Page 12 of Keep in Touch

“I’ve got this weird bump on my nose. Touch it,” Chris urged. His eyes were wide as he pointed energetically to his nose.

Lucie fumbled through her words. “I don’t need to.” She swallowed her fears. “Are you sure I can?”

He nodded enthusiastically. Lucie held her breath and brushed her finger gently across his nose. She didn’t combust into flames or get called a freak. Chris wasn’t a god with skin made of gold or a superstar too beautiful to allow someone like her to get close. He was an ordinary person.

“I busted my nose when I was six. Mum was having one of her off days. On days like those, she refused to leave her bed. She’d tell me to go and play quietly like a good little boy, but that day I didn’t. Do you rememberGladiators?” He didn’t wait for her reaction. “My dad was a big fan, and we had loads of episodes on DVD, and I would watch them all the time. That day I was standing on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. There I was, kitchen broom in hand, proclaiming that I was the greatest contestant the show had ever had. I jumped and spun while imagining I was in a battle to the death against Wolf. Suddenly I waved my broom high in the air. It caught on the lampshade, and I flew off the table, smacking my face on the television stand. There was blood everywhere.”

Chris told his story enthusiastically and held Lucie mesmerised with each twist and turn. What did he mean by his mum’s off days, and who had patched him up after the fall?“You have to include my dimples in your drawing.” Attempting to talk while smiling broadly to show his dimples gave him an exaggerated puppet face effect.

She returned to her pad, pushing away her questions, and drew lines to create his dimples.

He pointed to his dimples. “You have to admit they’re my best feature.”

“Stop talking,” she replied with a smile.

“I won’t stop until you admit it,” he insisted as he pointed again to his dimples. Lucie pursed her lips to prevent herself from laughing. “Say you’ll include them. Please, lovely Lucie. Please.” He drew out the word until she couldn’t stop herself and giggled.

“That’s a yes then?” he asked, the big grin still on his face.

“Yes,” she replied, shaking her head and laughing louder when he punched his fist in the air in celebration.

Chapter Nine

As they sat on the sand, occasionally singing to the Rihanna songs filling the air from a group of twenty-somethings playing their radio on the beach, Lucie drew. She tried to focus on perfecting the oval shape of Chris’s face and the soft cupid’s bow of his lips, but his attention span didn’t last long enough for posing. Repeatedly he made a noisy hum to attract her attention, and when he caught her eye, he made a silly face at her. How could one face get in so many positions? Her favourite funny pose was when he squidged up his face and stuck his tongue out simultaneously. Even then, he was cute enough to make her belly flip.

“Tell me a bit more about you?” Chris requested once he’d settled into posing again. He jumped from silly to serious, and she longed for him to fancy her. He made it easy to have fun and to trust him too. “What are your plans after you finish your exams next summer?”

“I’ll be going to Birmingham to study law.” A lot of the families had left the beach by now. The late afternoon slid quietly into the early evening.

“Not art?”

She squinted at her drawing as if it required her full attention as she shrugged. Chris saw right through her.

“What made you pick law instead of art?” he pressed. “I think you’ll be amazing at whatever you want to do.”

“You don’t know me,” she replied, glancing at him.

He shrugged. “True, but you managed to take me on earlier. So why law?”

“You know, stuff.” She nibbled at her lip, hoping he’d drop the question, even as she contemplated telling him the truth. He pushed on.

“Lucie, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I get it. But I won’t judge you, whatever you say, even if you tell me it’s so you can become The Lawyer, the head of a gang of law-based crime fighters,” he joked.

How did he put her at ease so effortlessly? His earlier vulnerability made her want to share. “It’s my dad. He wants me to do law. His plan is for me to join the family business. He bought me a solicitor wig for my thirteenth birthday. I’ve tried to say I don’t want to do it,” she replied. But was that true? She behaved like a good daughter and tried to keep the peace as she’d been taught to. “I’ll be rubbish at it. I can’t debate. I hate debates.” She sounded like a child moaning about being made to eat sprouts for dinner.

“Why do you hate debates?”

It was a simple question, but the answer revealed her weaknesses. She kept her head down and her pencil moving as she replied, “No reason, I just hate them.”

He raised his eyebrows as he studied her. The simple reaction sent heat rushing up her face. Lucie rested her pencil between her lips and stared at her notepad. Occasionally, she’d roll the tip of the pencil around the edge of her mouth. It was another one of her nervous habits. Chris’s eyes were on her, and she didn’t need to look up to know. A bead of sweat dripped down her chest.

“Why haven’t I seen you at the parties?”

The question caught her by surprise. He was tricky to predict. “It’s not my thing.” To avoid eye contact, she pretended to busy herself by inspecting her pad. But when she looked up at him, there was something new in his eyes. Why was he staring at her lips like he was fascinated by them? “Besides, we wouldn’t chat, and you wouldn’t notice me anyway.”

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

The atmosphere was suddenly uncomfortable. Lucie hesitated as she considered reaching for her bag to pack up.

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