Page 46 of The Wishing Tree Beside the Shor
I go to tell him he has nothing to make up for, but the words are either going to choke me or make me start crying, and they stick in my throat. My mouth opens but nothing comes out. He isn’t the one who did anything wrong, but being this close to him, surrounded by the scent of his cologne and with the heat of his body filtering into mine, I hadn’t realised how lonely I’d been, and it feels nice to justbewith him again.
He doesn’t lift his head, and even though it’s by far the strangest position I’ve ever been in with a guy, it somehow feels right with Ryan, and I let myself enjoy it for a few moments. It’s temporary – all this is temporary. What harm can it do?
I put the leaflets down and lean back without moving my left arm and dislodging him. Instead, I move my right hand across and my fingers skate over the muscles of his back, warm through his grey T-shirt.
His hand reaches up blindly to catch my hand and his fingers hold it on his shoulder, and I get the feeling it’s his way of letting me know it’s okay to touch him. When he lets his hand drop again, his head still heavy against my arm, my fingers rub mindlessly against his shoulder. In my head, I’m shouting at myself to stop touching him and keep a professional distance, because Iamsupposed to be here as a professional and this whole thing is going to come crashing down the moment anyone finds that out, but my hand moves of its own accord, slinking towards the nape of his neck and the dark strands of hair that start to curl there.
It’s a natural instinct to touch it and my fingers graze the hair at the back of his neck, and I look down, watching him, expecting him to jump up and put as much space as possible between us, but his dark eyelashes are blinking slower as his eyes drift closed, and his head grows heavier against my arm.
I let my hand play with more of his hair, stroking through it, pulling it back and letting it spring forward again. His hair is straight for the first couple of inches and then starts to curl over, and he always used to keep it short enough not to show the curliness, but now it’s more unkempt than it used to be, and if it gets much longer, it’s going to turn into a mass of waves.
Without opening his eyes, he lifts his head, curls his fingers around my other hand and holds the back of it to his mouth. ‘I missed you.’ He breathes the words against my skin and presses his lips behind them.
He must be able to feel the way my whole body flushes. Every inch of my skin feels tingly and overheated, and with the prickly burn of his stubble against it, my hand must be so hot it’s currently akin to touching an oven that’s been on full blast for three hours.
‘I missed you too,’ I say honestly. My fingers tighten in his hair as he finally lets go of my hand and nestles his head back against my arm, where it’s resting uselessly against my leg, held stiff and starting to ache because I don’t want to make any movement that’s going to destroy the peace of this moment. I let my fingers keep carding through his hair, enjoying the peacefulness and the warmth of his body against mine.
The idea that he didn’t think he was good enough for me keeps doing three-point turns in my mind, and the thought that he didn’t realise he was the best thing in my life back then prickles at me. Maybe I was so busy not letting him see that I had a ginormous crush on him that I never let him see how much he meant to me as a friend, and I decide here and now that I’m not going to make that mistake again. He deserves to know that he was the highlight of my life for many years.
He starts singing under his breath – another Nineties classic that fits the moment perfectly, “Together Again” by Janet Jackson, and I join in, humming along quietly. There were a lot of times I wouldn’t be self-conscious about singing in front of Ryan, butthisis not one of them.
‘Not sure if I’m falling asleep or already dreaming,’ he mumbles as he leans even heavier into me. ‘Lying in a tree shouldn’t be this comfy, should it?’
‘I haven’t felt my bum for the past two hours.’ Great, Fliss. Draw attention to the one part of you doesn’t need any extra attention drawn to it, not with the amount of time I spend sitting on it at my desk in the office.
‘Ah, you get used to that. Trees don’t come with built-in cushions. Well, unless this counts.’ He lifts his head to rub his chin against my arm and when he glances up, I meet his eyes, and it’s like it unlocks something in the haze we’ve been in.
He shakes himself and pushes off me, shifting over to put some space between us. ‘Sorry, I think I entered a different reality for a minute. I’m forgetting myself. It’s been a long day and I think my brain melted there.’
‘There’s something about this tree,’ I say, because his cheeks have gone so red that even the weird evening light can’t disguise it.
‘It grants wishes,’ he says softly. ‘I mean … that was mine. That you’d …’
‘Sit in a tree and stroke your hair while murdering a decades-old Janet song? That’s quite specific for a helicopter seed. Spending so much time in this tree is clearly affecting you. Maybe it’s got psychotropic properties or something and that’s why everyone thinks it grants wishes but really it just makes people lose their minds when they’re near it.’
He looks at me for a long moment, and then drops my gaze and looks away. ‘That must be it.’
I get the feeling he wants to say more, and my thigh feels cold without him lying next to me, but it’s for the best. Getting close to Ryan is a recipe for disaster in more ways than one.
Chapter 11
‘I’ll see you in a bit, my class is coming to your strawberry patch this morning,’ Cheryl calls as she leaves the bedroom the next morning, leaving me half-asleep on my mostly deflated bed, and wondering if I should see about getting something more permanent, but that would be guaranteed to jinx Harrison into calling me back to the office, and I’m not ready to face that yet.
I toss and turn for a while longer before I finally persuade myself to go downstairs, surprised to find Dad feather dusting around the living room with music on in the background.
‘You’re enthusiastic?’
‘Thought I’d get an early start. The sun’s shining, the birds are singing … well, technically the birds are pooing all over my laurel hedgerow as they queue up for the neighbour’s bird feeder, but we can’t win ’em all. Are you off to see Ryan?’
Is it that obvious? ‘Well, I thought I might get some breakfast first.’ I start heading towards the kitchen and then stop. ‘And I’m not going to see Ryan, I’m going to the strawberry patch to help the protest. There’s a difference.’
He ignores me. ‘Thought I might stop by later myself. Cynthia said she had some old photos to show me from the good ol’ days at work.’
‘You always did like her …’
‘It’s always nice to reconnect with an oldfriend. Isn’t it?’
‘It’s certainly been an eye-opening experience.’ I look pointedly at the corner of the curtain rail he’s dusting. This is the first time it’s had so much as a sniff of a feather duster for months.Thatis not the influence of an old “friend”. ‘It would be good to see you. We need all the help we can get, and you’re brilliant at gardening.’ I nod out the window towards his pristine front yard full of fancy planters bearing rainbows of flowers and not a weed in sight.
