
acknowledgement, a nod, anything...but he sat so still that he blurred in my vision. ***
After that, I thought sitting opposite Gabe in the pub would be painful. Wrong. It was excruciating. I’m not talking like, popping a big spot or stubbing your toe. I’m talking trying to
make conversation with your grandma about school and your job and the books you last read, and trying to be all polite and happy when all the while her stepson entertains the rest of the table with his surfing stories and all you can think about is OHMYGODIHADSEXWITHHIM. And then, oh shit...he abandoned me.
Let me remind you, too, that I could not look at Gabe without seeing him naked, no matter how cool and clever his T-shirts were. Which was all his bloody fault; he made the first move. I might have been all hot for him, but I’d never been as brazen and fearless as when he leaned in to kiss me that first time.
There would never be another first time, or last time, or anything in between. As I sat there trying to be happy girlfriend Danni, the thought silently slaughtered me. So I sank further into my beat-up seat, taking refuge in the chattering fuzz of locals and holidaymakers, and the clatter and pop of glass bottles at the bar. I watched groups of teenage boys eye the bar maid, slapping each other on the back with sly winks; the couples who leaned in to hear soft words over the shouts of rowdier customers; I closed my eyes and breathed in the thick smell of frying chips and beer.
“Danni?”
I glanced up at Taylor, my preppy, Oxford-bound cousin, who performed the impressive feat of adjusting his glasses and smoothing his short hair at the same time. “Mmm?”
“You look how I feel,” he said. “What, bored and awkward?” He blushed. “Well...yeah, I s’pose. But I meant on edge.” I rolled a bat mat between my fingers. “What have you got to be on edge about?”
“Um. Well.” It was quick—I’d have missed it with a blink—but his watery eyes darted toward Esmé, who sat chatting to Gabe. “I dunno. Just hate family holidays.”
And he fancied my girlfriend, the jammy cock. “You can’t possibly hate them more than me.” “No, I do. Mum made me leave my laptop at home and everything.” At that moment, Esmé plonked herself back next to me on the bench and Taylor
lowered his eyes. “I like your uncle,” Esmé declared, slightly drunk. “He’s all dry and funny. You told
me he was a dickhead.” She spoke just a bit too loudly, even over the buzz of the bar, and Gabe jerked up to eye me. The harder I blushed, the closer his lips twitched to a bemused smile.
“That’s not what I said.”
“Yeah, it is.” She grinned at Gabe, all conspiratorial. “You’re such a meanie sometimes, Danni.”
“Not all the time,” Gabe called over, still wearing that strange almost-smile.
I couldn’t bare it. I leapt up, ignored Esmé’s squeaks, and hurried to the bar where I bought a wet, cold bottle of pear cider. The first mouthful hit my throat in sweet prickles. God...I needed that.
Back at the table, I placed the bottle firmly in the centre of the bar mat and tried to catch Gabe’s eye again. Please, I thought, let him notice that I’m drinking the same as him—our drink—that I’m peeling off the label in little spirals of damp paper, just like he’d been doing for the past hour.
Yes, I watched his fingers. I’d been watching them all frickin’ evening because I couldn’t stop. But Gabe didn’t acknowledge my message in a bottle. That’s if he noticed it. I’m not sure he did.
***
Esmé knew something was up. I’d done well to fool her this long, I suppose, but now I was practically unravelling, throwing off ripples as I collapsed. When we got home that night, she closed the bedroom door, leaned back against it and folded her arms.
Here it comes, I thought. The serious face. “You’re a liar, Danni Warren,” she said quietly. I edged back, my legs touching the bed. “Um. What?” “You keep telling me you’re okay, but you’re not, are you?” “I...I suppose not.” “So what is it? You going to tell me? I can help, you know.” Her serious face melted
into a concerned smile. The room was dark, just floodlights casting pearly shadows through the window, and it framed her in this inky, iridescent light. “Is it something to do with your uncle? You went all funny as soon as we met him.”
Yes, yes it is, darling. He trashed my little heart like he was stubbing out a cigarette. Erm. “Sort of.”
“Sort of? What d’you mean?” “It’s kind of hard to explain,” I mumbled.
She strode over, took my hand and pulled me down to sit. Then she pressed it into her lap, her cool, soft fingers tracing soothing patterns. “I’ve got all night, pixie.”
“Right. Well. When I visited, he was asking me all these questions about uni and stuff, because he’s like, a lecturer.”
“Okay,” she said.
“And...he made me question stuff a bit. About what I wanted to study, why I was moving away when I’d save money staying at home and things. It made me a bit uncomfortable.”
“Oh, Danni.” She squeezed my hand. “And now seeing him has brought it back?” “Yeah. Sorry, that sounds really lame.” A really lame lie. “No, it doesn’t. Course not. But I wish you’d just told me, silly.” She ran her hand up
my arm and rested it on my thigh. Rubbed gently. “Are you really having second thoughts about studying architecture?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know, Es.” I couldn’t look at her. “It’s a long course. And hard. But you’ve always seemed so sure about it.” “Yeah.” “Well.” She inched closer and teased the hair from my face, her lips just inches
away. “I wouldn’t mind too much if you wanted to ditch and come to Portsmouth with me. There’s always clearing—you’d get a last minute place. Just think, going to bed together every night...”
Her kiss was warm as ever, her lip gloss sweet and sticky. I’d already had four or five drinks by that point and felt dizzy, listless...vaguely aroused. If she wanted to make me feel better like this, I wasn’t about to say no. I hid it well, but I hated myself for it.
Esmé, out of the bedroom, was kind of passive. Girly and chirpy and cute, just like her choppy, chin-length hairstyle. When we took off our clothes though, she was always the leader. So when she nudged me on to my back, eased my dress up and straddled my thighs, I fell back with a pleased little sigh and smiled as she pressed her crotch to mine. There were two layers of knickers between us, but I could already feel the heat of her.
“Ahem.” I tugged up the bottom of her T-shirt, and she giggled as she obeyed. Two dark little nipples spilled forth and I bent up to suck them.
“Ah, Danni...” She raked her fingernails through my hair, over the nerve endings hidden on my scalp. Her breasts were only small but they were firm, perfect for circling with my thumbs as I sucked her. Plus it meant I never had to fiddle around trying to get her bra off (no, not even gay girls manage that gracefully).
Soon our clothes were heaped on the wooden floor and we lay in just our knickers, her mouth on my belly. Esmé was ever seduced by the flat expanse of skin there and liked to write pretty words with her tongue. Pixie, she licked, her fingers teasing my inner thighs. Love you. Gorgeous. In a few short minutes, she’d push her tongue somewhere else and I needed that pressure so much that I bucked up to chase it.
Until, that was, she slid my underwear down my legs, and lying there all exposed for Esmé, I randomly thought of him.
Esmé breathed over my flesh before she licked it. I usually loved the way she teased, but now I’d been flung miles away and forgot the girl who pleasured me. The lines of his letters came floating back, and as I heard his deep voice say the words, I moaned.
“Danni,” Esmé mumbled into my flesh. “Your mum. Shh.”
“I...ah...know...sorry...” I pushed myself back up to her mouth, and she laved me eagerly, pleased by the soft little sounds I made.
I miss owning moments with you. Yes. Like that. I liked these moments in this wet, sucking mouth. Please— I’ve spent the past few nights in nasty hell without you, mostly wishing I was in nasty
hell WITH you. I remembered the way he watched me. The prickles down my spine at the spread of
his filthy grin. A connection, yes, like the orgasm beginning to work its way through my clenched muscles below.
“Please, baby.” I panted as she eased her fingers in. Esmé always stroked, never fucked. God, why couldn’t she just fuck me? Why couldn’t she be more forceful with her circling tongue, the way he was?
I want you back here so badly, but we can’t look too eager.
Esmé took note of my bucking hips and worked her fingers harder. I contracted around them now, coated them in clear, slippery want. Not for her, but for the words he said to me in that bleak, desperate phone call.
I want to come see you. No, scrap that. I’m driving up on Tuesday. We’ll book a hotel. I’ll have you seven different ways and you have to promise to laugh lots, because I need to hear your dirty laugh.
Esmé always withdrew for a moment when she knew I was ready to come; then her mouth returned to work again, and my breaths turned to gasps, aches turned to throbs and tugs and fires. I came with my hands fisted into her hair, my mouth full of badly-stifled yelps, and my brain...full of Gabe.
I don’t hate you. I just hate that we’re...wrong.
The comedown hit. I sucked in the air, and Esmé trailed little patterns over my thighs with her damp fingertips. Wordlessly, she inched up the bed until she straddled my face, and I bit gently through her knickers. She liked to keep them on in this position, loved the sweet friction of wet lace; I simply pushed them aside. A few months ago, I used to pull her down on to my mouth like this and get utterly lost in the swelling tide of her flesh. Immerse myself in the salt-sweet scent of her. Tonight, it just wasn’t happening.
She rode the lies on my tongue anyway, oblivious in her grip on the headboard and the practised skill of her jaded girl.

Chapter Eight

Pale moonlight. Silver shadows on our pillows. Esmé’s hair thrown across like melted gold, her breasts rising and falling in the soft undulations of sleep.
I wasn’t quite so lucky.
The knowledge that he lay a few rooms away was surreal, drunken, exhilarating and devastating. I wanted to burst through his door and clobber him over the head with a pear cider bottle. How dare he just show up after everything? How dare he?
An hour passed. Minutes and pixels melted away on my phone’s time display. In the end, I couldn’t stand it—I had to catch him while the house was quiet. Get some answers. I pulled my dress pack on, closed the door behind me and padded down the little
corridor to Gabe’s bedroom. A soft knock didn’t elicit a response. “Gabe?” I stage-whispered. “You there?” Still nothing. Gah, was I really going to do this? My fingers were already closing
around the door handle, so yeah, I s’pose I was. His bed was empty. I finally grew the balls to come find him, and he had the nerve to
not be there. I stared at his neatly made bed, and swallowed hard. We’d all returned from the pub
hours ago. It was two o’clock in the morning. It occurred to me for a second that he might have skipped out on us, especially after the awkwardness at the bar, but before my pulse could break through the skin of my wrists I spotted his battered old suitcase in a corner and his watch on the bedside table.
Thank God for that.
But I had to find him, had to talk to him. I hurried back to slip on my flip flops and cardigan, careful not to wake Esmé (though the girl slept like a log. Anyone would think I came roofies). The floorboards creaked as I checked the living area: no luck. His car was still in the drive. Maybe he went back to the pub...?
Maybe he went back to go home with someone else. Acid stung in the back of my throat. Surely he wasn’t that crass. All those hours in his arms, in his bed, on the beach— I knew exactly where he’d be. Of course I did. I knew Gabe better than anyone here.
As I hurried down the stone path, my steps made coarse grating sounds that panicked me after the quiet of the lodge. The night had turned chilly, and I wrapped my arms around my body, let my hair blow around my neck. All the while, I panicked that I was wrong, that he wouldn’t be there and that Esmé would wake up and think I’d gone batshit; the low-slung moon and its eerie white spill didn’t help, either. Just made the whole journey ominous and foreboding like I was the unwitting victim in an episode of Buffy.
I blinked once, twice; no, I saw right. A shadow sat hunched on the rock where I’d kissed Esmé earlier. It was probably even colder down by the rising tide, but he wore only his shorts and T-shirt. The wind tugged at his mop of hair, and his profile was
startling and perfect against the inky backdrop: gorgeous man, deep in thought. Magic. Bastard. Pudding. I skidded on a bit of seaweed, and he jerked up to see what the noise was. When he
caught sight of me, that vague smile returned, as if he knew I’d come. Like he was just waiting.
“Hey,” he said.
I stumbled over, still brushing the sand off my cold, bare legs. I stopped a foot away. Safe ground.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said.
“I could say the same to you.” I wouldn’t cry. No, no. Jesus, Danni—hold yourself together! I could barely keep the screeches in: you lying ball sack of a—
“Yeah.” He shrugged, unusually robotic. “I’m sorry about that. I’m...I’m sorry about everything.”
It was no use. “Like, for abandoning me?” “Oh God. Danni.” He crumpled back in on himself, his arms around his torso and his
eyes pinned to the sand. “Yes. But...no. I’m sorry for being selfish. For encouraging you, leading you on. For the phone calls and the letters. We can never have anything like that —it just wouldn’t be right, would it?” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t let you go.”
A tear escaped, already cold as it hit my cheek. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t care—”
“You don’t care? God, do you have any idea what your Mum would do if she found out? She’d fucking crucify the pair of us.”
He was right. With him here, this holiday was a cruel parody of what we might have: clandestine meetings, pretending to dislike each other in front of the family. Being separated by just a few inches that morphed into a roaring pit of despair, and all because we couldn’t hold hands when we felt like it.
“She doesn’t have to find out. Nobody does,” I insisted. No matter how sharp these truths were, standing here beside him with the crash of waves in my ears, I felt better than I had for weeks. Better and crushed and worse.
“We can’t go through life like that.” He sighed, kicked a stone. Turned back to me. “I was cruel to come here and drop Canada on you like this, I know.”
“You meant to be cruel,” I said, coldly. “You think it’s the best way to be kind to me. Like I’m a pet you put down.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m right. You’re just here to make a point about how miserable we’d be.” “I applied for this post nearly a year ago—it was always going to be on the cards.
You’re making it sound more twisted than it is.” “We are twisted!” I balled my fists. “But we were happy, weren’t we? I know it was
only a few days and a few letters, but we were both so, so happy, Gabe.” Even now, when everything was going to crap, his features lifted when I said his name. “We are like that song, aren’t we?” I went on, forcing the words. “About how
some of the most amazing things only last a day?” He gave a sarcastic little laugh. “It’s very accurate.”
“Gabe, is that us? Is that what we are?” A pair of screaming butterflies...?
“Esmé’s something. You’re lucky. You’ve got a bright, pretty girlfriend waiting in that bed for you—I’m almost your uncle. What the fuck are you doing down here?
“You know why.”
Silence. Even the whispers of the tide were sucked into a vacuum as I waited for him to speak.
“I know.” He stood, still leaning against the rock, and beckoned with a finger. His brows lurched inward. He bit his lip in defeat. “Come here.”
One minute I shivered and the next, I fell against his hard body and buried my face into his shoulder. He smelled like leaves and cider and the sea.
“You’re going so far away, and we’ve got a whole week where we can meet up like this.” I looked up at him. “Give me this week.”
“Heh. I remember when it was me trying to coerce you.” “I told you. It’s all your fault.” “Like I said.” His smile faded. “I took advantage. I’m not a very nice boy.” “You want to know what taking advantage is? It’s that bright, pretty girl asleep in
my bed. If anyone’s taking advantage of anyone, it’s me doing it to Esmé.” I’d never looked at it like that until then, but the thought stung. “I’m not a very nice girl either, am I?”
Gabe’s hands worked their way along my back. “Did you really think I’d abandoned you?”
“You stopped calling and texting and writing. It was like suddenly, we never happened.”
“I still thought about you every minute of every fucking day.” He dropped his cool forehead to rest against mine. “I just wised up and decided to do what was best for both of us.”
Without thinking, I moved my hips gently against his, rubbing against the bulge in his strained shorts.
“Baby,” he murmured. “Don’t.”
“You’re going to Canada because of me,” I said, cautious. “You’re just running away like you did to Devon to get away from the family.”
“Something like that.” “Well, stop it! Act your fucking age!” His mouth fell on mine like smack, bang, crackle, pop. Pear cider kisses—I missed
these, missed his curious tongue and the will of his forceful hands. His lips had been curved around bottles of the stuff all night long, and mine...mine had been on Esmé.
“Were you with her?” he said, panting. “Tonight?” “Yeah.” Please don’t let him hate me. “You know, when you were staying with me, the thought of you fucking a girl was
kind of hot,” he confessed. “Now that I’ve met her, I...Christ. I never expected to be jealous.”
“But you are?”
“Yeah.” He kissed me again, ravenous. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a lovely girl...but I was sitting there in the kitchen and all I could think was, can’t she tell?”
Despite everything, I beamed up at him. These horrible things I felt, he’d been feeling them too. I worried that we barely knew each other, that it hadn’t been long enough, that everything we felt was somehow false—but no. He was right: we had an amazing connection.
“She doesn’t know a thing,” I whispered. “Well. She could tell I was upset about something, but I made up some stuff about you making me uncertain about my uni choices.”
“Ah, Danni. I know I told you to stay with her but you can’t keep telling her lies.”
“I know it’s not fair. I’m just...I’m waiting until we go to uni. Until she sees this different life she could have. It’ll soften the blow, right? So yeah. Waiting.” I kissed his throat. “Unless somebody gives me a reason not to.”
“I wish I could. I can’t.”
“So how come you’re still trying to push your cock into me?” I grinned. He was unbelievably hard. “Maybe I should take care of you.” I’d read an unholy number of blowjob tutorials since I last saw him and had fantasised endlessly about putting them to good use. I went to kneel, but he caught me.
“No. Not here—” “But I can? We can be together this week, really?” “I...” He put a hand over his eyes. “I need to think about it.” “You don’t want me?” “Of course I do. But come on—we’ve already done all this once. You really want to
go through it again?” “Yes.” The word just crashed out. “Let me make some memories with you. Please. I
need them.” In a fit of lust and hope, I tried dragging his hand down between my thighs, but he groaned and tugged it away. We couldn’t say the other l-word—if he even felt it, that was—and lust would have to do. Hope blurred its edges, made its knife-edge blunt and sweet.
“Let me think about it. I’m not sure I can write that letter again, Danni.”
He was already broken, really—he just needed a little push, and I could give him that. Seduce him. Back at his little cabin, he’d wanted me so badly that I’d barely needed to smile before he pinned me, defenceless.
My skin tingling with newfound bravery, I stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Then I guess I’ll go back to get into bed with my girlfriend. My naked girlfriend.”
“Good,” he retorted.
“And if you hear any little sounds in the morning...you know the ones I’m talking about...it’s probably because she’s touching me.”
Gabe said nothing, but he took three gulps of sea air in very quick succession.
“Maybe you can come watch us rub sun lotion on each other tomorrow. We’ll be down here, on the beach. In our little bikinis. You’ve never seen me in one of those, huh?”
“I’m warning you, Danni.” He swallowed again and dropped his grasp of my ass. His hands lingered lightly on my hips. “Behave yourself.”
“Oh? So now I’m not allowed to make love with my girlfriend and then tell you all about it?”
“Danni!” He laughed, but there was a sadness to it, like the undertow that sucks unwitting swimmers beneath the waves. “Please. You really don’t need to do this. My balls are blue enough.”
I pouted.
“And no, I don’t need to hear about you and Esmé.” He brushed a little kiss to my lips. “The only people I know who make love are pensioners and prissy vanilla girls with their sad sack boyfriends. We fuck, Danni.” Another kiss, his mouth open this time. His tongue warm. “You get fucked. I fuck you.”
“I need to think about whether that’s a good idea,” I teased. He groaned again. “I’ve created a monster.” “So...so where do we go from here? What now?” “Well.” He tucked wind-whipped hair behind my ear. “Let me sleep on this—” “Looks kinda painful.”
“Not my cock, you retard. The decision.” “I love it when you get all ranty.” “Yeah. I noticed.” He sighed. “Look, Danni. Tomorrow night, same time. If I’m
here, I’m up for it, and if I’m not...well. I’m sorry.” He’ll be here. I had a sinking feeling those three words were about to be my mantra
for the next twenty-four hours. “Okay. I can cope with that.” But I wasn’t okay, and not even the slow depth of his goodnight kiss could soothe
me. Sleep wouldn’t come since he stopped sending letters, and the night stretched before me, restless and bleak.
***
Excitement eviscerated everything (and turned me into an alliterative asshat).
Esmé didn’t know what the hell to do with me. Unable to sleep, I was out of bed at seven to make pancakes, dancing around the kitchen to the radio as I went. There may have been humming. Humming without shame. When she sloped through an hour later in her shortie pyjamas, the bemused look on her face was comical.
“Danni? Why aren’t you, like, in bed?”
“Because I was hungry. Look.” I used the fish slice to gesture to my golden heap of pancake awesome. “I’m amazing.” Then I did a little shimmy, and pretended to fight off a hoard of ninjas with my utensil of doom.
“Um, pixie?” “Yeah?” “Are you...bi?” What the very fuck? What? Did I have uncle fucker emblazoned across my forehead
in ultraviolet sperm? A shiver of panic shot down my spine. I froze. “You know.” Esmé frowned. “Like, bipolar.” “Oh.” I laughed, way too hard. “No. I’m just...in a holiday mood.” “Well. For future reference: holidays are for lying in ‘til lunchtime and lots of lazy
sex. Okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gabe said from the doorway. The blue and black wetsuit, still damp, clung to every cut line of his body. His surf-flushed cheeks turned to apples as he smiled.
Esmé blushed hard enough to burst a blood vessel. Yesterday, I would have winced over this; today, I burst out laughing.
“It’s okay, Esmé,” Gabe said. “I promise not to tell Danni’s mother.” “I think she knows what we get up to,” I said. “Whether she’d admit it or not.” Esmé just padded over and dropped her forehead against my shoulder with a
whimper of mortification. I rubbed her back with the fish slice. From the doorway, Gabe shrugged and then shot me one of his naughty little half-smiles.
“Do you want some pancakes?” I managed to say.
“In a bit. Best go get changed.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you girls to it.” The floorboards creaked as he strode down the hall in bare, sandy feet.
“Is he gone yet?” Esmé whispered. “The coast is clear.” I ruffled her hair as she rose. “You’re an idiot.” “I am not. That was completely cringeworthy.” “Why?” You want cringeworthy, Esmé? Try fucking your uncle and then having to
keep it a secret from your girlfri—or, er, something a little less farfetched. Ahem. “Because I was talking about sex, and he’s...a guy.” I ladled another load of batter into the hot pan. The oil fizzed with delight as it hit.
“Is this one of those unwritten lesbian rules that I don’t get?” “No, but...” She chewed a strand of hair for a second, then tossed it back out of her
mouth. “All they think when they hear lesbians talk about sex is hot. We don’t like boys —we’re not supposed to get them off.” She folded her arms. “It shouldn’t be allowed.”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t dictate to people what should turn them on.”
She stood behind me at the stove, dropping kisses on my bare shoulder. “I don’t make love to you just so some dude can wank over it, pixie.”
Make love. God. If she could only have heard Gabe last night—you get fucked. I fuck you—she’d be livid.
I coughed, batting the smoke away from the pan. “And that’s why we close the door. Es.” I reached around to pat her hip. “You’re thinking about this too hard.”
“Pfft. You just watch Taylor today. Last night, he practically twitched every time I touched you.”
I was about to add that’s because he fancies you, but it wouldn’t have exactly supported my case.
“Es.” I flipped a pancake with a jerk of my wrist. “Have breakfast. Have a shower. Put on something that shows off your arse for me. We’re having a nice day, whether you like it or not.”
***
Welsh beaches are underrated. People forgot that Anglesey was there until Prince William and his bit of stuff moved here for his RAF placement, and then everyone pretended to know it was cool. Cool, it was most definitely not. But there was soft sand,
huge old trees and sparkly waves, and for those reasons, I forgave the stripy old deckchairs and single shitty village café.
To be honest, a few months ago, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the trees, but since Gabe and his sickening enviro-enthusiasm took a hold of me, I couldn’t escape the majesty of branches swept out against the sky. They reminded me of a warm afternoon in his cabin garden, lying naked on the grass while he—
“Hola.” Taylor dumped his towel on the sand next to me and Esmé. He had a dark lens clip over his glasses and wore short, sporty swimming trunks.
Esmé glanced up from her thriller novel and I saw her brows dip. “Um...hi.”
“You girls don’t mind if I sit with you, right? ‘Cause the alternative is hiking with my mum and your mum. And we all know that would suck.”
“It would indeed.” I glanced at Esmé, who gave a tiny, annoyed shrug. “Sit away.”
“Cool. Thanks.” He shook out his Transformers towel and yanked a fat fantasy novel from his tatty rucksack. “Hey, we’re like the book brigade.”
“Danni’s doesn’t count as a book,” Esmé said. “It’s too dull.”
I pulled my beloved copy of Why Architecture Matters back into my chest. “It’s not dull, Es. It’s all about arranging neighbourhoods and sociology and stuff. Architecture isn’t just about bricks, you know. And you love my sexy brain.”
“I could play some music on my phone if you want,” he said. “I’ve got Kings of Leon, or Dexter’s, or the Foos.”
“I like listening to the sea.” Esmé wriggled around, her belly flat against the sand and her chin resting in her palm.
“Oh. Okay then.” Taylor nodded and fiddled with his glasses again. I knew he was checking out Esmé’s tits—they fell in little heaps to squash against the sand, but her purple string bikini pulled them up to a perfect angle. If he shifted around a little more, he’d probably get a hint of dark nipple.
We fell into semi-awkward silence. The sun baked us, the breeze teased our book pages, and Taylor cleared his throat loudly way too often. I shouldn’t have been so annoyed by him, really—he came across as smug and nerdy, but he didn’t mean to. We’d been best friends when we were little, both only children of the same age. Mum and Aunt Lizzie still had photos of Taylor and me as chubby cherubs, playing in sandpits and sharing baths. There was one of us on the kitchen wall at home with our faces covered in chocolate at Easter. I don’t know what happened, but we hit our early teens and kind of just grew apart. I mean, who wants to play World of Warcraft all afternoon when you can...well. Do anything else?
“Hey. Taylor.” Esmé hauled herself up. “There’s Gabe. You should go join him.” Taylor’s face fell. “I should?” “Yeah. You can, like, do bloke stuff. Or something.” I heard the drag of his surfboard over the sand. Ah, Gabe in a wetsuit: like somebody
put muscle and tanned skin and cocky gorgeousness into a bowl, stirred, and stuffed it into the fabric. I loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled in the sunshine; it lifted his whole face, and he looked just the right amount of older (I’m eighteen, so I’m probably the only one who knows what that means).
“Didn’t he already go surfing today?” said Taylor.
“What, there’s a limit?” I rolled my eyes at him.
“Get him to teach you.” Esmé pinned her book to the sand as the breeze ruffled the pages again. “If he can teach Danni to surf, he can teach anybody.”
I leaned over her, my fingers toying with her bikini top ties. “I think what Es is trying to say is that she wants some privacy to ravish me.”
“Oh.” He coughed, hauling himself up. “Oh. Sorry.” “I was joking, you twit.” I grinned at him. “But yeah. Alone time. Girl time.” He shot me a thin-lipped, apologetic smile before trawling off toward Gabe, who’d
already put his surfboard against the rocks and was checking out the waves. “Nice save, pixie.” Esmé rolled over and rested on her elbows. “He creeps me out.” “He just thinks you’re hot.” I dropped a kiss on her arm. “Because you are.” She craned her neck to look back at Taylor and Gabe. “They’re not allowed to think
I’m hot.” I laughed. “We went over this earlier.” She tutted, but rolled on to her side to push up against me. Snuggled together, we
carried on reading, pausing occasionally to sip water. The best thing about sunglasses is that nobody knows what you’re looking at. This
meant I could stare at Gabe as long as I liked and Esmé didn’t have to know about it. He stood propped up against his surfboard with his arms folded, chatting away to Taylor. Next to each other, it became apparent how similar their builds were; Gabe was thicker, sturdier, but when the hell did Taylor fill out like that?
Two soft, warm hands gripped my shoulders and dragged me down to lie on my side. Esmé caught my bottom lip between her teeth and sucked gently. I mewed in surprise.
“Fuck it,” she whispered. “I’ve had enough. Reverse psychology—let’s just give them the show they’re after, and then maybe they’ll stop staring.”
“Oh.” Oh. We shed our sunglasses and with them, our inhibitions. If she was going to touch me like this, I’d let her think the guys stared because we were lesbians...not because Taylor wanted to screw her and Gabe wanted to screw me.
Our kisses deepened. Esmé’s nipples grew stiff against mine, and she made soft little sighs of pleasure as I pushed my thigh up between her legs. I couldn’t see, but I knew Gabe was watching. And jealous. Maybe I should’ve felt like I was betraying Esmé, but I didn’t. I felt like I betrayed him. I’m warning you, Danni. Behave yourself. Even then, with this cute girl’s tongue in my mouth and her feathery strokes over my belly, I heard the way his voice dropped to say that...and I whimpered.
“Pixie.” She panted warm air against my collarbone. “I need to stop.” “Aww. And we were performing so well.” “It’s too much.” I kissed her again. “I’ll make it up to you later, you big attention whore.” “Shush, you.”
“Oh, crap.” I peeled myself away from her, sitting up. “They’re coming over.” “What?” She glanced around and groaned. “They’d best not be after joining in!” Turned out Gabe had a you’re-in-trouble stare just like Mum’s. Creepy. To anyone
else, he was just squinting under the bright sun, but I knew that look. How much had I pissed him off? He’d still be there waiting for me tonight, right...?
“Not surfing?” said Esmé.
“Waves are a bit rubbish. We thought we’d come see what you were up to.” Gabe glanced at me. “If that’s okay.” He plonked himself down on Taylor’s towel, his carrier bag landing beside him in a crunch of glass-on-glass. “I brought goodies.”
Taylor followed him down to the sand, grinning. “He brought beer.”
“You were going to surf drunk?” I said, incredulous. And slightly worried. After last night, I knew he was unhappy, but—
“I was not.” He pouted. “Well. One never hurts.” Taylor dug around in the bag and pulled out bottles of cider. “You girls want?” Esmé swallowed as if to voice her disapproval. She was such a goody two-shoes
sometimes. I knew I shouldn’t, but the bottles were damp with cold, and it was so frickin’ warm...
“Esmé will have one,” Gabe said, reaching for the bottle opener. “Won’t you?”
“I—uh—” She didn’t want to refuse him. Him and his annoyingly useful charm. “Why not?”
Taylor took the opener and twisted lids off for all of us. We sat in the sun with the cool glass bottles against our foreheads. The chilled fizz of the cider coated my tongue, sweet and fresh and heady. Taylor must have relaxed a bit because he only looked at Esmé’s chest once, and that was when I brushed the sand off her left breast. I didn’t even think, it was just reflexive—but then Gabe’s behave-yourself glare returned in a flash of jealous warning, and I recoiled into my towel.
“This is more like it, eh?” said Taylor.
“I suppose my book was getting a bit abusive of the third person narrative.” Esmé nudged the paperback now splayed on the sand. “Crappy plot, too.”
Taylor choked on his cider. Esmé purring third person narrative nearly melted him into a sticky, wasp-seducing puddle of boy fudge. Baha.
“You like that stuff?” he said, awed. “You mean books?” “I mean, English. Literature. Criticism, pulling things apart and getting the ideas and
just—” He clasped his hands together as if trying to smother an invisible fairy. “He means he’s a book geek. And apparently so are you,” I said. “Oh.” Esmé shrugged. “A bit, maybe.” She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of any
more words than she had to. I’d have laughed if it didn’t feel mean. “Taylor would choose books over girlfriends,” I teased. “In fact I think he did,
once.” “I was eleven!” he protested. Gabe laughed, deep and throaty. “Tell me it wasn’t for a copy of The Hardy Boys.” “Like I’d read that steaming heap. We were here, actually. On holiday. I was talking
to this girl I’d met, and we were—” He did quotation marks with his fingers, “—going out. We were just chatting and stuff—”
“And holding hands,” I supplied.
“And holding hands.” Taylor half-smiled. “Anyway, we were on this rock, standing up to watch these birds make a pattern in the sky or something cheesy like that. We lost our balance and she went head-first into the sea.”
Esmé frowned. “Gosh. You got her out, right?”
“I dropped Animal Farm into the water at the same time. I had about five seconds to choose, and...” He paused, sighing with shame. “I went after the book.”
We split into factions immediately: Esmé with her open mouth, and her disgust that mirrored Taylor’s; Gabe and I, trying to stem our dirty chuckles.
“That’s legendary,” said Gabe, clutching his wet-suited self. “It’s horrible!” Esmé cried. I shook my head. “You weren’t there. It was hilarious. And the water wasn’t deep or
anything—she was okay.” Taylor took another gulp of his drink to avoid Esmé’s accusing eyes. “She did cry.
Only time I ever made a girl cry, and it was over a book.” “I’ve never made a girl cry,” said Esmé, sharing a secret little smile with me. I’d done it to her. I stood her up not long ago, left her hanging on the end of an
empty Facebook conversation because a certain someone called to say that he couldn’t let me go. Someone like—
Gabe cleared his throat. “Oh, I’ve done it. Here as well. Just like Tay.” “Go on then,” said Taylor. “Can’t be worse than what I did.” “Well.” He readjusted himself, sitting cross-legged, and the glare of the sun fused
around his profile to cast a fuzzy glow. “Back then, Mum and Dad used to come up in the weeks before Easter because it was cheaper. Definitely wasn’t beach weather, so they took us looking for crabs and plants and stuff—we’d be here in our wellies and knitted jumpers.”
“Sexy,” said Taylor.
“You bet. Anyway. Used to fall around Earth Day, and the local conservation group always had events on and things. I made friends with this Welsh girl—her dad ran the group—every year, we’d have a kind of thing going on. Our parents teased us something rotten. I hit thirteen though and I’d never even kissed her, despite knowing her for years. One night we all got together for this newt spotting thing—”
“Newt spotting?” I snorted. “How romantic.” Gabe winced. “Precisely.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Esmé said. “Newts are kind of cute.” “The attractiveness of newts aside, we were all hunched up in sleeping bags, waiting
for these newts to come out. Our parents were getting squiffy and they’d let us have one beer each. She didn’t even like it—she was just taking tiny sips, pretending. Our parents really ramped up the teasing. They were like, go on, just give her a kiss. Don’t be scared. Be a man, go in for the kill. It seriously got to me. I should have just laughed it off, but I got so wound up about it that I ended up shouting I don’t bloody want to kiss her!” Gabe put his face in his hands, and now Taylor was the only one tittering.
“I can see how that’d make someone cry,” Esmé said. “It’s bad enough when you’re older, but when you’re thirteen...”
“Well. Yeah.” Gabe sighed. “She was mortified. I was mortified. I cried too, actually, but not until much later when we got back to the lodge—because I really did want to kiss her, but she’d never have believed it after that. And there was no way I was doing it in front of our parents anyway.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees. “That’s the most cringeworthy thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
Gabe gave a bitter little laugh. “Yeah. Fucking Earth Day.” Taylor nodded. “Fucking newts.” “So was that the only time, Gabe?” Esmé said, her eyes wide and curious. “Or have
you repeatedly yelled obscene things at girls you fancied?” “What, you mean, did I make any more girls cry? I was a moronic teenage boy. Of
course I did.” “But not recently,” she teased. It was probably just me. Had to be. But in that moment, it felt like the clouds blotted
out the sun and the wind turned cold. “Recently?” Gabe’s eyes narrowed, and just like last time, it wasn’t because of the
bright light. His silver-gray pupils focused on me as they dilated, stretched by an oily gleam of guilt and desire. “Now that would be telling.”

Chapter Nine

I don’t experience emotions in the same order as other people. I’m screwed that way, really. If I was a normal person, when Gabe went all possessive on my ass earlier and started making me feel bad for touching my girlfriend, my first reaction would have been anger—full on, hell-hath-no-fury, bitch please rage. He abandoned me. Blanked me. Cut me off. How dare he try to twist all that to his advantage?
But I didn’t feel that way. It didn’t even occur to me to be angry until we were making dinner; when I kissed Esmé’s shoulder, he cleared his throat so loudly you’d think he was auditioning for a Listerine ad. No, instead I spent the entire afternoon guilty for making him feel bad. All I knew was that if he’d turned up with someone else and put on that little peep show on the beach, I’d be glued together with nothing but snot and tears.
So while Esmé sliced chicken and peppers and wittered on about the sex appeal of newts (I may have that wrong), my thought process went something like this:
oh God he looks miserable chicken smells good. Smoked paprika? No, he really does look miserable WELL MAYBE THAT’S HIS OWN FUCKING FAULT Can’t stand it, need to touch him, even if he is a prick I mean, I’m a prick too when you think abou— ooh, is that Esmé’s nipple? Who has better nipples, Esmé or Gabe? Esmé’s are more ethical, they would never leave me out for the wolves like a frickin’ Chinese baby girl Not like HIM How dare he look at me like I’m murdering a puppy every time I touch my girlfriend? And what the hell is up with all the cider he’s drinking anyway? Chicken DOES smell good. Needs garlic though Oh God I’ve turned him into an alcoholic And I love him I love him I love him also I HATE HIM ARGH
“Danni? Are you all right?” Mum peered at me over her glass of wine, from her perch at the kitchen island. “You’ve gone awfully quiet.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. Esmé frowned at me in the avalanche of pink sunset that crashed through the kitchen
window. “You caught the sun, pixie. Let me go get the cocoa butter.” Behind her, Gabe, who sat in an easy chair with a conservation magazine, shook his
head. No, he mouthed. He didn’t want to see Esmé touch me like that. But what the hell did he expect me to do? He was leaving for Canada in a week. I was supposed to throw the towel in with Esmé here and now, was I? What a wonderful
holibobs we’d all have then. “I said, I’m fine.” I sighed. “I’m off for a shower.” Esmé gestured to the wok. “But dinner—” “Not hungry. I’ll have some later.” This was turning into my weekend with Gabe all over again—my only escape was
the bathroom. Worse, I had even more shame and confusion to wash off than I did back then, and no amount of scrubbing and lemony soap would do it. I rinsed the nervous sweat from the back of my neck three times but I could still feel it there, prickling, goading. Make your mind up, it sneered. Like I even had a choice to make—I knew Esmé wasn’t The One, but Gabe would be on a plane this time next week. How was any of that fair?
I won’t lie. Since my twilight tryst with Gabe, I’d been hot as hell. Aching for something. Esmé’s little performance on the beach didn’t help but even then, it was just that—a performance. If Gabe had touched me like that down on the sand, every moan and stroke would have been real.
We had no plans tonight. Esmé wanted to watch a film, which was basically her code phrase for sex. I couldn’t take any more of her gentle pseudo fuckery, not when I knew Gabe would be sweating it out in the next room, wishing I came for him instead. I practically counted the minutes until I could sneak out and find him against the rocks.
So I did what bad girls do with the showerhead. I fell back against the cool tiles, my skin sticking to the porcelain, and I got closer...and closer...closer...and...what the fuck was wrong with me? The orgasm just wouldn’t come. I couldn’t come. Nada. Zilch. Just as I reached the peak, every scrap of pleasure fell away and my flesh turned raw and numb. Marvellous, really. Of all the places the karma bus decided to stop...my girl parts? Sob.
Esmé banged on the door, all concerned because I’d been ages and all pissed because Taylor had turned up uninvited for dinner. (Bless the kid. He just wanted company of his own age). I pissed her off even more for inviting him to stay, but I didn’t have the heart to kick him out, and besides—he was a good excuse to avoid going to bed with a girl I was still taking horrible advantage of.
You can probably guess how our little ménage a trois went that evening. Esmé wanted to watch one of her subtitled foreign monstrosities; normally, I vetoed them straight away and she giggled and let me have my way, but tonight she was just plain difficult because of Taylor. He was civil—said he didn’t mind what we watched—and it annoyed her no end. We settled on a terrible, tasteless comedy that made none of us laugh, and Esmé made excuses for bed before the end.
“Come with me, pixie,” she hissed, shoving her elbow into my ribs. “I should see Taylor out.” “He’s been looking down my top all night.”
“Stop exaggerating. He’s still my cousin.” I shrugged. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in ten, promise.”
With a melodramatic sigh, Esmé huffed down to our bedroom in little sweeps of socked feet. Taylor waited for the door to swing closed and then leaned forward on his elbows.
“She hates me, doesn’t she?” “Um.” I gulped. “I wouldn’t say that.” “She makes all these little comments like I’m beneath her, or something. Is...is it a
lesbian thing? Am I allowed to say that? Does she have issues with guys?” He looked so awkward that I wanted to laugh, but that would have been unfair. “I’m not sure what it is, exactly. I mean...yeah, she seems sensitive about men right
now.” I paused, pursing my lips. “And she thinks you perv on her all the time.” His cheeks flushed, and he slapped them with flat palms. “I do not! Well, not that much. I can’t help it—she wears these little vests with no bra, and her boobs are just
there.” Couldn’t help it this time. I did laugh, and even though I tried to turn it into a cough,
I failed miserably. “So ladylike,” said Taylor, trying not to lapse into guffaws himself. “So how can I
become an honorary girl this week? Because that’s what I need to do, right?” “There’s a special ceremony where we cut off your penis and feed it to crabs.” “Hardy ha ha.” “Taylor.” I hauled myself up to get another Coke from the fridge (I needed to stay
awake for two hours yet before Gabe). “If it was up to me, you’d be cool. But I think Esmé thought it was going to be me and her on this holiday and she’s feeling a bit...”
“Pouty?” “Something like that. You want another drink?” “I dunno, aren’t you going to bed in a minute?” I glanced up at the clock. If I went in now, Esmé would whinge for a while and then
try to go down on me. I wanted neither of those things, and catching up with Taylor was kind of nice. “Nah. I’m going to let her cool off first.”
“Then yeah. Beer, please.”
I cracked the lid off a Budweiser, pressed it into his hand, and perched next to him on the beat-up sofa. “So you not doing blokey things with Gabe?”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. Everyone knows he’s weird, Danni.” “Weird like, how?” “Like he never comes to family things. I haven’t seen him since I was about ten, and
now here he is, all hey, I’m an awesome surfer dude, watch me pose in my wetsuit and flirt with the beach ladies.”
I froze. “What ladies?” “Oh, I dunno. He just looks like the type.” Thank God for that. “I suppose.” “I mean, he’s okay to talk to and that...until he gets on to all that eco crap, anyway.
I’m not into that. I’ve tried, I just...” “You have no conscience.” I grinned.
“I have no conscience. I’m a selfish twat,” he agreed. “Soon to be a selfish, smarmy Oxford twat.” He tucked his glasses back up his nose. “Oh, like you can talk, Miss Architecture!
You’ll probably end up richer than me, especially if you keep seeing girls.” I sat back and took a big swig of Coke. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” “Well...” He’d gone all clammy and awkward again. “Not as easy to have kids, is it?
And kids are expensive.” “Lesbians can still have kids, you dumbass.” What’s that saying about really clever
people who have no common sense? Taylor fitted that anecdote perfectly. “I know that. Just...either you still have to have sex with a bloke, or have one of
those clinic procedure things. And they aren’t cheap either.” “I could have sex with a bloke if I wanted,” I retorted, slightly high on the caffeine. He raised an eyebrow. “You into that?” “Like I can’t be?” “I just thought—” “You assumed.” I pointed my glass Coke bottle at him. “Everybody assumes, when
they see me with Esmé, that I only like girls.” “It’s an impulse thing though, isn’t it? Like if you saw me with a girl, you’d assume I
was straight.” “I wouldn’t assume anything. But then I’m me.” Taylor’s upper lip twitched, but he broke into a smile anyway. He was enjoying our
catch up, too. I kinda felt guilty for laughing at him with Gabe about the whole Oxford thing. Heck, maybe we were both jealous.
“So you get on okay with Uncle Gabe,” said Taylor. “Didn’t you go stay with him, or something?”
“I did. I made the mistake of telling Mum our house was crappy, and the next thing I know, I’m being packed off to his little shed in Devon to learn to appreciate just how good I’ve got it.”
“So he was your punishment.” Taylor tittered to himself, but he didn’t know how right he was, and my throat went all acidy at the thought.
“S’pose so. It ended up being cool, though. He’s not that bad. Just likes to keep to himself, a bit. He tried teaching me to surf...” I smiled at the memory. “But I was crap.”
“I wondered if maybe...you know. He was kind of like a father figure.”
Father figure? What was one of those, exactly? I might as well have been the product of an immaculate (and slightly moody) conception.
“Um...I don’t know about that.” “Did you find out why he stopped doing family stuff?” “He fell out with Mum about something. I don’t know why, exactly. And Gran and
Grandad didn’t really approve of him studying plants at uni—I think they never thought he’d amount to much.”
“He did have those fucking awful dreadlocks,” said Taylor.
“Ha. Yeah. He did. He just found it hard to compete with our Mums, I think. And he likes being alone anyway.” Or he did until he met me. I thought you liked your own space, I’d told him. You make my space a whole lot prettier, he’d said, and then kissed
me with the kind of ferocity saved for starving lovers and snatched goodbyes. “Well I guess he showed them, what with this Canada thing. What’s he going out
there to do, again?” “I don’t know.” And I didn’t want to. If I pretended it wasn’t happening, it was a
teensy bit easier to cope with. Just. “So what about you then, hmm? Is there a girlfriend at home?”
Taylor blushed again, shrugging. He scratched at the label on his beer bottle with blunt nails. “Nah. Not right now.”
“Oh? ‘Cause you’ve sort of filled out, haven’t you?” He squared his shoulders. “You think?” “Yep.” “Oh. Cheers. I mean, there was this girl a few months ago. We went out and stuff.
But it didn’t...” “Didn’t work?”
“No.” He took another gulp of beer and lowered his glassy eyes. “We were both going away to uni, you know. And she was the sister of a friend. Would have been kind of tricky.”
“I know how that feels,” I mumbled. “I bet you do.” He meant coming out, liking girls. But that wasn’t what I meant, and I counted the
minutes until everything got trickier and stickier for me. ***
I didn’t go in to bed for another hour and just as I expected, Esmé was in an awful mood. She pretended to be asleep at first but then started to make snide little comments as I climbed under the covers. No amount of apology seemed to placate her—in truth, I really wasn’t in the mood—but I needed her asleep for when I crept out to meet Gabe, so I gave her one of my professional lesbian massages. (Get your mind out of the gutter—I mean I rubbed her back). Soft, girly snores filled the room in ten minutes flat.
I was terrified of letting my head hit the pillow in case I actually fell asleep; it wasn’t like I could set an alarm. So I read Why Architecture Matters until my vision blurred, and though I was early, crept out into the night air just to stay awake.
Tonight, I wore the sundress he had me in before. A little jacket protected me from the edge of the breeze, and flat boots made less of a crunch against the stone path.
In my excitement, of course, I’d forgotten there was a chance that he might not be there. And the bastard wasn’t.
No figure hunched over our spot of rocks; no profile of a tall, broad man chucking stones into the waves. I was too nervous to call his name out so I hissed it in a raw prayer that was instantly swallowed by the groan of the sea. Wet sand churned beneath my boots. I was a bit early, true, but there was only one way to the beach from the lodge, and I’d have seen him on the road, right? What with his broad steps, he’d have caught me up in no—
“Danni? That you?”
I jerked around, trying to locate his voice. Then Gabe emerged on his hands and knees from a cluster of rocks down the beach, and I nearly fell over as I rushed over to throw myself at him.
“I thought you weren’t here,” I said against his mouth.
He drew back a moment, and the space between us thumped like a heartbeat, the flutter of his eyelashes a butterfly pulse. Then his arms tightened around me, his brows dipped, and his lips dropped to weave two months of want with mine.
He was a glass of wine left to go sticky in the sunshine, and the longer I took mouthfuls of him, the quicker I wavered beneath his drunken heat. His fingers grazed along my waistline, up between my shoulder blades and along the dip in the back of my neck; there, they lingered as he bit my top lip.
“Of course I’m here,” he murmured. “You were all pissed and nonchalant, like you probably wouldn’t be.” “Left over from my band days.” I grinned up at him, still disorientated from kissing someone so much taller and
stronger than me. “You going to sing for me, Mr Asher?” He let go of me for a moment, making a tiny box shape with his hands. “See this?
This is the amount of fucks I give about egopathic bands.” “Because you’re all enviro-friendly and mature these days.” “Damn straight.” “You could be eco and still poseur.” I cocked my head. “Like Bono.” “How many times have you snuck off to the beach to screw Bono, Danni?” He took a hold of me again, all big palms and thick biceps, and my skin fizzed
beneath his. “You brought me here for that?” “Maybe. Maybe not. Come on. Looky.” He gestured to the clump of rocks he’d
crawled from. Stepping forward, I saw how he’d pitched a windbreaker inside the edge of them and then draped a blanket over the top. Like a little tent. Towels lined the floor inside, and the whole thing had the lure that dark places always do.
“Oh, Gabe.” I fell to my knees and pulled myself inside, him close behind me. There was just enough room for us to lie beside each other, though we couldn’t sit up without hunching. “It’s lovely.”
“It’s private.” He curled around me, smelling of smoky aftershave and sharp sea. “Private enough.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t be here, after Esmé—”
“Shh. I’ve got two months of being a complete twat to make up for.” He smiled, his cheek coarse against my collarbone. “Do you hate me?” He sucked a light welt. “Now, do you hate me...?”
“I don’t hate you. I just hate that we’re wrong.”
At that, he groaned. The sound warmed my flesh, fierce in its desire and desperate in his vulnerability. He might have run from me before, but not now. Too much. Resolve melted in the heat of our bodies, and I loved that he gave in to me, to us, this thing we created without even trying. This thing we owned.
Gabe climbed on top of me, dragging my dress up in the process. He ran a wide palm
up my inner thigh and when it hit my bare flesh, his kiss turned feral. “Danni. Jesus. Fucking hell.” I giggled. “We’re not meant to be talking.” “Are you even wearing a bra?”
Laid back against the towel, hair splayed beneath me, I peeled my bodice down. My skin goose-pimpled in the ocean air. “I wanted it to be like our last time on the beach,” I breathed.
“It can’t be that, but that doesn’t matter. It can be different.” He laved my nipple with the widest part of his tongue, warm and wet. “And better.”
Before, when we were satisfied, Gabe had spent our slower sessions sucking and licking my breasts. His fingers came into play before long, stroking and stretching and massaging, like I was made of dough good enough to eat raw. Now, he worshipped me the same way, only our urgency translated to rough little bites that drew yelps from my lips, and firm squeezes that made me shiver.
“I missed these,” he murmured. “I...I gathered...” He shoved my dress farther up to bunch at my waist, and his fingers walked down. I
swear my muscles yanked in, jolted, as if they might suck a finger or two in as they moved. I’d waited for this, longed for it, lost hope...
“Ready, huh?” His kiss was warm and hard. “Please.” “Well...” He kissed all the way down my belly, pausing to nuzzle the ruched band of
dress. “Somebody needs to learn not to goad this poor boy by showing off with her girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry.” I panted. “I didn’t know how to get out of it, I swear I—”
“No matter, Danni. Just don’t fucking do it again.” He ran the tip of his tongue around the very edge of where my underwear should have been. “But if I’m going to kiss here, it’d damn well better be mine.”
I didn’t voice it, but he knew my answer anyway, even if he couldn’t translate it from my ragged spill of sighs. I took his blond hair in fistfuls and swelled right into his mouth.
There were a hundred things I wanted to tell him, like how I’d missed his brash manner and forceful tongue. A thick belter of an orgasm tugged at me, and I sank back to spread my legs farther, to let it get a hold of me and writhe its way out. He could have filled me already, could have me wrapped around his waist as he fucked just for him—but he put this first. God, I—
“What the hell was that?” I hissed.
We both froze at the sound of footsteps, not too far from our makeshift cover. A soft, boyish hum carried on the wind: a Foo Fighters song.
“No,” I whispered. “No way.”
Gabe hurried to pull the dress back down my thighs, then twisted to peer out on to the beach. When he turned to me, he’d gone pale. “Yes, way.”
“Oh fuck.” I tucked my bodice over my breasts, wriggled down to the entrance, and darted out to check for myself. The smell hit me before the sight did, but there he was:
my goody two-shoes cousin Taylor, hunched over a rock...smoking a joint. “How is this happening?”
Gabe wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tugged me back in. “Danni. He might see you.”
We inched back to our original spot, lying deep in the cover of our sort-of tent. “I can’t believe Taylor’s a stoner.” “I can’t believe we were nearly fucking caught,” he said, his voice low. “I mean,
Jesus. Imagine if we weren’t in here.” He went to tug my skirt back up, but I caught his wrist.
“Gabe...no. I can’t do it with him out there.” He pouted. “Whah?” “I mean, I want to—seriously—but I can’t relax when he’s, like, a few feet away
from us. What if we get too loud, and he hears?” Gabe buried his face in my cleavage. “We’ll be quiet. Promise.” I stifled a giggle. “I guess your balls are blue enough already, eh?” “Too right, they are.” He gave me a slow, tongue-laced kiss. “Now lie back and
come in my mouth. Pretty please?” “I can’t.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.” More footsteps outside, scraping and sinking about in the sand. “This is freaking me out,” I hissed. “Come here.” Gabe rolled me on to my side, and folded himself behind. His arms
wrapped tightly around me, and he stroked the hair from my ear so he barely had to whisper. Warm, damp breath drenched my cheeks and shoulders, and I trembled against the firm shape of his body. “We’ll wait it out. He won’t be long.”
“I hope so.” Gabe’s hands found my breasts, and they massaged in sweet, feathery caresses. “That feels nice,” I said. “Good.” He shifted about, evidently uncomfortable. “Pixie.” “Don’t.” “It’s not half as catchy as perfect robot boyfriend.” “Is that what you are?” “Your boyfriend? Yes.” He nuzzled into my neck. “Really?” “Yes. Somehow.” He bit a line of sucking kisses along my throat. “Hey, if I can’t
curl up on the sofa with you and talk crap...at least we have this.” I pushed back against him, luxuriating in the feel of his hands. My boyfriend’s hands.
I felt drunk again, on adrenaline and shivers and hope, and I had to pretend otherwise because that was what little girls felt, wasn’t it?
“So.” I raised an eyebrow. “Turnip Jesus.” He stiffened. “I’m going to kill Jess very slowly.” I had to try so hard to hold my laughter in. “How did you even come up with it?” “My mate’s Mum cut a turnip one Sunday and found what looked like a picture of
Jesus. We were all a bit drunk and thought it was a sign.” I grinned. “Right.”
“Please stop asking about it.” “But I love how embarrassed you are!” “Promise me you’ll never Google us, Danni.” He pressed his face into my shoulder
and I rocked him like a baby. What followed was a macabre little parody of my sedation of Esmé: Gabe stroked
and rubbed every inch of my exposed skin, and as we waited for Taylor to skedaddle, I drifted off to sleep.
“Hey.” He shook me gently. “Don’t you dare flake out on me. Danni!” “Mmph.” At four a.m., he carried me home in the grapefruit glow of sunrise, and I mumbled
apologies as only a sleep-slaughtered lover could.

Chapter Ten

“Rise and shine, pixie!” Morning. Sunshine. Esmé. Drool. Bleugh. I pushed my face into the pillow and attempted to speak. Then I spat out the
mouthful of pillow. “What time is it?” “Gone eight.” Esmé already sat at the dressing table, styling her blond bob. She wore
a sequinned, embroidered kaftan that cut off mid-thigh, and her little string bikini showed underneath. The sunshine kept catching on her shiny berry lip gloss and throwing flashes off the mirror.
“That it?”
“You were up before me yesterday. I’m just trying to catch up.” She plugged her hair straighteners in. “What time did you come to bed in the end, anyway?”
“What? I came in not long after you. Massage, remember?” I stretched and yawned.
“Oh...yeah.” She frowned in the mirror. “Just I woke up at one point, and you weren’t in bed.”
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. “Must’ve been in the bathroom,” I muttered.
“Serves you right for staying up drinking.” She said it as a joke, but sarcasm underscored her tone. “Is Taylor passed out on our sofa after all that?”
“Um...I’m pretty sure he went home.” Or to the beach, where he nearly caught two members of his family doing something distinctly illicit (ironic that he was the one breaking the law).
“Well, at least that’s something.” She finished doing her hair, and stood up to pull on a pair of tiny white shorts. “Are we still going shopping this morning?”
“If you want.” “Cool. I need new moisturiser.” She glanced back at me. “Just the two of us, right?” I pushed myself to smile. “Just the two of us.” She bent forward to check her makeup in the mirror, and in the shorts, her arse was a
perfect peach shape. Gah, I was so ungrateful. “And maybe we can get lunch somewhere cute?”
“We’ll find cake,” I promised.
“Do we really have to do that barbecue thing later? I feel kind of smothered with everyone around all the time.”
The annual family beach barbecue. It was all part of our holiday ritual. My granddad and great uncle manned the grill and cooked my grandma’s special recipes: fish in spices, cheese and veggie skewers, burgers made with lots of black pepper and slabs of tomato and bacon. I’d been looking forward to it since we got to the lodge.
“My Mum will be really disappointed if we don’t,” I lied. Well, not exactly lied. Just cast the blame elsewhere. “You might even like it, Es.”
“I suppose so.” She stepped over and climbed on to the bed, stroking the mess of bed
hair from my bare shoulder. “We need to remember your sun block.” “You big OAP.”
“Am not. Just worried about my girl.” She dropped a kiss on the swell of my cleavage. “Now come on, make a move. I want to get into town early and eat jelly beans for breakfast.”
***
My relationship with Esmé was built on jelly bean breakfasts. We met while playing on our sixth form college’s hockey team, and I would regularly turn up for Saturday morning matches with a huge bag of Jelly Belly’s finest. Every week, she came earlier and earlier to share them; I’d never been with a girl before so my gaydar didn’t make a peep (if I even had a gaydar, then). Our first kiss had tasted of cola flavour beans, and in our sweeter moments, we liked to recreate the memory.
The only thing I wanted that morning, frankly, was an orgasm. I’d been denied it the previous night with Gabe, and I had the girly equivalent of blue balls. But instead of that, I hauled myself out of bed after just a few hours’ sleep and trawled the shops of Bangor with Esmé. While she tried out perfumes, I dosed myself up on nostalgia-inducing aftershaves like an addict sniffing poppers; as she mused over a new shade of eye shadow, I raided the samples for mascara and foundation to make me look less like a zombie and more like a hot, awake lesbian. (Definitely not a traitorous uncle fucker. But should you come across some poor, harassed teen girl trailing after another, with dark circles like craters and reeking of Chanel Homme, you know what she’s been doing).
When we got back to the lodge after lunch, I’d barely dropped our bags before Mum cornered me in the kitchen.
“Danni. Have you got a moment?” She wore a sucky-stomach one-piece with a cut- off denim skirt; Mum was on the prowl after losing Malcolm the Moron.
“What’s up?”
“Well. I wanted to ask you.” She scrunched back her long dark hair, and secured it in a bun. “You get on well with your Uncle Gabe, don’t you?”
“Um...yeah.” So he was Uncle Gabe now, was he? Wow. Mum really had cut him some slack after he “punished” me.
“It’s just that he’s been spending a lot of time alone on this holiday. It’s not easy for him—he gets left out when me and Lizzie are around. I think he’s feeling a bit lost.”
She had no idea. “I’m sure he’s fine, Mum.”
“I just wondered if maybe you could make a point of keeping him company. I know you’re here to be with Esmé before you go off to university, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“I could ask her.” I tried so hard to sound vague, unbothered. I just sounded knackered instead.
“Have a drink with him at the barbecue,” she suggested. “I know Taylor tries with him, but they don’t have a lot in common.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” I glanced up at the clock. “Do I have time to get changed before we head down to the beach?”
“I think so. See you in twenty.” So Mum wanted me to spend more time with Gabe. Would she still be saying that if she knew the truth...?
***
There is no better smell than grilling meat, charcoal, and the fresh salt of the sea. The barbecue had been going for an hour now, and Granddad tossed on the first burgers. They hit the grate with a satisfying hiss and sizzle. When I was little, I’d watch with huge, hungry eyes and pounce on the first cooked burger only to slather it in ketchup. Now that I preferred real tomato, the whole thing felt mature and sophisticated (or as sophisticated as burgers get).
Beside me, Taylor made caveman grunts. “Meat. Ooh, sir.” “Hungry?” “I could tear the flesh off a cow. Literally, I’d like, chase after it and just lunge with
my mouth open.” He put his beer down on a rock to mime catching a cow like a Frisbee, and I dissolved into giggles while Esmé rolled her eyes.
“You’ll change your mind when you try the Warren burger,” I told her.
Taylor, evidently still a bit stoned from last night, gave a dirty laugh. “Pretty sure she gets regular Warren burger.”
Esmé glared, and I swatted him around the head so hard that his glasses fell down his nose.
“Taylor. Are these two bullies giving you a hard time?” Gabe appeared next to him, a look of amusement pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Because I can sort them out if you need me to.”
“I’m okay.” He adjusted his glasses. “Just...phrased something badly.”
“He made a terrible lesbian sex joke,” I announced, trying not to eat Gabe with my eyes. I couldn’t wait to corner him, and I was terrified everyone would take one look at me and understand why.
“Never a good idea, mate,” Gabe said. “How’s that foot taste?”
“Is it a cow’s foot? Nom.” Taylor gave us all a drunk grin and then sloped off toward his Mum.
“You girls want a drink?” Gabe lifted a cool box that rang with the clink of glass.
“All you do is ply us with alcohol,” Esmé said. There was her sweet-but-sarcastic tone again. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect she actually knew something.
“I don’t ply. I offer,” he said, looking wounded. Then he pulled a bottle of chilled pear cider from the box, and tossed it in a little somersault. “Danni? You want?”
“Yes please.” Just for a second, I allowed myself to catch his big, gray eyes. Danni, you want? For the love of God, please let us be alone for more than ten minutes!
Let him not run off to Canada and leave me like...this. I was such a mess. It wasn’t what boyfriends did, surely?
Gabe popped the lid off the cider and pressed the cold glass into my hand. “I’m going to find a thinking spot. Catch you two later.” With that, he strode over to the cluster of rocks he’d made the tent in last night and sat back on his elbows to soak up the sun.
“You okay?” Esmé put her hand on my bare thigh.
I took a big gulp of cider and squeezed my eyes shut. Being alone with Gabe in his little cabin that weekend, so isolated—we’d been spoiled. Now the people around us made a cage of barbed wire. “Just a bit hot. It’s baking out here.”
“That’s what you come to a beach for, Danni.” She smiled, teasing her finger along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
“I don’t tan like you,” I grumbled. “It’s not the same for pale girls.” “I like your pale skin, pixie.” “That’s because it’s awesome.” “I’m gonna go find some more juice, okay? Back in a sec.”
“I’ll be here.” More cider. I closed my eyes again. The sun ebbed away, the sand melted beneath my bare feet, and the world was just fizz, sugar, pear juice and the drunken twist of the alcohol that tickled my throat. When I blinked, Mum stood in front of me, clutching two fat burgers in napkins.
“Why don’t you take one of these over to Gabe?” she said.
“Um...okay.” I tucked the cider under my arm and took the burgers from her, trying very hard not to look elated. I forced the smile from my lips and crushed that spring right out of my step. As he saw me, Gabe raised his sunglasses, grinned, and eased up the rock to make space. Like he knew I’d be staying.
“Mum thinks I should be keeping you company,” I said.
He took the burger in both hands, checking beneath the bun for fillings. “If you’re going to bring me meat, I’m not complaining.”
“She reckons you’re all lonely and need sympathy food.” I tried not to giggle but it rippled out of me anyway.
“Well. I have been missing somebody this week.” He patted the space beside him and I climbed up onto the rock, a measured few inches from the heat of his body. “How very sweet of her.”
“It’s not really like Mum, is it?”
“No.” He snorted. “But maybe losing this Malcolm guy reminded her she’s got a few nice bones in her body.”
“Maybe.” I shielded my eyes; Esmé had walked back to look for me, and when she caught me next to Gabe, her pretty brow furrowed. She wouldn’t come over here, I knew that.
I should have hurried back over. But I didn’t.
“Esmé commented on me not being in bed last night. I told her some crap about being in the bathroom, but...”
He looked up from the burger he was about to devour. “Really? Shit. We need to be more careful.”
“We’ve only got four nights left.” I stared hard at my cider bottle, watched the bubbles rise to the surface and die as they hit the air. “It’s not long enough, Gabe.”
“I know, baby.” He dropped his voice to say these things, and we both knew it was risky to talk about them out in the open. But we were forbidden. This was something we could never have. If words were our only rebellion, bitter words it would have to be. “You like Canada?”
I shrugged. “Never been.” “Shame.” He smiled faintly. “Nice place for a gap year. Canada.” A prickly heat shot down my spine and unfurled at the base, making me sit bolt
upright. “Are you...are you being serious?” “I don’t know,” he said sadly. “Because it was only a few days ago that you were all resigned to running away
from...us.” “I changed my mind.” He exhaled. “I broke.” “What if we don’t get chance to be together, Gabe? What if you leave in a few days
and we haven’t...I mean...” “This,” he gestured to our cosy little chat position, “isn’t enough.” “No.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like that.” “It’s okay, Danni. That’s what makes everything so complicated, eh? That we need
the physical stuff.” He said need. Not want. Not it would be nice. Need. “I could take a gap year,” I said slowly. He nodded, looking ahead as if we chatted about the weather or something. “The
visas over there can be a bit complicated, but the people who’ve hired me might be able to help out. I mean, there are ways.”
“I don’t know what the hell I’d tell Mum. Or Esmé.” “If...if you were to come out there with me, like that, we’d manage it.” “Like that.” I pressed my lips together to stop the huge smile. “Like, a couple?” I
whispered. “Nobody would know, would they? We could be normal.” He glanced down. “If we
were in Canada now, I could hold your hand. Kiss you. We’d just be a gorgeous girl and some lucky old dude.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re not even thirty.” “Still older than you.” “You love it,” I shot back. “Yeah.” He went to touch me, but pulled his hand away. “I...I do.” “We should eat these burgers before we start looking suspicious.” I checked mine for
tomato; a big wedge sat squashed beneath the bun. When I looked back up, Taylor had accosted Esmé. “Esmé’s giving me evils.”
“She knows she’s going to lose you.” He took a bite.
“What? What do you mean?” I drew patterns in the sand with my toes while I waited for him to finish. “She doesn’t know about us. How could she?”
“Not that, baby. Just generally. She’s clingy, possessive. You said before; she’s always been like that. She probably knew the moment you started acting off with her or maybe even from the time you got together, but now you’re both going off to different universities...Danni. She’s a clever girl. Of course she knows she can’t keep you.”
I’d never thought about things like that before, but now it was so painfully obvious that I couldn’t look at either of them. Tears lanced the corners of my eyes. I might have fallen for Gabe, but there was a time not too long ago when I was crazy about Esmé and
even more than that, relieved to have someone to be crazy about. She did that for me, and I appreciated it—even if from her point of view, it was all a big heap of crap and lies.
“I did love her,” I said defensively. My voice cracked with the restrained tears.
“No, you didn’t. But you wanted to.” He brushed his palm to my knee very quickly. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Christ, you’re eighteen. Still figuring everything out.”
“Not everything.” I smiled again, despite the weeping that threatened. “Not you. I’m sure about that.” Chemically, my body hadn’t let me deny it.
“Tonight. We’ll try again tonight. Maybe a little earlier...depends when everyone’s in bed.”
“Okay.” Please. “But you need to be careful leaving. Don’t be gone too long this time.” “Not my fault I fell asleep,” I grumbled. “Frickin’ Taylor.” Gabe winced. “Never had him pegged as a stoner.” “We need to make sure he doesn’t end up back down here, doing that again,” I said.
“And maybe we should avoid the beach. We could go into the woods instead, meet outside or something.”
“Maybe.” He took another bite of burger and chewed slowly. “Let’s see how tonight pans out, and I’ll send you a text later, yeah? Just be sure to delete it straight after.”
“I will.”
“Now you better get back to Esmé before she burns straight through me with her evil eyes.”
I laughed. “I don’t know what’s up with her, sometimes. I mean, you’re privileged— you’re a bloke, but she actually likes you. Yet she won’t come over here and join in.”
He shook his head.
“It’s not like that,” I went on. “I think she just feels a bit threatened sometimes, like guys who watch us and get off on it are kind of intruding.”
“Because they weren’t invited to the party,” he mused.
“Precisely.” I slipped back off the rock and lingered in front of him, his feet almost brushing my calves. “Guess I’ll be heading back, then.”
“I’ll see you later.” He pressed his lips together in a very brief kissing pose. “And Danni?”
“Yeah?” I breathed. “Maybe...think about Canada, yeah?” “I will,” I promised. I will, I will, I will. Like a couple. Nobody would know, would they? It was like my heart grew a fifth ventricle full of liquor and crack.

Chapter Eleven

I couldn’t stop thinking about his letters. Our first kiss, the bead of sweat he tasted. The balmy Devon evening when he took my virginity. In heartache years, we’d been apart for at least ten; maybe that’s why after just two months, he was talking about running away together. Because that’s what it would be.
When he stopped writing and texting and calling, I thought it was because he stopped feeling. I blamed myself, though I knew it was irrational; I was the one who gave in, in the end. If I hadn’t decided to sleep with my not-uncle and cheat on my girlfriend, none of this awfulness would have happened and we’d be spared the void of never knowing what we could be. If we weren’t family, if I wasn’t with Esmé, if he wasn’t going away.
But now he wanted to remove an if. I could, if I grew balls big enough, take away another if with Esmé. Suddenly, I was playing for keeps.
And for three gorgeous words that he hadn’t even said. ***
Around ten o’clock, we finally dragged our barbecued-out asses back to the lodge. Gabe plied Taylor with beer after beer, and he ended up spread-eagled and snoring on our sofa. Mum passed out in a chair. Esmé wasn’t far behind, and another of my patented massages settled her in ten minutes flat.
I brushed my teeth. Put my hair up, retouched my makeup. Slipped into a clean dress and cardigan, and out of my bikini bottoms. The clock struck midnight and in true Cinderella style, I crept out of the lodge to find Gabe leaning up against his car. No words passed between us, not even smiles; he just reached for my hand and tugged me toward the woods.
The canopy of trees made the night thick like treacle. Bracken and old twigs snapped beneath our shoes. Gabe used his phone to light our way, and we followed the trail of pale glow like pixelated breadcrumbs. My hand felt so small in his. When we reached a snug little spot with a round, flat tree stump, he pulled me against him for a cool drink of a kiss.
“I scoped this out earlier,” he whispered. “We’re in deep enough to be safe, I reckon.”
Somewhere not too far away, young voices yelled and whooped. Our party might have ended, but for some, the night was just beginning.
I shoved him down on the tree stump and giggled as I straddled his lap. Then I wound my fists into his soft caramel hair and devoured his mouth again. We could make a little noise here, could be free...only the fabric of his shorts prevented him from entering me. Stupid, stupid shorts.
“Slow down, Danni.”
“No. I’m not waiting to be interrupted again.” I dragged his hand between my thighs and gasped at the way he probed me. “See what you do to me?”
“I love how you seem to keep losing your knickers.” His face moved along my cleavage in a hot-cold cocktail of stubbly cheek and kisses, and his thumb worked at me with slow, firm strokes. I wanted to keep still and just think on how wonderful it was to have him touch me, but no use. I bucked and writhed like a puppet on strings.
“It’s more convenient.” And I knew how much he liked it. Hell, we were already wrong enough. What was a little slutty behaviour thrown into the mix? What was wrong with any of it if it felt so unbelievably good?
In a fit of need, I shoved his hand away so I could pull open the button fly of his three-quarter shorts. He twitched in my palm as I squeezed.
“God.” He struggled for breath. “Do that again.”
So I did. Hard. He moaned into our wet kiss. We both knew what the other wanted, and with a twist of my hips, we were close enough. He thrust up, I slid down, and I shoved my face into his shoulder to muffle my yelps. Two months since I’d had him inside me and it was like losing my virginity all over again. I kept trying to contract around him and with every ripple, he felt bigger. This man, his flesh, his sea-liquor smell...only he could give me all of this.
“Good girl,” he mumbled into my neck. “You feel so fucking good.”
The world snapped in on us and everything else fell away; just me and Gabe and this spasming melt of shivers, just us and the air we stole breath after breath from as we moved.
We sped up despite our awkward position and the acid groan of my hamstrings. I turned the curve of his broad shoulder into a damp mess, exhaling and whimpering against it, hiding from a world that probably didn’t want us but suckered us into this anyway. Dark, dark, nothing and everything and him.
The ache of impending orgasm flushed heat through every limb, made me lighter, and I coiled and sprang on each stroke.
“Just think.” He sucked my bottom lip, let it go, sucked again. “If we went away, we could have this all.” Thrust. “The.” Harder. “Time.”
Oh—
“Gabe...please...” “I love you.” His words were staccato, like gunfire. “You...what?” He barely got the sounds out between gasps. “I love you.” There are all sorts of corny ways to describe orgasms. Fell off the edge, came apart,
blow your load, whatever. In Gabe’s lap, I split right down the middle as a shrieking flock of shudders fell out only to sink their hungry teeth into my skin. Over and over, I trembled. Moaned his name. He kept going until my inner thighs were sticky.
“I love you too,” I said finally. Triumphantly. “Always, always.”
Still panting, I pulled his head back and kissed his mouth raw. Only when he seemed to struggle, did I pull back.
“Danni,” he hissed. “Wha...?”
“Danni.”
I frowned at him. Wondered why he looked so spooked. Then it hit me like a smack around the head: a sob.
Behind us. A great, heaving girly sob. I shook as Gabe hurried my skirt back down. Every scrap of heat surged out of my
skin, leaving ice burns that only added to the trembling. “Well?” She whimpered. Her voice cut a haunting path in the dark. “Aren’t you
going to look at me?” Gabe swallowed. Urged me around. I climbed off, paused while he tucked himself
into his shorts, and closed my eyes as I turned. They were the longest five seconds of my life.
When I opened my eyes, I made out Esmé’s shape just two feet away. She wore her coat over tiny pyjamas. Next to her stood Taylor, shivering in his T-shirt. His mouth formed a thin, drawn line; if she was fury, he was empty. Blank.
“I don’t know what to say.” I’d been caught cheating...with my not-uncle. Exactly which bit of that should I panic about first?
Esmé began to weep again—full-on, shoulder-scrunching sobs. Taylor put a comforting hand on her arm and she threw it off like a bucking bull.
“Don’t you touch me!” she shrieked. “Don’t you fucking dare!” Leaves crunched as Gabe stood. He stepped in front of me, braced for a fight. “Esmé,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” “Sorry? You’re sorry? Oh my God.” She went to walk to me, but seemed to change
her mind. “How could you, with a man? With him? Do you have any idea how sick this is?”
“I kno—”
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” said Gabe, his tone surprisingly steady. “Or at least, not like that. Esmé, it wasn’t Danni’s fault. It was me, I—”
“You’re her uncle!” Taylor said it so scathingly, like we were a pair of moronic contestants on a grisly morning chat show. “I mean, what the fuck?”
Adrenaline still spiked my blood and my vision; Gabe’s hand sat protectively on my hip. In the space of a few minutes, our relationship had gone from dirty little secret to me and him against the world. Staring at Esmé and Taylor’s horrified faces, I didn’t think we could win this one.
“You said you loved me,” Esmé spat. “People in love don’t do things like this!” Gabe squeezed my hip. “They do.” Oh. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You sick fuck. I...both of you...” Her
bottom lip baulked again. “People go to prison for this stuff,” said Taylor. “You know that, right?” “Yeah.” Gabe gave a single nod. “Some people do. Danni and I aren’t related by
blood.” Not that it seemed to matter right now, despite the fact it could save everything. Esmé shoved past Taylor and before I could breathe, she had my hair in handfuls,
yanking it violently. The shock was electric. “And you don’t even have the nerve to speak to me? Talk to me. Talk. To. Me!” I squealed as she pulled at me, and it took Gabe several moments to get her off.
She’d barely got her breath back before she went for him, all claws and anguished grunts. When he retreated, his arms were scored with cherry scratches.
“That’s enough! Esmé. God. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“I do.” My own tears battled through, slimy on my cheeks. I clutched my sore scalp. “Es, I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’re not. But you will be. You will be.” With that, she tore off back toward the lodge, her footsteps punctuated by raw little sobs.
Taylor glanced between me and Gabe, and Esmé’s empty space. The moon hung low over the three of us.
“This is some messed up crap,” he managed, starting after her. “You better hope she doesn’t tell your Mum, Danni.”
I went to follow him, but Gabe tugged me back. If it was possible, he held me tighter than ever. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered. “I promise, we’ll make this okay.”
But the pulse that throbbed in my ears said otherwise. “You can’t promise. Not with this.”
He turned me to face him, and took my chin in his palms. “I can. I am. Fuck them all, Danni. We’ll be gone in less than a week.”
He didn’t say because we have no choice now, because we’re not welcome here, but the truth spiked its forked tongue at me anyway. Of course I wanted to be with him but I never realised quite how much it could cost.
“We should head back,” I said. “Yeah.” “Separately, in case she hasn’t told.” “Let’s hope so.” He began to lead me by the hand. “Or in case Taylor tells,” I added.
“He won’t.” Gabe squeezed my hand, but it didn’t help.
I pulled my cardigan around me, tried to ignore the cold, and traipsed back to the lodge to salvage what was left of my life.

Chapter Twelve

Empty bed. No Esmé. Great. I couldn’t find her anywhere. Mum was still drooling in the easy chair, her snores
and snorts peaceful. Mine and Esmé’s bed was unmade, which was unlike her...she left in a hurry. How the hell did she and Taylor know to come looking for us? It was obviously what they were doing. I mean, how had they even been conscious enough? They were passed out when we left.
Gabe stood outside his bedroom, his arms folded, gray eyes low. I peered out to shrug at him.
“Not there,” I mouthed.
He gestured over his shoulder, as if to suggest we look for her. I shook my head. Taylor wouldn’t let her get into any trouble, and she evidently didn’t want to talk to me. I checked around before blowing Gabe a kiss; he caught it, bit his lip, and mouthed I love you.
Then I climbed into bed, and insomnia’s sweaty fist leered down to squeeze. Exhaustion threatened after three nights of broken trysts, but no rest for the wicked.
Story of my life.
***
Somebody was rattling drawers. Throwing clothes about in little swishes. How inconsiderate—couldn’t they see I how tired I was?
The somebody battled tears; she whimpered and snarled at every object she threw into her suitcase.
Esmé’s suitcase. Que? FUCK. I lunged to sit up, and a hard can of deodorant smacked right off my forehead mid-
flight. Esmé winced as I yelped, but then the robotics took over again and she went back to packing.
“My dad’s picking me up in a few hours,” she hissed.
“Oh, Es. Don’t leave.” Because staying would make everything so comfortable...but what was I meant to say?
“You really think anything you say can make up for what I saw last night? You think I want to be anywhere near you and him?”
“I’m sorry.” My voice trembled. Tears stung as they welled in their ducts, as I rubbed the emerging lump on my head. “I never meant for any of this.”
“Yeah. Looked like it.” Her makeup bag landed in the suitcase with a clatter.
“Where’ve you been? I...I was worried.” “Bollocks, were you. And I was with Taylor. Turns out he’s good for something.” I glanced between dishevelled Esmé, and the door. “With him, with him?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” She sniffed. “Not all of us are just playing at being gay,
Danni.” “That isn’t fair.”
“Oh yeah. What was I thinking, offending your sweet, innocent sensibilities? The way I’m talking, anybody would think I saw you fucking your uncle!” she shrieked.
“Jesus! Keep it down!”
“Wouldn’t want anybody knowing that, would you?” She slammed the suitcase shut, panting as she locked the clasps. “Your filthy. Little. Secret.”
My forehead still stung. Esmé hauled her suitcase off the bed and yanked the door open.
“I’m going back to Taylor’s. If you so much as knock on the door, I’ll tell everyone about Gabe. Everyone.” She turned to look at me. Her eyes were ringed in pink, her nose red, her fingernails scraping along the plastic handle in nervous snares. “You’ve ruined everything. Everything.”
I recoiled back into the pillows as she stalked down the corridor. I heard her coarse little bleats of sobs at my Mum, and Mum’s comforting words back. The creak of the front door. What had she told people? Exactly how deep a hole were Gabe and I in?
My phone read seven thirty-two a.m.. A beautiful start to the day if there was one. But beneath all the crap and the panic, a hope stirred in my belly: Canada. An escape. The unknown. And Gabe, no doubt asleep at the end of the hall, with an empty pillow beside him, surrounded by shredded butterfly wings.
***
When I awoke again two hours later, it was because of the slanging match in the living area. Gabe and my mother. Oh God.
The dress I pulled on was a day old, but no matter. No time to brush my teeth. I padded toward the shouts and curses, a cool sweat emerging in uncomfortable places. Time to face the music (if the music sounded like an episode of Sons of Anarchy).
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Mum spat. Gabe sat hunched on the sofa, and she circled him like a vulture, last night’s makeup melted to smudges on her face. “Oh, hello, Danni. Decided to grace us with your presence, have you?”
I just loitered in the doorway, trying not to hyperventilate.
Gabe glanced up at me. Dark circles ate at his eye sockets; he hadn’t slept a wink. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt, no doubt to hide the scratches on his arms. “Danni. She knows.”
I nearly wet myself. Words balanced on my tongue, impotent and unmoving. “Knows...w-what?”
“About—”
“About you and that boy. About how this idiot—” She gestured to Gabe, “—has been covering for you. Helping you cheat on Esmé. Delightful, really, absolutely fucking
marvellous.” Me and a boy. Gabe helping? I glanced between them and didn’t know whether to
die of relief or embarrassment. “Oh. That.” “I sent you down to Devon to grow up, Danni. I didn’t realise stupidity was
contagious.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” “You’ve broken that poor girl’s heart. She’s in pieces. Trust me, I know how that
feels!” “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Sorry isn’t good enough. Sorry doesn’t cut it.” She jerked back to Gabe. “And you
should know better. Leading her on like that, letting her think this is okay. Do you enjoy screwing things up for people?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Would you like to know a few home truths about your Uncle Gabriel, Danni?” I trembled, still clutching the door frame. “Um.” “Sit down,” she barked. I didn’t dare disobey her, so I scuttled forward and cowered in the easy chair. Gabe
and I exchanged sombre, defeated stares. “We were here,” Mum went on, “on holiday. You were just a toddler really. Your
father and I were talking about getting married. His family lived here, see.” “My...” What? We had no pictures of my father. Mum always swore she didn’t even know his last name. I just got used to thinking that he was this faceless, absent sperm
donor, but now she told me he was around after I was born? “Excuse me?” “He had a sister, around Gabe’s age,” she said sadly. “And Gabe was always flirting
with her. Weren’t you? You were what, thirteen?” He grimaced. “If you say so.” The Earth Day girl? No freaking way. Mum folded her arms as she sat on the arm of the sofa. “He upset that girl one day. I
don’t know what he did, but she was humiliated. Things weren’t good between me and your father, Danni. He was a raging bull of a man when he got angry.”
“You’ve got to be joking, Jess.” Gabe laughed incredulously. “You can’t still blame me for him leaving.”
“I can blame you for being the straw that broke the camel’s bloody back!” This was why Gabe was the proverbial black sheep of the family? Seriously? “Danni,” Gabe croaked. “I didn’t make your father leave, I swear.” “You’ve got no idea what you did, you and your thoughtless, selfish behaviour,” said
Mum. “I thought maybe you’d matured a bit, but apparently not.” I was still reeling from the whole by the way, I know who your dad is, revelation.
Every new thought needed a deep breath and a blink. “Leave him alone,” I said. “What? Don’t tell me you’re defending him.” She stood up, put her hands on her
hips, and sneered in Gabe’s direction. “I think it’s best if you leave.” “What? Mum—”
“She’s right, Danni.” Gabe put his face in his hands and sighed. “I suppose I’ll get
going.” “No. Don’t leave. I don’t want you to,” I pleaded. He shot me a warning look as he
stood. Mum raised her eyebrows as he strode back to his bedroom. “It’s for the best.” “Mum, it wasn’t his fault!” And how the hell was I meant to spend the rest of the
week alone? “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. I don’t want to hear another thing about this
boy you’ve been sneaking off with, either. Christ.” She shook her head. “You know Gabe was only here to see you.”
I froze. Of course he wasn’t. Until I broke him, he was preparing to run away.
“Whatever happened between the two of you in Devon,” she went on, “was a mistake. My mistake, sending you there. He’s a bad influence. I didn’t realise you’d become friends.”
“I can be friends with whomever I want,” I snapped. “You can screw whomever you want too, Danni, but don’t expect me to like it.” Ouch. (Not that she’d like it any better if she knew who I was really screwing). “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about my dad.” “I told you everything you needed to know. He was a waste of space.” She wandered
over to the kitchen and filled the kettle with a shrill rush of water. “I was trying to keep you safe.”
“Safe? But you know his name, I could look him up, I—”
“Why the hell would you want to do that?” She slammed the kettle on to its stand. “He’s always known where we are, but has he ever turned up? No. That tells you everything you need to know.”
A lump formed in my throat, thick and rancid. This whole day was just lies and shit and disappointment. Everything I’d counted on in my life a few months ago—family, Esmé, my future—they’d been stripped away. I was bare bone and the air felt like sandpaper.
Furious, confused and shaking, I stomped over to Gabe’s room. Didn’t bother to knock. When I closed the door behind me and sagged against it, his eyes widened over his open suitcase.
“Danni. Jesus, she’ll—”
“I don’t care! You can’t leave me. Not here, not now.” The tears broke free, rushing down my cheeks like they rode into battle. Wet little soldiers. “They all hate me. I won’t stay on my own.”
“You’re not upset at me after hearing about that stuff? About your dad?” “He’s not my dad. I never had a dad.” “You don’t blame me...?” “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He clambered over and took my face in his hands, his voice low. “Thank God for that. Baby. I know it’s awful. But if we’re really doing this Canada thing, I have arrangements to make. All the visa stuff, a bigger apartment, flights...everything.”
I nodded through the tears. “Okay. But I...I mean, how...?” “Here’s what you’re going to do.” He pressed his damp forehead to mine, his wavy
hair soft on my face. I squeaked as he put too much pressure on my lump. “What the fuck happened to your head?”
“Esmé.” He frowned. “She attacked you?” “She got a bit overenthusiastic with her packing this morning. Anyway. You were
saying...” “You’re going to be a good girl for a few days. And then you’ll go home, call your
uni, and arrange to defer for a year because you’ve had the travel opportunity of a lifetime. Okay?”
“Right.” Though the thought of spending the rest of the week alone made my stomach churn.
“I’m going to talk to my new department about bringing you along as an assistant. I was meant to hire one over there and they have rules about stuff like that...but I might be able to wrangle something.”
I managed a smile. “What would I be assisting you on, Doctor Asher?”
“I’m going to be a fellow at a museum in Alberta. They have one of the largest Cretaceous plant collections there is. I’ve got a couple of research projects to manage there, and I’ll be teaching at the university. I could use a bright young mind for all my admin. So if you think you can handle a year of my eco crap...”
“I can handle it.” My smile grew, and I braved a little kiss, just brushed it over his lips. With him standing over me, his weight against me, the feel of lithe muscle beneath his T-shirt—almost everything felt better. For now. When he returned the kiss, it weighed heavy with promise.
“It’s hardly a party over there, Danni. You need to think about whether you really want that. It’ll be slower, quieter. And I won’t be around for you all the time.”
“I can deal. I can.”
“And I need to investigate the visa thing. You might have to fly back a time or two while it’s all sorted out...it’s all a bit short notice.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I yanked him closer by his short pockets, pushed my hands in and groped him through the fabric. I loved the way it made him chuckle. “We’ll be together. And I’m sure there are a few cool buildings in Alberta I can study, or something.”
“I’ll email you as soon as I have details, okay? It could be a few days. When I do, I’ll talk to your Mum.”
I sighed. “That’s if she’ll talk to you.”
He tipped my chin up so he could look me right in the eye. “I had no idea you weren’t aware about what happened with your dad. I’m sorry it’s all come out like this.”
“It’s not important.”
“Of course it is. And I swear to you.” He kissed my throat with a laving chase of tongue. “I didn’t push your dad away. Your Mum, she’s always been...”
“Melodramatic?” “It’s a sensitive subject.” He gave a bitter little laugh. “What the hell’s this story about me with a boy?” “Oh. Um. Es mentioned you being with a man, so I...filled in the blanks.” “Nice save.”
“Nice lie.” He sighed. “Some good me coming here has done, eh?”
“No. I’m glad you came. Gabe.” I nuzzled him. “You made me realise what I really want.”
“I made you change all your plans. Everything. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it.” He exhaled slowly. “Regretting me.”
“Even when I thought you’d used me,” I managed, “I never regretted you for a second.”
“You should have.” “I call bullshit on that one.” We kissed through tearstained grins, and it was the sweetest, most comforting
moment I’d had since his first beautiful letter. ***
I watched Esmé’s dad pack her up from the window. Gabe left before her, and already, our drunk little bubble of a world grew a stone skin. Mum had showered and changed, and stood with them to commiserate. God knows what she said. For her, the whole thing must have been humiliating.
Esmé hadn’t told anyone about Gabe. Why would she keep my secret? Was she in denial? Or was a bit of her still trying to protect her pixie, even when I’d turned out to be a sly little imp?
Taylor loitered by Esmé, his arms folded and his face blank. As they closed the car doors, he caught sight of me in the window and just blinked like I’d become a ghost he could look right through.
A ghost was a pretty good description of what I felt like that day. Gabe had gone, Esmé had gone, and my planned start at uni had almost fallen away. It was only Tuesday, so there were four nights before we went home and six until the flight to Canada. An earthquake had shaken our holiday, cracking it down the middle to leave me stuck in the void. Now I had days to climb back to the edge I fell from and the same amount of time to find the glue that would make everything better.
Time is a healer, all the cruddy old songs say. I kinda wished I’d listened to them better.
***
By the next morning, Mum still hadn’t said a word to me. Sleep locked me out, prodded me with manic laughter, and I barely scraped a few hours. I ended up at the crappy little café for breakfast where I accosted their Internet computer and spent an hour pretending to eat my bacon sandwich while I Googled Canada and flicked through my emails.
Esmé had already massacred Facebook. Her relationship status said single, much to the surprise and sympathy of the twenty odd people who commented below. Feels like the world has broken, she’d written, with a sad little emoticon beside it. I let the cursor hover over it for a second before I willed myself not to reply.
And I thought about my father. How could I not? Mum had protected me by lying, she said. But did lies really keep anyone safe? Hadn’t worked for me and Gabe; hadn’t worked for Esmé. I wished I had a name for the guy, a photo. Even if I wouldn’t have known where to start with it. I didn’t want to know the person who’d abandoned us, but I wanted to know the part of him that was like...me.
“Whatcha doing?”
I snapped around to see Taylor fiddling with the dark lens attachment on his glasses. He had a bottle of Coke tucked under one arm.
“None of your beeswax,” I muttered. Like he really wanted to talk to me after...well. He saw me having sex. Even the thought of it made my stomach roil.
“You on your own today too?” he said. “What’s it to you?” “Thought we could use a chat.” He tucked his glasses back on and shrugged. “Could
walk down to the beach or something.” “Why?” I tore a bit of bread off my uneaten sandwich, trying not to look suspicious. “I promise not to be mean, Danni.” He picked up my cardigan and held it out.
“Okay?” Gah. Fnar. Bah. Schner...oh, for crying out loud. “Okay.” I stood up, brushed the crumbs off my cut-off shorts, and he draped the cardigan
around my shoulders in an absurd display of chivalry. We were silent for a good few minutes, weaving around kids with buckets and
spades, enthusiastic grandparents, dads clutching newspapers who were grateful for escape. Several times, he looked ready to talk, but only breath spewed out when his mouth opened. When we reached the stone path to the beach, I gave in.
“So talk,” I said through my teeth. “I dunno what I’m meant to say, Danni.” “Anything. The weather. What you watched on TV last night. How many times
Granddad farted.” He tittered. “A lot. Barbecue brew.” “Bleugh.” “Yeah.” He glanced around us, shoved his hands into his pockets, and exhaled.
“What’s that thing on your head?” “You mean my classy Mount Vesuvius bruise?” I patted the round bump on my
forehead that had already turned three different shades of purple. “Esmé was chucking stuff around when she packed up.”
“I guess it’s over with her.” “You could say that.” “She was in a bad way.” He pressed thin lips together. “She slept in my bed, you
know.” “Lucky you.”
“She smells like marshmallows.” “You’re a raging pansy, you know that?” “Slept and sobbed and ranted. Wasn’t all that sexy, even if she did smell nice. But
yeah...she was in my bed.”
“Still a pansy.”
He glanced about, checking to make sure we were out of earshot. “If you keep being mean, I’m going to wait until you go to the loo and change your ringtone to that South Park song. How’s it go now? The one about being an uncle fucker.”
My pulse jumped. Fists balled at my sides. It took every ounce of self-control not to wallop him. “You are not funny.”
“Sorry.” He recoiled. “Seemed like the way to bring it up, humour and that.” “Well, it isn’t. So don’t.” We stepped through the beach gate and took our shoes off to pad down to the rocks.
It was half ten, and still quiet; a few residents walked their wet, barking dogs, and one family had set up a few wind breakers. The tide roved slowly in.
Taylor pulled himself up on the rocks overlooking the sea, and I sat a few inches away. He offered me the Coke, but I declined.
“I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” he said eventually. “What the hell were you doing there, Taylor?” “Um. Well. I kind of saw you go down to the beach that first night, and I wondered
why. And the second night, I was out in the woods about to light up...and I saw you again. So I followed you. Thought you went to the beach, but then I couldn’t see you there. I heard some noises but they were, you know...”
I winced. “Sex noises.”
“Er...yeah. But I was a bit stoned, and I was all like, no way is that Gabe and Danni.”
“Because that would be ridiculous.” He snorted. “Yeah.” “Carry on.” “At the barbecue, when you were talking to Gabe—it seemed a good way to start a
conversation with Esmé, asking why you were going to the beach at night, and why you and Gabe looked so cosy.”
Heat drained from my cheeks. “Oh God.” “Dick move. I know, okay?” This was what I got for leaving Taylor out, ignoring my instincts and letting Esmé
try to isolate him. Karma bus. “So what did she say?” “Not a lot, at first. Just asked me for beer. But then she was like, we have to pretend
to go to sleep and see if you guys skedaddle again. And you did tonight...so we followed.”
A seagull swept over us with a grating squark. It settled a few rocks away like it wanted to eavesdrop. I should have brought my bacon sandwich to throw bits for them... didn’t think. Would have been a nice distraction from Taylor and his front row tickets to the Awkward Show.
“We never expected to find what we did,” Taylor mumbled. “Didn’t even cross my mind. I figured you guys might have been smoking or drinking. Or I dunno, planning something. Just being all chummy.”
Leaving him out. “We were kinda chummy.”
“Yeah.” He snorted again, trying to contain full-blown laughter. “So I saw.” I put my face in my hands. “I can’t believe you saw me like that.” “I did need some brain bleach.” He scratched his chin. “Was even worse seeing
Gabe. Hearing—” “I get it.” I groaned. “There’s no need, really.” We fell into uneasy silence again. Dogs barked, owners yelled at them in lilting
Welsh accents. Kids squealed as the tide ate away at their forts and sandcastles. I didn’t bother scraping the wind-teased hair from my face; the urge to hide from the world was stifling.
“How does something like that even happen?” he said. “It’s weird. It felt weird...at first.” Taylor finished his Coke with a few wet gulps. “Do you, like, want to be with him?
As a couple?” I nodded.
“Woah.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Not going to happen though, huh?”
“We’re talking about it.” “But he’s going away,” he said, “to Canada and stuff.” I squinted at him in the yellow spill of sun. “Can you keep a secret?” “Another secret, you mean?” “Another, yeah.” “Is it worse than this one?” Even I giggled a bit at that. “Not really.” “Shoot.” “I might be going to Canada too.” He tossed the empty bottle from one hand to another. “Fucking hell.” “We’re trying to work it out.” “I want to wish you good luck, but...it’s so weird, Danni. And Esmé, I mean, she
didn’t deserve that.” “No. I know.” I sighed. “It all got stupidly complicated. I really never meant for it to
happen, and Gabe tried to end it too. But it wouldn’t go away.” I dropped my legs, swirling my toes in foamy turquoise water. Water is meant to be relaxing, isn’t it? This was the foot spa from hell. “I’m not sure it’s meant to go away, you know?”
“I suppose.”
“Thank you. For not telling, I mean.” And for not hating me, Taylor. For still being there.
“It’s not my place.” He glanced over, watched my feet. “Probably shouldn’t even have told Esmé. Sorry about that.”
“You weren’t to know.” “Anyway. In return, please don’t tell my Mum about the weed.” I threw a light elbow into his ribs. “I won’t. You big stoner. Just promise to stay
away from my ringtone, okay?” He began to sing that South Park song, his shoulders bobbing in a jaunty dance. “Taylor!”
“—Quite like you!”
With a deep breath, I shoved him right off the rocks and into the sea. He flapped around while the seagulls bellowed at him, coughing up lumps of salt water like a half- dead fish.
“This is revenge for that poor girl.” I clutched myself, laughing. “The one you chose the book over.”
He climbed back up, clothes drenched, glasses askew. Sea water flew from his nose. “Hardy ha ha.”
The email came on Friday.

Chapter Thirteen

When the familiar little ping sounded on my phone, I was curled up near the tree stump in the woods—a place I’d spent a lot of time those past few days. Half of me simmered with excitement, but the other half chastised that it was probably spam (as usual).
It wasn’t.
From: asher.gabriel@plymouth.ac.uk To: dannilovesdexter@gmail.com Subject: come fly with me Flight booked. No visa required for now, will sort when there. Looks like I have a new assistant ;)
Meet me at the Crown Plaza hotel at the airport, Sunday, any time after 2. Sooner you get there, longer we have all alone in a beautiful room...we fly 8am Monday.
Call your mother, call your uni. Maybe not the cavalry. Can’t actually believe we’re doing this. Danni, I love you from the bottom of my perverted heart. xxxxx
I pressed my face into my novel, trembled quietly, and then wept hot, stinging tears of relief into the yellow pages.
***
In hindsight, the drive home was probably not the time to tell Mum about Canada.
She switched the radio off and glared at me in the mirror (the back seat felt like a refuge, since we still weren’t talking, really).
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” “I did a lot of thinking this week,” I said, “and I’m going to take a gap year.”
She sniffed. “To do what? Work?” “Gabe says I can go to Canada with him.” That did it. She practically frothed at the mouth. “You’re not serious, Danni.” “Canada sounds pretty cool,” I mumbled. “Don’t be like him. Don’t run away just because you’ve had a hard time recently—” “What d’you mean? Gabe—” “I’m not talking about him.” She sighed. “I’m talking about your father.” I knew nothing about my dad, but was ninety nine percent sure he never switched
continents because he fell in love with a hot relative. “Mum. That’s really low.” “Your behaviour this week has been nothing but low,” she hissed. “I’m eighteen, not five. God. Haven’t you ever made a mistake in your life?” She ignored me, yanking the gear stick and staring through the windscreen. “I leave for the airport tomorrow lunch time,” I said. “Do you really trust him to take care of you? Really?” I wanted to shout he’s never lied to me, not like you! But it sounded so petty and
childish, and there I was, about to go off in the world like somebody so much older. And Mum might have been a bitch half the time, but I didn’t want to leave on bad terms. I knew she was right when she talked about protecting me, even if I didn’t always understand it.
“Gabe’s not like that,” I said. “Not when you get to know him.”
“You talk like you have some twisted little crush.” She bit her lip. “Danni. At least take a while to think it through. I know it sounds exciting but a year is a long time, and Canada is a long way to go. If anything goes wrong, I can’t just drive out to get you.”
“I leave for the airport tomorrow at lunch time,” I repeated. “I’ll tell you.” She swallowed. “Stay, and I’ll tell you who your father is.” I said nothing.
***
It was late afternoon on Saturday by the time we got home. I had less than twenty- four hours to pack, sleep...and resolve a little unfinished business.
My room was littered with Esmé’s things: CDs from favourite bands we shared, clothes that still smelled like her sweet shop perfume, unfinished novels with their pages turned down. Silly pens with theatrical feathers. This was the part I dreaded most of all, but Esmé deserved to get her stuff back. Deserved to know where I was going, too.
She only had older siblings and they didn’t live at home. I knew her parents played Bingo every Saturday teatime. I leaned against a tree opposite her house and waited for their silver Toyota to pull away before I hauled the box of Esmé’s things over. Her doorbell squealed when I pressed it and a great heap of memories struck me right on the bruised forehead with all the force of a grand piano. The first time I’d visited, it took me so long to work up the guts to ring that doorbell; still, I felt the prickle of nerves as I waited to see if she was home.
All of that felt so stale now. Vacant. Lost.
The version of Esmé in the doorway looked like she felt the same way. Dressed in her old hockey uniform, hair unstyled, eyes still red; oh fuck. What had I done to her?
“I—I brought your stuff back,” I stammered. What an idiot.
“I don’t want it,” she said blankly. Like I was a hologram and she barely remembered my name.
“I wondered if we could talk for a second.” I stepped from foot to foot. “Just a second.”
“You’re not coming in.” She took thick, hissing breaths through her teeth, as if she opened too wide, something horrible might escape. “So talk.”
I put the box at her feet and stepped back. “I know it doesn’t mean much...but God, I really am sorry.”
“So am I.” She gazed at my battered old trainers. “And I know I don’t deserve this, but Es...please don’t tell anybody what you saw.” Her little blond eyebrows shot up, but she still wouldn’t look at me. “You think I
want to do you a favour?” “No, but—”
“I haven’t told anyone because it’s bad enough that you cheated. But Danni, you were with your—your un...” She couldn’t say it. Even when she shook her head to loosen the word, it wouldn’t come. “I just don’t want to think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” I pressed my lips together. “Thank you.” “It’s not for you,” she snapped. “I know. It’s not what I meant.” We stood there in the doorway, avoiding each other’s eyes. Our uneven breaths
merged in an odd rasp of a symphony. I’d gone on holiday as Danni: Lesbian Architect and come home the queen of pseudo-incest and awkward silences. Score, eh?
“I’ve deferred my course,” I blurted out. “What? Why?” “I’m taking a gap year. Going...travelling. Need to get my head sorted.” “You’re going away?” she whimpered. I nodded. As much as I hated to tell her another lie, I had to keep Gabe a secret.
There was too much on the line now, and what good would it have done for her to know? “You really don’t want to be with me,” she said, her voice cracking. “Oh, Es. It wasn’t like that. I loved all my time with you—” “But not me.” She sniffed. “You didn’t love me.”
“I did.”
“Then stay.” A single tear caught the light on her cheek, pouring a tiny shadow as it fell. “Pixie...please.”
“I really can’t. I’m sorry.”
She kicked her box of belongings out of the way and threw her arms around me. Her hug was so soft, so familiar. The tears pricked my eyes too.
“I don’t want you to go,” she wept. “All sorts of horrid things happen to people who go travelling like that, it’s not worth it...” She pulled back and brushed the hair from my forehead. “Gosh. Look what I did to you.”
“Purple’s not really my colour, is it?”
She laughed. “No. Fashion fail.”
I gave her a squeeze before teasing her slim little fingers away, though they felt like lead weights. “I screwed things up with us. You deserve someone a lot better than me.”
She glanced down at the heap of artifacts from our funeral pyre of a love affair. “I know you did. But loving you doesn’t go away.”
God, I knew that. I knew just how that felt—but not with her. “Not even after what you saw?”
“No. That’s how I know I love you, Danni.”
I stared into her wet, glassy eyes, and wanted to tell her I knew how that felt, too. Even the words left unsaid between us were painful, let alone the ones we were brave enough to voice.
“I suck,” I mumbled.
“You don’t.” She scooped up the card box and hugged it to her chest. “God, pixie, take care of yourself. If you get murdered by some weird tribe or drug dealer, I’m gonna hunt you down and kill you all over again.”
“I’ll haunt your ass. Beat you to it.” “Maybe,” she said softly. “Truth is, you kinda haunt me already.”
***
I said goodbye to my room.
It seemed silly, in a way. I’d probably be back in a few months while all the visa stuff was sorted out, and besides, I’d planned on moving away soon, even if just to uni. But Mum was right—Canada, what with it being squillions of miles from here, was that bit farther to go. Or to travel home.
Except I was about to make a new home with Gabe. He’d already texted me a picture of our new apartment; bijou, he called it. Which I’m pretty sure meant poky, but so long as it had a bed to call ours, who the hell cared? Couldn’t get much worse than his shed- slash-cabin in Devon, though since we made those gorgeous memories there, even that place didn’t seem so bad. And it had no Internet. Or phone signal.
Weeks ago, when Gabe said he was coming to see me, I’d bought new underwear for the occasion. Esmé loved lacy things and I owned loads of that, but this needed to be different, like thinking about him while I chose made everything sexier. Three hours of shopping later, I’d come home with a jade green push-up bra and matching boy shorts that said give peas a chance across my ass. He’d love them.
Tomorrow, I’d finally get to show them to him. We had an anonymous hotel room in an anonymous corridor and nobody would care what we did there. We could be noisy, naked, shower together afterwards. Kiss in the hall. Every new thought spiralled through me in a hot wave of excitement, and only my nerves kept my fingers out of my knickers.
Then there was the other thing: my father.
It’s a weird word, isn’t it? Father. Like farther or further, mine had always felt far away—to the point where he just hadn’t existed. So despite Mum’s offers of dinner or a walk, I spent my final night in our “poxy little house” alone in my room, watching the sun fall behind the tower blocks until shadows peeled off my empty walls. I drank my
way through a bottle of Mum’s red wine and pondered the dilemma she’d given me: stay, and I’ll tell you who he is.
Maybe if the choice had been easier, I’d have broken. I’d spent adolescent hours wasted in curiosity, Googling random terms and names with the few details I had; that Danni would have chosen to know who her dad was.
But then I wasn’t that Danni any more.
This Danni had learned you couldn’t cheat and lie your way to a happy ending; this Danni had learned what happy endings cost. You sure as hell paid in advance. But for Gabe, I so easily paid it, and we’d come so far now. My temples roiled with anticipation and my fingers itched with promise.
We were so close to getting our wings back and learning to fly.

Chapter Fourteen

Mum cried at the train station. We stood in a corner by the platform, her eyes pleading and mine narrow in shame. God, like there hadn’t been enough tears in my life recently.
“You’re sure about this?” she said quietly. I took a great gulp of petrol-flavoured station air. “I’m sure.” “And you thought about what I said? My offer?” “I thought about it.” “You don’t want to know?” She was rigid and defensive in her fluffy black coat. “If you’re asking whether I want the name of someone who was never there for me
instead of a future full of people who are, then...no. I don’t.” She hugged me so suddenly and so hard that it took me a moment to return her
embrace. My chest heaved against in peaky little shudders; oh God. I was going to cry, too.
“I’m sorry it’s that way for you, Danni. I’m sorry I tried to give you the choice.” “I know you didn’t mean it that way.” “I don’t know how I meant it. Christ. You’ve shocked me a couple of times lately.”
She smiled through her tears. I was so glad she didn’t know the truth. A robotic voice announced the arrival of my train from the speaker above, and a moment later, it whirred toward the platform. Other travellers said their goodbyes and
gathered their suitcases; Mum and I just stood there, holding each other. “Any time you want to come home, you just call me, text me, anything,” she
managed. “I will. Thanks.”
“Take care. Have fun. Enjoy yourself.” She smothered my hair with a cool hand.
I hauled up my big purple suitcase, which stuffed to bulge at the seams (even though I’d left half my clothes behind because they were purchased on sprees with Esmé, and were stitched and soaked in things I wanted to forget). Then I gave her one last squeeze.
“I’ll let you know when we get there,” I promised.
“You better.” She stood back, nodded, and watched as I climbed on to the train. When it pulled out of the station, I left a little shred of myself behind and I felt it.
It took two and a half long, travel-sick hours to reach the station, and since Saturday night had been another sleepless stretch, I could barely keep my eyes open.
The sight of Gabe in the hotel lobby was like a shot of adrenaline stabbed right in my chest. Amid the buzz and clatter of the clean, modern hotel, he stood like a rock in a blistered rush of river: tall, sturdy, hair tucked behind his ears. His usual surfy T-shirt, this time paired with cargo pants. The ocean-whipped scent of him hit my nostrils before I reached his side.
“Good trip?” The grin split his face, made the corners of his eyes crinkle. So
gorgeous. “I’m knackered,” I admitted. He brushed the base of my spine just gently as he ushered me into the lift. “Not too
knackered, I hope,” he whispered. I said nothing, but I blushed hard. He’d booked a large hotel room, and the king-size bed clad in white sheets took
centre stage. A widescreen TV loomed from one wall, and a desk littered with textbooks and files sat in the corner. His suitcase, spilling with its usual disarray, lay slain beside the sofa. Was there anything lovelier than a room slathered with Gabe?
“You like?” He came up behind me as I stared out of the window, and wrapped strong arms around my waist.
“Stunning view of the...tower blocks. And aircraft hangers.”
“Cheeky mare.” He pulled the hair from my shoulder and dropped his mouth to plant a sucking kiss. “Soon, we’ll be able to look out of our window and see mountains.”
“In Canada?”
“Yep.” He slid a hand under my T-shirt and caressed my stomach. Skin on skin... we’d had so little of that. “Just you, me, and the big bad world.”
“And bears. They have bears there.” He laughed. “Not in the cities, baby.” “My Mum.” I swallowed. Had to talk about this with someone, and how here I
was...with my best friend. “She told me if I stayed, she’d tell me who my dad was. Is.” I frowned. “Was.”
He glanced down. “Must’ve been tempting.” “A little.” “But here you are.” I nodded. “Here I am. With you, like I want to be. We’re really doing this.” “O, brave new world, that has such things in it.” He turned me. Shoved me right up
against the wall beside the window, nearly pulling down the curtains in the process. Gabe’s mouth on mine, his tongue curious, his thigh shoved up between my knees...ah, I’d missed this so very badly. He knew everything I needed and then some, but it was the some part that made my nerves go soft at the edges.
“If you’re going to quote Shakespeare at me,” I mumbled into his warm neck, “I may have to suck you.”
“Oh, Jesus, Danni. I’m not stopping you.”
I was totally proud that I’d recognised Shakespeare, but three times as tingly that he wanted me to do this for him. I slid to my knees, ignored the slight gristle of carpet, and tugged down the straining zipper of his fly. If it was up to me, I’d have him right then, but he stepped out of his clothes hurriedly.
“Better this way.” He panted. “We can take everything off if we want to in here, babe.” And he did want to. So did I. I leaned in to inhale the clean, hot scent of him, and remembered the naïve little things I’d said the first time we had sex; can we take our clothes off here? I plan on it, he’d chuckled.
Back then—and it seemed so long ago in desire-steeped minutes—I was the student, and he the teacher. I had more confidence now, and it wasn’t the physical kind.
I love you.
Gabe scooped my hair up in fistfuls. He knew just the angle to tip my chin to, just the pace to make my mouth open enough to take all of him. I curved my tongue around his head to catch all the sweet spots, and with every thrust in, his curses grew louder.
I hadn’t known how he would taste, but it was vague; like a glass of water left to warm on the window ledge. Soon, I’d remind him how I tasted. I’d lie back and spread myself, let him get a good look at exactly what he was throwing on a plane as his.
“Danni...” He caught my chin to still me, the breath spewing from behind his teeth. “God knows, I want to come like this...but I want you to be first.”
I teased him with my tongue. “I don’t mind.”
“I do.” He pulled me up by the shoulders for a slow kiss. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
At those words, every muscle in my pelvis lurched inward. I giggled like a drunk as I yanked my skirt down and then fell on the bed as I kicked off my shoes. Gabe appeared behind me, smoothing his big hands across my buttocks.
“Give peas a chance,” he read, laughing. I wiggled my hips at him. “You like? I picked them just for you.” “I do.” He peeled the gusset away from my flesh and patted me there. I yelped. “Nobody gets ready for me like this,” he murmured. “Nobody but you.” Then he
helped me out of the knickers and tossed me on to my back. I landed on cool sheets with an empty thud of tired mattress.
Gabe came over me, naked, balanced on his hands and knees. I nudged through his cascade of dark blond hair to find the mouth so adept at kisses. I didn’t know what I needed more; to be made his, or just held until my ribcage caved and there was nothing but a bloody heap of me. I’d been reduced to similar, denied this for so long, and all my pieces needed gluing back together.
“The way you came on me the other night,” he whispered. “It was beautiful. We should’ve found a way to do this sooner.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Not now, no.” He took his teeth to my nipples, grazing the tiny, stiff peaks. “We’ve been lucky.”
I grinned down at him. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right now.”
“Mmm.” He worked down to the spread of my thighs, where I lay wet and open for him. Prepared for his want. I felt sticky in the cool air, but the heat of his tongue soothed that, ushered a new ache.
Before, he encouraged me to just use him, get myself off. This time, his fingers stayed away from the depths of me; he just toyed with the lips. Pinched. Pulled. Stroked around the edges. I wet him anyway, and when his fingers grew damp enough, they finally touched me inside.
“Gabe—” “Shh. Let me touch you here. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.” “O-okay.” My thighs trembled as he kept up the pressure on my clit, and the rest of
my body began to shake as he eased a finger in. The finger flexed inside me, searching for the right spot. Another hip wriggle helped him to find it. Then he circled the soft
pillow of flesh there, pressing in, rolling over. I didn’t recognise my own voice when it made those feral sounds.
After a moment or so, he returned to my clit where his free hand peeled my flesh back so he could eat the bud whole. If we’d been out in the woods then, I’d have scared the animals—I just got so loud. He felt good—so good that I begged him to fuck me— but it was more than that. Months of deprivation, desperation. Now he finally had me, and this tease...so cruel.
When the begging got too much for him, he kissed his way up my belly, laid a sucking bite on each breast, and lifted my thighs with the sweep of an arm. I teared up. What the hell was wrong with me? Just the relief of the manoeuvre, the knowledge he’d be in me soon—
Oh. Ohohoh. Maybe it was the way he held my legs right back, the careful in-and- out roll of his hips, the euphoric give inside me with every new thrust, but just ohohoh. Like that. Faster. Pleaseplease. Right there, please there...
We grew sweaty together. Burned calories and bad memories. I’d never felt so wet in my life; between my thighs, the beads that dripped down my breasts, the sheen of damp on my belly. Even beneath his tan, his cheeks flushed with the effort to please me, and pleasure was a paradox of an orange, wrung in greater quantities the longer we twisted and juiced. After a while, those strong fingers of his crept back to tap my clit soundly, and the burst of my orgasm sent my bunching fists for the sheets.
Though I couldn’t see it, I knew he bit right down on his lip while he came. This, this, this. We’d waited two months. Finally: dark, dark, nothing and everything and him.
Then came the sweetest part of all: lying in his arms, our skin stuck together by sweat and sex, his breath pouring down to make my nipples peak. When you’re just desperate to have that person inside you, you forget this bit. And then it happens and it’s the best. Thing. Ever.
“Do you think this is enough?” I whispered. “Hmm?” I rolled over to stroke the hair from his eyes, his pupils still black and swollen. “All
this. For Canada, living together, everything.” “What else is it you think that we need?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Time, I guess.” “To know each other.” He kissed my upper lip. “I know you. I spent hours on the
phone exploring you, even if we didn’t get that much time in the flesh. And God knows, what with our situation...do you think I’d take such a risk for anything less?”
“I’m not getting cold feet. It’s not that. I just don’t want to let you down.”
“Baby. Let me tell you.” He wound his arms about me tighter, gave me a squeeze. “We’re going to go over there, and we’ll just be two people in love. We’ll make new friends, and have our own place with our own things...”
“And eat road kill moose while we listen to Celine Dion.” I giggled. “Sounds pretty damn perfect to me.” “Can we barbecue the moose?” “Whatever you want.”
“Can we barbecue Celine Dion?”
“As a matter of public service.” He slowed for a real kiss, a hungry one. “You give me somewhere to belong, do you know that?”
I nodded. In the family he resented, he’d found something deeper. We weren’t just lovers anymore; we’d fused to become a time, a place.
“We’ll have to tell Mum one day,” I said quietly.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And from Canada...it’s a long fucking bridge.”
***
The airport thrummed with a hundred different accents, a dozen languages, a pantheon of muted skin. Flight 742 left for Canada in eighty-two minutes, said the loudspeaker, and the staff at the luggage check-in mucked up and called me Mrs Warren twice.
I blushed with heat and panic, but Gabe squeezed my hand and just gave them a nod. Before I switched my phone off, it buzzed with a text. Take care of each other. & send me a postcard or something. Tay x I bashed in a quick thank you, gave Gabe my hand luggage, and we walked on into
the duty free. After I’d assaulted the pick’n’mix stand, we stood against the lounge windows and watched planes launch into foamy clouds. I thought about how Gabe screwed everything up for himself (and my Mum, apparently) on Earth Day, how he’d been performing a kind of life conservation ever since. And I thought about how if my dad had stuck around, my life would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have been standing here with my not-uncle at an airport, about to board a flight to a life with new skin.
“Come here.” Gabe pulled me into his arms. I was hesitant for a moment, but then I realised: we could do this here. Anything we liked. Nobody knew. And my grin was as wide as his.
Gabe kissed me, his hands in my hair and his teeth at my lips. Teeth belonged in our kisses, reminded us of the edge we teetered on so long until we found the courage to run and soar. As we drew back, the notes of a familiar tune spilled from the radio speakers: my favourite band, my favourite song.
I won’t end, I won’t break, I won’t fall.
Another plane took off and the air roared through its engines. It spewed white lines in the sky, and with Gabe’s cheek on mine, we traced them along the glass.
No butterflies screamed. We’d survived, grown wings, and were about to truly fly.

EPILOGUE

July 2nd 2013

Alberta is a lot sunnier than I’d expected. Even in the winter, the sun slops down like syrup to coat the tops of the mountains and bounce off the glassy surface of the snow. Don’t get me wrong—it gets frickin’ cold here—but for me and Gabe, we’ve gone from a twisted summer to an eternal summer. I like that irony. It’s a sentiment made for a song.
We still don’t have a song. Couples are meant to have those, aren’t they? But then we’re not your average couple. What we do have is a brand-spanking-new apartment, though, and right now I can’t walk fast enough to get home to it.
I make this walk through the city a couple of times a week, right along the North Saskatchewan River. There are quicker routes from work but this one is just so gorgeous —trees with greener leaves than I thought possible, thick and lush in their wide shadows. The water looks cerulean in the sun and the air smells like timber and mud. As soon as we arrived, I knew Gabe hadn’t chosen Canada to run away. The place was just too beautiful.
I’m still Gabe’s assistant, though it takes up little of my time. Once my work visa (finally) came through and I was established at the museum, I wrote to a bunch of architecture companies and begged them to let me do work experience. One office with a penchant for English accents gave me an admin job. It’s all going rather well.
Our new apartment is in a little complex not far from the river and the national park. We only moved from our last place—which was tiny—over the weekend, and Gabe’s been using holiday time to decorate. When I get in, he’s balancing a paintbrush in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
“Nice paint job.” I grin, gesturing to his emulsion-strewn overalls. “Not exactly a wet suit, is it?”
“I was tempted. It’s been a while since I had an excuse to wear it, eh?” He sets down the mug and the brush. “Where’s my honey-I’m-home kiss?”
“Where’s my dinner? I thought you were playing house husband this week.” I drape my coat over a chair and wander into our new wide, open space. The roof is high, the windows tall, and a gleaming white kitchen sits pristine in the corner. “Is that a pizza box? You cheat!”
“That was my lunch.” He unzips the overalls and wriggles out of them, revealing his trademark T-shirt and board shorts. “Thought dinner could be a floor picnic.”
I kick off my heels—yep, I now wear heels—and pad over to him, wrapping my arms around his narrow waist. “Thank you for painting. And for trying to get out of cooking in a sweet but lazy fashion.”
He nips my bottom lip, his tongue tracing the edge of it. “You talk to your boss about uni?”
“There may be visa issues. But otherwise...yeah. Good to go.” His smile warms his whole face. “Have I told you how very proud I am?” “Yeah. But tell me again.” My boss says that if I stay for another year, they’ll send me to university here. I can
still train to be an architect...but Gabe and I aren’t going anywhere. We’re home.
“I am so very proud,” he murmurs, “that you’re clever enough to earn that.” “And other things.” “And other things.” He pauses, toys with the buttons on my neat shirt. “That you
were brave enough to be with me. That we came here, that we’re still here, despite what everyone would have said if they knew the truth.”
We don’t talk much about this anymore; our friends here don’t know Gabe is my step-uncle, and though it’s not nearly as taboo as if he were my real uncle, people still judge. They don’t understand. We do, and there’s rarely a need to vocalise it.
“But this thing we have here,” he says, “you don’t have to earn that. You never did. You walked up to me on that dirt track a year ago and it was just there.”
I squeeze him, stroke my palms along his spine and down to the backs of his thighs. “I’m glad.”
“Me too, Danni.”
We took such a big risk when we moved away together. We’d barely known each other for two months. But it hurt so much every time it ended—every time it was threatened—and just like the song said, I knew it was right when was so painful so young.
I stand on my tiptoes to give Gabe his requested kiss. One turns into another, and we linger together in the space we’ve made our own.
“How long until you finish painting everything?” I say.
He glances around, his head cocked and his fringe obscuring silver eyes. “A couple of days, maybe?”
“So it will be all done when Mum gets here?” “Absolutely. She won’t be able to whinge about a thing.” “Even the guest room?” “Even the guest room.” I plant a little kiss on his chin. “Thank you for inviting her.” “It’s about time.” “Huh.” I spot the pizza menu beside his paint pot on the floor, and reach to fill my
eyes with cheesy goodness. “I’m totally ordering more, you know.” He winces. “I’m not sure I can face more pizza. Is that even normal for a bloke, do
you think?” “Probably not. But you get all guilty if we can’t fit the boxes in with the recycling
and that’s not especially masculine, either.” I wave the menu around before brushing my lips to his collarbone. “I need to stockpile calories. I’ll be a nervous wreck when Mum arrives.”
“It’ll be fine,” he whispers. “I promise.” “I hope so.”
It’s been a surreal year. We moved to Canada, I flew back and forth until my paperwork was all finalised, I got two jobs. Gabe got this awesome paper published and they extended his contract at the museum. Taylor and I exchanged about ten postcards. Facebook even tells me Esmé has a girlfriend, some foxy redhead with a tattoo across her back—they look sickeningly happy and I’m so pleased for her, though we’ll never be in a place where I can tell her that.
Not that I think she needs to hear it. I still haven’t Googled Turnip Jesus...but I’ve threatened to a few times. “Changed my mind. I want pepperoni,” Gabe announces, brandishing his paintbrush
again. “I’m going to devour it like a man.” “Ra ra.” I giggled. “Lord of the Man-Or.” “So stop panicking and order my frickin’ meal, woman.” “I’ll give you woman.” I’ve given him so many things in a year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty
five days. Our apartment is our celebration, but the next step is honesty. In two weeks, my Mum arrives. Gabe gives my hand a squeeze. “You okay?” “Fine,” I say. “Awesome.”
We’re going to tell her the truth.

About The Author

Lucy V. Morgan is an author, editor and screenwriter from Birmingham, UK. She lives amid a graveyard of half-burned Yankee candles and is still trying to kick her dirty Pepsi habit.
You can visit her online for free stories and updates at www.lucyvmorgan.com.

Other Books by Lucy V. Morgan

Chairman Of The Whored 
The Whored’s Prayer 
Beautiful Mess

About the Author:

Lucy writes sharp contemporary fiction, usually with a liberal splatter of filth. She is a Lyrical Press author and a screenwriter.

Her upcoming new adult novel, TWISTED SUMMER, is a gutsy take on forbidden love starring an even gutsier heroine.

Her contemporary series, encompassing CHAIRMAN OF THE WHORED and THE WHORED'S PRAYER, features slick London lawyers with a penchant for sensual violence. It's definitely on the darker side. BEAUTIFUL MESS, her current release, is a snarky, sexy friends-to-lovers romp.

Lucy is currently working on new novels, and is developing a paranormal television series with producers (think The Vampire Diaries meets The 4400).

She is still trying to kick her dirty Pepsi habit.

Find Lucy on: Twitter | Website

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