Page 68 of Mistaken Intention

I’ll do anything… once I work out what ‘anything’ is in Josie’s world.

The problem is, we’ve hardly spoken since yesterday morning. We were only in the pool for about thirty minutes in the end. I found it difficult being that close to her, and Josie was so embarrassed, she couldn’t look me in the eye. It seemed easier to give up on the idea of swimming, so we came back to the cottage. Once we were here, though, we went to separate rooms. Josie suggested I should rest in my bedroom for a while, and she stayed downstairs. It was probably for the best in the circumstances. In the afternoon, she did some of those picture exercises with me, but we limited our conversation to the necessary comments, and afterwards, she went to take a shower. I tried not to picture her, although it was hard, having such afresh recollection of exactly how she’d look, and when she came down again, she insisted on cooking… by herself. Needless to say, the atmosphere between us is so tense, you could cut it with a knife, and I know that’s my fault.

I can’t undo the things I did yesterday, or unsay the things I said. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. Cupping her face in my hand and gazing into her eyes felt right, and so did telling her what she does to me… how she makes me feel.

I meant every word, too… except one.

She hadn’t replied to me, but she looked so pained, and I told her it was okay, even though it wasn’t. It was a white lie, but I couldn’t tell her how much her silence hurt.

“Shall we go for a walk? You need some exercise.”

Her voice makes me jump and I turn to see she’s standing in the archway to the kitchen, looking across at me. There’s something sad behind her eyes and I want to ask her about it, although I think it’s best if I don’t. I doubt it’ll end well.

“If you like.”

I stand, noting she’s already wearing her flat pumps. I’ve got my shoes on, too, so I head for the door, stepping outside.

“Um… Drew?”

I spin around. She’s standing with her hands in her pockets, near the foot of the stairs.

“Yes?”

“I think there’s a camera somewhere, isn’t there?” she says.

“There is. It’s upstairs.”

She nods her head. “Why don’t you bring it?”

I don’t know why she’s suggesting that. Maybe so we don’t have to talk, or if we do, we can talk about photography, rather than each other.

“Sure. If you want me to.”

She doesn’t reply, and I step back into the cottage, frowning as she moves back the moment I put my foot on the bottom step.Is she so indifferent to me she doesn’t want me anywhere near her?

That thought makes my chest hurt, and as I climb, I wonder how I’m supposed to do this. How am I supposed to switch off my feelings for her?

I wander through to the office and look down at the camera bag, trying to decide whether to take the whole thing. Except it’s large and cumbersome, so I grab the camera and make my way back down the stairs.

Josie has her back to me and is straightening the throw on the back of the couch, bending over slightly to give me a perfect view of her glorious ass.

Why was I thinking about switching off my feelings for her?

That’s the last thing I want to do.

We’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes, neither of us saying a word. I’m carrying the camera, and Josie seems intent on making sure there’s at least a foot of space between us, which hurts.

She didn’t do this the last time we walked together. We held hands then, so clearly something has changed. I just wish I could work out what, and why… and how to put it back to where it was.

And why this has to be so fucking complicated… as if my life wasn’t complicated enough already.

“How does it feel?”

I turn and look down at her, although neither of us breaks our stride. Josie’s got her hands in her pockets and is staring up at me, her eyebrows raised.

“How does what feel?”It hurts to know you can’t even bear to hold my hand, but I doubt that’s what you’re asking.

“The camera,” she says, nodding down at it. “How does it feel to hold it?”

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