Buttercup [H.S]

Chapter Sixteen

I hadn't been to Brighton Beach since I was six or seven years old. When I had gone it had been for a day trip with my mother, my Great Auntie Iris and my then ten year old cousin, Ethan.

Ethan poured sand on my ice cream when my mother wasn't looking, and that's all that I remembered about the trip.

Harry had picked me up on Monday at seven in the morning, deciding that as it would take almost two hours to drive there, that a 7am start meant that we could beat the rush hour traffic and make it in time for breakfast.

So despite Monday being my day off, which meant I'd usually sleep in until the sun peaking through my blinds or the clatter of the post man shoving takeaway menus through my letter box woke me up, I'd pulled myself out of bed at a ridiculous time to get ready.

What did one wear to the beach as an adult?

When I'd gone there with Ethan as a child I'd been in a Rosie and Jim striped swim suit; I don't think that was quite the look I'd be going for today.

I wasn't entirely sure what the day entailed, just that Harry had found somewhere we could rent bikes from and that Chips for lunch was non negotiable.

Unfortunately we weren't blessed with another scorching day, the weather report on my phone stated that it would be cool and cloudy, with the possibility of rain in the early evening. Which made choosing what to wear even harder.

Would we spend much time on the actual beach? Would we swim in the sea? It seemed a wasted opportunity to not even consider it, so in the end I opted to shove on an old blue bikini that I didn't even recall buying, pulling on gym leggings, a tank and an oversized knitted jumper over the top.

If I said I hadn't chosen this particular jumper in hopes to elicit a reaction from Harry, then I'd be a big fat liar. Because this wasn't just any jumper, this was a custom knitted jumper in a wonderful lilac colour with a giant blue and red David Bowie lightening bolt right in the centre.

Lucy had gifted it to me last Christmas, Janis having spent hours upon hours knitting it for me, and it was one of my most treasured possessions.

I packed a bag with two bottles of water and wrapped up slices of lemon drizzle cake I'd baked last night, and slipped in my rolled up rain Mac, just in time to hear a loud honk from outside.

I'd been anticipating today ever since Saturday night in the field when my offer of a bike ride to Harry turned into a long, dreamy discussion on the way back to my house about spending the day together.

Then the next day, Sunday, Harry had hurried over to me with excitement telling me about the bike rental place and it dawned on me that he was actually serious. He wanted to spend the day with me. Ride bikes. Collect shells. All of it.

I wasn't sure what it was, perhaps the fuzzy around the edges memory of him pulling me into his lap and holding onto one another so tight that it was hard to decipher where one ended and the other began; or perhaps the even hazier memory of his feather like touch of his lips to my neck, but I'd been finding it incredibly difficult to even look at Harry without my face bursting into a red hot blush.

And the infliction remained when I locked my front door and - with a tug - opened the passenger door to the van to climb inside.

I peaked at him, throwing him shy smile, already feeling the warmth creeping into my face.

"That was quick, thought I was going to have to come in there and drag you out of bed," he grinned, but I didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to my chest. His smile grew, if that were possible. "Nice jumper."