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As I gathered my things, Max began doing the same, but I pushed him back down. “No, please, you should stay here.” Otherwise, I’d be tempted to invite him in and not let him back out again. “I don’t need you to walk me home. Honestly. I need to clear my head.”

“Text me when you get there.”

I laughed; this was ridiculous. “It’s literally twenty metres!”

For a guy short on conversation, his walnut brown eyes knew how to compensate. His naked expanse of man flesh wasn’t a hindrance either. He held out his phone and stood over me as Ipunched my contact details, scrutinising them before putting the phone away. If Max had been anyone else, I’d have thought those eyelashes, fluttering ten to the dozen as he expressed concern for my safety, were nothing more than a sneaky ploy to get my number.

CHAPTER 11

MAX

After Caspian left, I searched his anxiety medications online and their side effects. To enable me to become an even more perfect lover in the future. Tonight had been awesome. Wanting to masturbate him for a second time had been my only error. And he’d totally fallen for the phone number trick. Nico used to do that with girls he fancied all the time.

I hadn’t told Caspian I was inexperienced sexually. I would if he asked, because honesty between lovers was important, especially around consent and sexual health, butPerfect Peachsaid nothing about having to list previous sexual partners, or lack of them.

After memorising the venlafaxine patient information sheet, I hopped back into bed, spat on my hand, and treated myself to a leisurely wank, picturing Caspian’s beautiful face, all flushed and damp as he ejaculated across my palm. My own hand was well versed, but not as good as his had been. Nonetheless, a satisfactory completion was achieved.

And then, with that out of the way, I devised a plan to make him need me.

“Now take one from this side. With my hair scraped back by the wind, like this.”

Nico tilted his head to the left, squinting into the sun. Not his best look, although I didn’t point it out, as he was doing me a favour. “Don’t you think the photo might be nicer with the beach and the sweep of the dunes in the background?”

“I’m asking you to take pictures, not for your opinion. I want the sea behind me. I like the sea.”

“What, even though it’s all grey and cold and depressing?”

“Just do it!”

“Yessir.”

We’d done eight snaps of me on my tractor, two of me posing next to it, and five of me exhibiting my strength hauling oyster pouches. In most of them, I was smiling, showing my good teeth. I’d waited for three days because I wasn’t fixating on Caspian, even though he filled my head. Also,Perfect Peachsuggested not appearing too keen. In the interim, I’d masturbated eleven times.

“Do you think my hair needs cutting,” I asked Nico. Generally, he had a lot of opinions about hair.

“What? To impress your man?”

“No,” I lied.

“Liar.”

Tipping his head the other way, his own perfect locks flopping over his forehead, he contemplated my head of thick hair, the same reddish-brown as my mum’s. When she had chemotherapy and all hers fell out, I offered to shave mine so she could have a wig made from it. She said no, because looking at it reminded her of all her autumns on the island, and autumn had been her favourite time of year. So I was reluctant to cut it too short, even if Mr Hair Expert decreed I should.

“Can’t see anything crawling in it.”

“That’s a low bar.”

He studied it some more. “Do you know what, Max?” A rhetorical question; more brotherly wisdom was heading my way.

“Leave it exactly the way it is. The beard too. Be yourself. If he doesn’t like it, then he’s not the man for you.”

“Huh.”

Caspianwasthe man for me. I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts, which I took as a sign he was supposed to be there.

I sent Caspian the best photo while I was eating my lunch, at twenty-four minutes past twelve, adding a text-based emoticon of a smiley face. I favoured emoticons over emojis, and I appreciated it when other people reciprocated. For example, if Éti sent me a text saying,I hate you!I would take it literally and wonder why. If she followed it with an emoji, I would also wonder why, because the array of subtly different smiles confused me. But if she sentI hate you!followed by a winky face text-based emoticon, I’d know she was joking, and I would pretend to find it funny.

After two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, Caspian texted back. The words didn’t make a huge amount of sense, but I forgave him because the emoticons made my stomach wriggle like when I’d eaten too many bananas. Except without the need to immediately locate a toilet.Wow!Who’s that handsome fellow?;) ;) ;)

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