Page 18 of Scary In Love
An older couple walks towards us, and we step aside to make space on the narrow pavement. Mason loops his arm around my shoulder without thinking. My gut instinct is to pull away before anyone sees, but I fight against it. Who cares what people think?
Knowing he saved me a few minutes by ordering my drink, I walk more slowly and answer his questions about life in Crowmorne.
Every shop we pass has a crow in a costume in the window, part of a town-wide treasure trail for the local kids. Some have made more effort than others, though it’s a little too family-friendly for my tastes.
“You guys go big on the spooky stuff here,” he says, and my coffee goes down the wrong way.
“You’d think with a name like Crowmorne, everyone would be a spooky fucker, but for years I’ve been the only creep in town. This is all the Miller effect. You’ve been very good for business.”
I tell him how the extra attention on the house has brought in more money, how pleased our pubs and restaurants are to have more customers during the week.
“You must know everyone,” he says.
The noise I make is deeply sarcastic. “Pretty much, and that’s not a good thing.”
“How so?”
“It’s hard to explain,” I deflect, not wanting to dig up years of trauma about not fitting in here. “Where did you grow up?”
“South London,” he tells me. “My mum died when I was three, so it was just me and my dad. Then he died too, not long after my nineteenth birthday. Mum had cancer, Dad had his demons, drank his way to his own cancer.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”
Many of our residents have had cancer over the years, but no matter how much you work with it, it doesn’t make it any less shit.
“It’s okay,” he shrugs, clearly not wanting to get into his baggage either. “I’ve been bouncing around London ever since, taking acting jobs, some improv stuff. The small-town, everyone-knows-everyone vibe isn’t something I’ve ever really experienced.”
“Well, you’re the talk of the town here.”
“Am I really?”
“Oh yes, and not just local businesses. My residents want to know all about you. A few asked if I’d take them up to the house for a visit, but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for sending them to an early grave. Speaking of which, I should probably say goodbye here.”
I duck out from underneath his arm before we get to my house, keeping my back to my neighbour’s hedge. I don’t need Mum or Dad spotting us either.
“Why?”
“Your fan club will be waiting to get paparazzi shots through the window.” He laughs, his eyebrows shooting up. “Don’t let it go to your head. They’re a feral bunch, and we don’t get new men in Crowmorne very often.”
“Are you still talking to the guy from last week?”
“Wimpy Peter?” I laugh. “Literally haven’t heard from him.”
“So, back on the apps?”
Oh my God, just ask me out already.
I keep the thought to myself, but I really wish he would.
“I don’t think so. The dating pool is small, and the men around here are much too young, much too old, or extremely—”
“Vanilla?” he interrupts, surprising me with his boldness.
“I’m not vanilla shaming,” I tell him. “If that’s your kink, it’s fine.”
“But it’s not yours, is it?”
No, it definitely isn’t.
