Page 78 of Pansies

“Hey, there were Murray Mints too.”

“Well, thank God for that. Otherwise you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a complete bust.”

Alfie grinned, stood, and held out a hand. “How about…how about what we did on our third date was go for a long walk on the beach?”

For a moment, Fen just sat there, looking up at him, clear-eyed. “How romantic of us.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a yes.”

He came lightly to his feet and slipped his hand into Alfie’s. And they strolled like that awhile, under the shadow of the cliffs and past the rock.

Fen slanted a smile at him. “You look good here, Alfie Bell.”

“I like to think I look good most places.”

“Particularly good here, then. All you need is a flat cap and a wet Labrador.”

“Way to turn a compliment”—he gave it a pause—“into an insult.”

The wind whisked the laughter from Fen’s lips. “It wasn’t meant to be an insult.”

“Hardly sexy, though, is it?”

“I don’t know.” The chilly air had brought colour to Fen’s cheeks. Or some private thought had made him blush. “I’d find it pretty charming.”

They followed a strip of sand between the cliff face and a much smaller sea stack known as Lot’s Wife. The beach was narrower here, mainly sand and clusters of rocks, furry with black seaweed and stippled with barnacles. A much younger Alfie had played among the little pools, occasionally falling into them in his quest for starfish, cockle shells, and mermaids’ purses.

Fen slipped his hand free, stuck his arms into Alfie’s coat—which was far too big for him—and darted off over the rocks, as fearless as a mountain goat. His hair streamed behind him, pink and silver and Rumpelstiltskin gold.

“Fen, if you end up in the water…”

“Then you have my permission to point and laugh.”

Muttering, Alfie scrambled after him. It was, frankly, slippy as fuck, but he managed to avoid falling on his arse, finally catching up to Fen where the pools flowed into the sea and the seaweed was particularly treacherous. A hand reached for him before he skidded right over, and he crashed into Fen instead. He’d forgotten, somehow, the strength in the man, but he felt it now in the shifting muscles of the body that steadied him.

Still holding on, Alfie turned slowly to look out over theNorth Sea. It was one shade darker than the sky, a cold black mirror, tarnished with spreading streaks of silver. The waves rushed white-tipped to the edges of their rock and swirled past to mingle with the pools, strewing a haphazard treasure path of coral pieces, broken shell, and sea-wrack.

Fen pointed to the damp seaweed at their feet. The strands were spread out like a muted rainbow, black and green, brown and blue. “Sea horse manes.”

“You joke, but I used to think sea horses were actually like horses.”

“So did I.” Fen leaned his head against Alfie’s shoulder. “I was really disappointed when I learned they weren’t. But then my mum bought me this book full of these colour photographs of sea horses, and I fell back in love with them. They’re so ridiculously beautiful. Strange little rainbow creatures.”

“I thought they were sort of yellowy grey?”

“No, no, they come in all sorts of colours. And there are sea dragons, which have these long, floaty tendrils. And when they mate, which they do for life, they dance and hold tails.”

“If I had a tail, you could hold it.”

Fen took his hand again. “I’ll pretend it’s your tail.”

“I’m not much of a dancer though.”

“But the dancing is lovely. They sort of twist about each other…” Fen twisted. “And move their bodies together…” Fen moved. “And then they ki—”

Alfie kissed him. And was so distracted that he didn’t notice the wave breaking over their rock until his feet were doused in seawater, astonishingly cold in contrast to the heat of Fen’s mouth. He leapt back with an undignified yelp, pursued by the tide and Fen’s sweet, sudden laughter.

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