Heart (9 page)

“Long story, mate. It’s personal, you know?” I guess the tears visible in my eyes are enough to stop him asking any more questions.

“No problem. It’s just I’ve never been asked to ink it before. It’s cool.”

When I walk out, the sun is shining, reminding me of the day Neve and I spent in Stratford, messing about in a boat we hired. It was another reason to come here today. Another link. Another way of making every moment we shared a permanent part of me.

What if I was wrong?

The next day followed the same routine as the week before. Garrett was waiting in the lecture hall, skinny mocha and all. I smiled inwardly and sat next to him.

“Good morning, Mister Adams.” I toasted him with my cup.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Miss Peters,” he replied in the worst Irish accent ever. I grinned.

“Don’t ever attempt that again, and certainly never in the presence of someone from Ireland. You’re liable to get a very painful reply!” He laughed and we settled down for the lecture.

We did some studying together, had lunch together and had the last lecture of the day together. Like the week before, he insisted on walking me back to my room.

“I need to go via the porters’ lodge,” I said as we approached the edge of campus. “I’ve had a text to say there’s a parcel for me.” I’d been intrigued about the parcel since I received the text a few hours earlier. As both Mum and Cass had dispatched me back to uni with gifts, I didn’t think it was anything from them and I hadn’t ordered anything online.

“I’ll leave you here, then, if that’s all right.” Garrett touched my arm and then strode off, back in the direction we had walked. Wondering why he wasn’t up to his usual gentlemanly behaviour and insisting on walking me home, I knocked the porter’s door.

After showing him my student ID, I was handed a large box, with no clue as to its origin beyond the courier’s address. Brighton. I struggled with it on the short walk back to my room, eager to drop it as soon as I got through the door. Within seconds of taking off my coat, I placed the box on my bed, almost too nervous to open it. Slowly removing the courier’s plastic wrapping, I soon recognised the name embossed in the white card of the box. The shop we had visited yesterday.
It wasn’t, was it?

It was.

Folded in layers of soft, white tissue paper was
the
dress. The pink Issy dress I had admired. Clearly, I have self-control issues: I had my clothes off and that dress on faster than you could say ‘gold digger’.

It fit perfectly, gently hugging my arms and chest before falling in soft folds to just above my knee. I put on one of the few pairs of heels I owned, a silver pair bought for a posh wedding, and pranced and twirled around my room. Seriously, I gave Cinderella a run for her money with my over-excitement, but my strike of midnight was the flash on my phone as I took a selfie, trying to get the whole dress in. Who would I send it to? Worse still, what would they think of me for accepting this gift from someone I had known for only a matter of days?

Removing it carefully to ensure I didn’t snag the lace, I took it off and placed it back in the box. Clad in my pyjamas, I sat cross-legged on my bed, the box taunting me from my desk, and deliberated how to tell Garrett I couldn’t accept it. The ping of a text broke the brain-ache.

Yankee:
Did you get your delivery okay?

Me:
Yes…

Me:
Can I ring you?

Yankee:
Any time ☺

Me:
Now?

Yankee:
Give me 5?

Me:
okay

Even I knew it would be rude to refuse the gift by text. After five minutes of mentally rehearsing what I was going to say, I rang Garrett’s number. No answer. Weird. I tried again. Just as he picked up, the house door buzzer rang.

“Hi,” I started, forgetting every single line I had practised.

“Hi.” The door buzzer was still ringing.

“Um, let me get the door. I can’t think with that thing going off. I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, dropping my phone on my bed and hurrying out to the corridor intercom.

“Yes?” I said, not caring how unfriendly I sounded.

“Neve, it’s me. Garrett.”

“What? Why? You were on the phone.”

“I know. Can we carry on this conversation in person? Buzz me in?” Confused, I did as he asked but the intercom buzzed again.

“Yes?” The buzzer cackled with the static of my annoyance.

“It’s me. What room are you?” I laughed and told him my number. After quickly straightening my bed, I stood at my door, strangely nervous.

“Hi, come on in,” I greeted Garrett when he turned onto the corridor. When he followed me in there was a real awkwardness. One, I hadn’t had anyone visit me in my room other than Jake. Two, I didn’t want to end up sat on the bed with Garrett, not with how messed-up my head was at that moment. Pulling the chair out from under the desk, I angled it toward the bed. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He sat down and then tapped the gift box. “So, you got the dress then?” Even he seemed awkward.

“Yes, thank you.” I paused before blurting out, “But I can’t accept it. I know how much the dresses cost in that shop. There’s no way I can take it. It’s too much.”

“I’m not returning it, Neve, so it will just be wasted if you don’t take it.”

“Well, I’m not going to. It’s not right. I’ve only known you a week.” Every reason why I couldn’t take the dress poured out of me. “It’s just not right. You can’t spend that much money on me.”

“I have and it’s money already spent. The dress isn’t going back, so your choice is to either keep it or donate it to Goodwill.” He was wicked in his calmness.

“But I can’t keep it. I can’t.”

“So donate it.”

“I can’t give a brand-new, designer dress to charity. Please take it back. It’s such a waste of money. I don’t have anywhere to wear a dress like that.” See what happened there? He’d got me thinking about keeping it.

“You have.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I would like to take you to dinner this weekend. You need something appropriate to wear.”

“Why? Where are we going?” See? He did it again.

“Just somewhere nice. We can sort out the details tomorrow. Now I need to get home.” He stood and I followed him to the door. “Anything else to say?” he asked before I could open it.

I looked up at him and, mustering every ounce of sincerity I could, said, “Thank you for the dress, Garrett. It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he whispered before lowering his head to mine. There was a split-second where I was tempted to move my head, but I didn’t. His lips touched mine lightly, then more insistently. Garrett’s hands wound themselves in my hair, keeping my head fixed as his mouth became firmer. I felt his tongue stroke my lower lip, encouraging it to allow him access. As soon as his tongue made its way past my lips, the pressure of his hands increased and there was no way I could resist. A deep moan rumbled from his throat into my mouth before he pulled away, eyes dark and unreadable.

“I want you, Neve. I don’t want to be just your friend. I’m going to make you mine.” Before I could reply, he left, quietly pulling the door closed behind him. Trembling, but unsure why, I sat on my bed, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

I spent the whole of my American Studies class worrying about facing Garrett in our Literature lecture that afternoon. Even though I had spent much of the night awake, thinking over what had happened and, critically, what it meant may happen, I still had no answers. Garrett’s kiss had left me numb; it was certainly nothing like the kisses I shared with Jake. But maybe what Jake and I had was a one-off. Maybe it got better with time.

Who am I kidding?
I could remember the first time Jake kissed me, at my parents’ New Year’s Eve party: it was innocent but had still rendered me breathless and wanting more. There had never been a kiss with Jake that hadn’t turned me into a molten mess, desperate for more. Even the heat of his mouth approaching mine would be enough to turn me on. I licked my upper lip, remembering the exact texture of Jake’s lips on mine. It was enough to make me shudder with longing.

There had been no text from Garrett and no sign of him in the library so it was with a small amount of relief that I saw him, sat in what had become our usual seats, in the lecture hall. I made my way over and sat down, wondering what his greeting was going to be like.

“Hey, had a good day?” Okay, so nothing out of the ordinary there.

“Yeah. Had a good lecture on American music. You?”

“Yes, thanks. Media was a film screening so it was an easy session.” He smiled at me before turning his gaze back to his iPad. I felt a little better as he hadn’t tried to kiss me or ask about last night, but unease meant I didn’t fully process the lecturer’s words.

When the lecture was over, we walked out of the hall together and he paused.

“Can I drive you back today?”

“It’s okay, I can walk.”

“No, I want to take you home. It’s just that my car is close by and I can then drive straight off from yours. And it’s warmer!” Maybe I’m selfish but I hadn’t really thought he was walking so much out of his way when he insisted on walking me back each day. That fifteen minutes for me was half an hour for him and, although the exercise wasn’t an issue, the weather sometimes was.

“Okay.” We walked the short distance to his car and he drove us to my housing block. In silence.

“Thanks for the lift,” I started when he had pulled into a parking space. He hadn’t moved to open my door but he hadn’t cut the engine, either.

When he said my name, I felt my eyes roll but turned to look at him fully. He said nothing more but lifted one hand to my face. The tip of his index finger trailed down the side of my face before landing on my lips. After pressing lightly on them, forcing some sort of faux-kiss, he removed his hand and got out of the car.

“Goodnight, Neve,” he said, handing me my bag from the backseat.

“’Night, Garrett. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” he called as I walked to my door. I heard him get back into the car, but I closed the door behind me before he pulled away.

Confusion had me by the proverbial balls. What was happening? No, I knew what was happening; Garrett had made that clear. What I didn’t know was what I wanted to happen. I knew who could help me make sense of it all.

“Hiya, lovely. How you doing?” Cass’s friendly voice and immediate answer almost made me cry.

“Umm, I’m fine. I think.” Cryptic, I know.

“What’s up? Is it Jake? Have you heard from him?”

“No. Why do you ask that?”

“No reason. You just sound a bit, uhh, over-excited and I wondered if he had. That was all. So, what’s up?”

“You know we talked about seeing what happened with Garrett?”

“Hmmm?”

“Well, he kind of bought me a dress. And kissed me,” I admitted.

“Hang on! What exactly has happened in the, what,
four
days since I saw you?” Cass had a right to be incredulous; when we last talked, the plan had been to see what happened, not fast-forward into another relationship.