Sixteen ~ Temporary

The storm passed, but my conflicted feelings didn't. Days went by, and I refused to return to the beach, even when I realised I'd left my book there. I needed time away to process the heated moment with Brent, to come to terms with the traumatic incident, and to get over the awful memories that had resurfaced from witnessing it. The longer I kept my distance, the harder it became to go back.

Unsurprisingly, the incident made headlines. Camberley was a town with few notable events, so this represented a golden opportunity for the local news team. Mum asked if I'd known about it. When I admitted to being the person who'd called the ambulance, a proud smile crossed her face, and that brief acknowledgement of approval almost overpowered the horrors of it. Almost.

At ten o'clock on my fourth day of remaining inside the house, the sound of a knock drifted up from the garden to my balcony. Assuming it must be a delivery for Mum, I trotted down the stairs and fumbled with the lock to open the door.

It wasn't the postal service. It was Brent.

"Uh, hey," he said, looking uncharacteristically awkward. "I wanted to return this."

He held out my book, its pages crinkled from their wet episode in the rain. Taking it from him, I smoothed my hand over the cover, as if that would somehow return it to its original state.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem. I thought you'd be coming down to the beach and was planning on giving it to you then. Is everything all right?"

Awkwardness lingered between us, a shared sense of discomfort so different to the many emotions experienced in the hut last week.

"Everything's fine," I said, because I could hardly tell him the truth.

I glanced towards the beach instead. Like most days, the sea appeared deceptively calm, but it still brought a queasy feeling to my stomach.

"I'd best get back, anyway. I just wanted to give you the book and, uh, thank you for your help the other day. You played a vital part. And I hope I didn't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. You know, before."

Words caught in my throat at his sincerity. Seconds later, though, he'd strode away along the path, disappearing down the narrow steps. Such a genuine acknowledgement from such a distant person meant a lot.

~~~

"So, how are things with you?" I asked Mia.

To escape from my self-induced prison, I'd gone to Mia's for an evening of drinking. Sensible drinking this time. We'd both had enough recent experiences to deter us from over-indulging.

After pulling a face at my question, Mia took a sip from her glass. Following suit, I allowed myself to taste a drop of the alcohol that I'd not yet touched. The cool liquid flowed into my mouth, the sweetness of the wine making my tongue tingle.

"I regret it," she said. "I regret it so much."

"Have you still not talked to him? It's been over a week."

"Yeah, but we've never really texted or anything. I mean, we have messaged each other in the past, but more to arrange something, not for chit-chat."

"And you were hoping he'd text to clear the air?"

She shrugged. "Was that too much to expect?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. He's probably just as confused as you, and he's scared to talk about it."

"This makes me nervous about us doing anything else, though. I don't want to feel this way every time we hook up, or even if we don't. That's not fair. If he wants a casual thing, we can talk about that. If he wants something more serious, we can talk about that, too. If he wants nothing, fine. But I can't deal with not knowing."

"Absolutely. You can't avoid each other forever, anyway. When you see him next, make sure the conversation happens."

"Speaking of avoiding things forever... Have you ventured back down to the beach?"

I looked into my wine glass and swirled the liquid around, ashamed to admit I hadn't. We might have only known each other for a couple of months, but Mia didn't need me to answer.

"You'll never conquer your fear if you don't go back," she said. "And besides, Brent is there constantly. He wouldn't let anything happen to you."

My stomach quivered at the mention of Brent. How could I tell her the other reason I'd been avoiding the beach without it sounding like a big deal? Saying it out loud was like acknowledging it as true, and I wasn't ready for that yet.

"You all right?" She frowned, leaning towards me and lowering her voice, even though we were alone. "Has something happened with Brent?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Something like what?"

"I mean, you've not got along, but I assumed half the problem was that you were attracted to each other but didn't want to be because of, you know, his issues and your boyfriend."

"Oh, come on, Mia."

"Don't get defensive with me." She raised her hands in a demonstration of innocence. "Brent's an attractive guy, and I wouldn't blame you for acknowledging that."

Silence engulfed us. She'd put it out there, right in the middle of the table, for me to either deny or disclose.

I chose denial.

"I'm going to miss everyone here when I go back."

Although trying to be diplomatic, my head spun with conflicting emotions—from Mia and my London friends, to Brent and Alastair.

"You must be looking forward to seeing Alastair, though?" she asked, as if reading my mind. "Remember how much you hated being here at first. You'd have given anything to fly back to England."

She was right, but things had changed a lot since then. It wasn't just a matter of leaving the beauty and tranquillity of Camberley, where there were no social pressures and I had decent friends; it was the prospect of re-integrating myself into London life.

What if something had happened with Alastair while I'd been gone, and I had to suffer the pity stares again? What if my friends had moved on without me? What if I screwed up at some important event because I'd been so out of practice?

"Things are different now," I said. "It's easier to stay here than settle back into Carringham. At the beginning of summer, I wanted to leave because I didn't want my friendship circle spiralling away from me. It's too late for that now. Going back will be hard."

"Well, look on the bright side. At least you won't have to deal with unpredictable lifeguards back there."

I forced a smile, even though the thought of leaving Brent made me feel strangely uneasy, too.

~~~

Mia offered to walk me home and, when we arrived at my house, I caught sight of a tall figure heading down the path towards the beach. The broad shoulders were unmistakable but, just in case I had any doubts, Mia shouted after him.

"Hey! Creeping around gardens will get the police called, ya know."

Seemingly unamused, Brent returned up the path and stopped in front of my door.

"Hey." He shoved his hands into his pockets and displayed the same air of awkwardness as when he'd dropped my book off.

"Everything okay?" I asked, rooting around in my bag for my key.

"Yeah, I just came to mention that the guys wanted to plan another, you know, gathering thing."

"A party?" Mia asked, raising her eyebrows. "To the rest of the world, it's a party."

He shrugged, not at all fazed by her attitude. While Mia had picked up on his terminology, stranger things played on my mind. Since when was Brent the one to arrange a party? He didn't even drink. In fact, he spent most of the evening looking like he'd rather be elsewhere.

"Why are you arranging a party?" I asked.

"I don't think that's the most important thing, Rose," Mia said. "I'm more interested in why you just so happened to be leaving as we arrived. It's late, Brent. I doubt you coincidentally chose this particular time..."—she glanced at her watch—"... ten forty-three, to turn up in Rose's garden."

Brent had behaved in some strange ways during the short period I'd known him, but I had to admit that this was one of the more bizarre things he'd done.

"Actually," he said, "I knocked on the door a couple of hours ago and Mrs Harrington told me she was out. I've been sitting on the beach since and came back up when I heard footsteps. Only you were here, Mia, and it's something I thought Rosalie would appreciate talking about in private."

"Is it a private party?" Mia asked.

"What?" he asked, folding his arms and glancing across at me. "No, it's not."

"Whatever it is, you can talk about it in front of Mia," I said. "I don't mind."

Brent's gaze darted between Mia and me, and then his shoulders slumped as he released a long sigh. "We usually have it on the beach, but it might be more tasteful to go elsewhere. Given recent events."

Silence fell. The noise of crickets and the gentle rustle of trees in the wind dominated the increasingly awkward atmosphere developing between us.

"We can have it here," I said. "The house is big enough and if anyone wants to spill out onto the beach, they can."

"Your mom won't mind?" Brent asked.

I shrugged. "Doubt it. She actively encourages social events."

Not to mention she'd love the opportunity to get out of Camberley and into a swish hotel...

"Great," Mia said with enthusiasm. "Brent, since you're here, can you walk me home? I wanna pick your brains about something."

Hesitation immediately flooded into his face. "Is this about Austin?"

"Yes. You seem the best person to ask."

"No way, Mia. I'm not getting involved in that shit."

She scowled, unimpressed with his reluctance to divulge information. "But he's told you stuff, right? He's talked to you about it? He must have."

"I'm not getting involved," he repeated. "I'll walk you home, but I don't wanna be stirring."

She pinched her lips together but accepted it. I'd guess she'd still try to wear him down on the walk back. As she leaned to hug me goodbye, she moved her mouth to my ear.

"You and I have got a lot of talking to do," she whispered, before withdrawing as if she'd not said a word. "Right, big guy, let's go. It's past my bedtime."

My fingers still clutched the key as I watched them disappear together. Despite being close friends, there was no sign of intimacy between them. They walked side by side but not touching, almost as though they didn't know each other.

Given that Mia was a highly affectionate person, I could only assume the lack of contact was down to Brent. He didn't seem to be very physical at all. It was strange to think he'd touched me so intimately in the hut, although I guess being trapped in a confined space plays all kinds of tricks on your mind.

Nevertheless, as I finally stepped inside my house, I couldn't help wondering what Brent's story was and, the more I thought about it, the more I desperately wanted to know.

~~~

Thank you for reading :) xx

~~~