The Bright Side

Chapter 7 - Part 5

SKY

Spending a whole weekend in London with Tristan. Alone with Tristan. At a hotel. How on fricking earth did I get myself into this? It's not that I don't want to. I do. I'm practically bursting from anticipation. It feels wrong though. Since my feelings for him aren't all friend-ish it's not a casual trip. At least not for me. And I'm pretty sure that it won't help me to get over my ...crush on him, spending so much time alone with him. I probably shouldn't go; I should back out and tell him to take Rory or Mark and at the same time, the idea of not going, of missing an opportunity to be with him, makes me choke internally.

We finish our meal and after Tristan pretended to help Judy clean up by carrying a fork, two knives and a half-empty glass of water over to the sink in slow-motion, we head out to East Coast. The town centre is deserted and we cruise past the wildly blinking shop window of the beauty shop, a stupidly grinning pig decorating the butcher's storefront and the flower shop that enriches the sea breeze with nose numbing flavour. Tristan takes up speed as we pass the bakery, anxiously looking up at the homely glowing windows of the flat above and I have to push my board hard to keep up with him. It's only at the traffic light by St. George Bridge that he stops and throws distressed glances back at the bakery, like he expects it to explode any second. His eyes scan the rather confused look on my face and he sighs before he explains.

"That's where Matt lives. His family owns the bakery." He rearranges his snapback, allowing me the shortest glimpse at his beautiful crazy curls. "He's a baker."

The lights turn green and we cross the street and head right towards Regency Road.

"Did you ever see him again? After we met him at the pub?" Living in a 'town' of 8,000 souls, it's practically impossible to avoid people.

"Seen him from afar. Yes. But hey, no one knows his way through Seaford like me." Tristan grins. "There are eleven different routes from my house to yours without having to go down High Street."

"Impressive," I say. "How about..." I pause, "Carrie?"

"Carrie lives in ...Lyme." Tristan directs his gaze forward as if skating straight ahead claimed all his concentration.

I didn't quite catch on if 'Carrie' or 'Lyme' was the keyword to snap Tristan out of happy mode. Since Lyme is only a neighbouring village – population 2000, about 5 miles away from Seaford, I'm going with 'Carrie'. And I don't want to have him thinking too much about her.

"So, all you have to do is avoid Matt."

"And I've become so good at it!" The smile sneaks back onto his face. "Like, last week I had to go to the bakery because we were out of bagels at the hotel and I just made some kid go inside for me for a quid."

"You're like twelve years old, mate."

"No. I'm just trying to avoid hospital."

"Huh?"

"You've seen him. And since I'm very possibly going to start a fight when I meet him again and... he's so much stronger than me, I'm going to be the one who ends up in the emergency room."

"Oh, I see. So you're just being smart, huh?" His make believe is stunning. Typical Tristan.

"You feel me, mate."

Tristan's hand comes up to my shoulder and he holds onto me, while I work hard to move forward on the small stretch Regency Road goes uphill. Instead of going left down my road we head straight on and only three minutes later, we arrive at East Coast Skate Park - me, completely out of breath because Tristan let me pull him all the damn way up Regency Road and Tristan, smug and sweet as always.