Page 5 of Who The Hell Are You?

I chuckle, remembering how one summer we left food a little too close to the kitchen window and Winnie decided she could maneuver the latch and decimated the table. There wasn’t a scrap of food left in sight. She’s always been more of a domesticated cow, even when winning gold. “When we were kids we made a pact to stick together and all work on the farm. Harris would take over from his dad, I’d be the onsite vet and Emery could do whatever the hell he wanted to do at the time. He’s an artist, but he creates the coolest campaigns for events.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all of this, but he is strangely really easy to talk to. If anyone else was to ask I’d get a little nervous, not wanting to say the wrong thing and show Grace up, but she’s not paying attention to me right now. Deep in a conversation with the guy to her left–Alex I think, I’m left to fawn over my dream job which I’m getting closer each day to making a reality.

“I don’t even know what my plan is this year, but maybe I should start dreaming bigger.” He says, sighing a little but perking back up when he swipes onto a video of the famous sheep races. I know not many people would want to live the rest of their life in the place they grew up, but everything about the wildness of home captivated me from the first time Dad ever took me hiking. We literally walked out of our sleepy village and up into the rocks, venturing through trees, along loches and didn’t come home for days. We camped, ate in cosy pubs and then on we went to the next location. I demanded we do it every weekend, but I guess Mum wanted to actually see her husband and it became a family tradition we did once a month together. Meeting Harris, my days then turned into adventures on the farm, driving my first tractor, looking after ferrets, helping train sheep dogs and then on to bigger animals. I took to farm life so naturally I couldn’t see myself doing anything else. It’s the only dream I’ve ever had, so I guess I’ll be bonded to my friends for life because I’m probably going to be buried under the large willow that sits upon the tallest hill of Pech Farms. His grandfather used to tell us tales of how the land was named after a battle of Gnomes who fought against the Scots–he’s also bat shit crazy, but the stories were fun and the property incorporated it for most of their advertisements.

“You study English lit too?” I ask him, aware we’re talking heavily only about me.

“Yeah. Not sure what I want to focus on for a dissertation though, but I’ve been writing a sort of paranormal romance and I’m kinda proud of my first draft so far.” He says shyly and it’s kinda nice not to be the one blushing for once. Throughout the entire conversation however, he’s been effortlessly social if I’m honest. Whilst talking to me, he leaned in to the table to be included when needed, raising an eyebrow and nodding at others, whilst at the same time paying me attention. Ogling the cows on screen. He doesn’t miss a beat if someone says his name, but I've just given him my sole focus the entire time I've been here.

One side of my body is already pressed into him, but I gently nudge his shoulder with my own. “That’s really cool, you should be proud! You'll have to let me read it.”

He scoffs. “No writer lets someone read the first draft.”

“Ah, I didn't know! I'm sorry, nevermind.” I rub the back of my neck, nearly elbowing Teddy. Slipping a little closer to my left on the bench, I can practically feel Miles bodyheat through his borrowed hoodie, the thought not making me want to move away. I'm enjoying being able to steal scraps of his attention when someone isn’t speaking to him.

Shaking his free hand in front of him, he turns his body to face me and our knees knock, but remain touching. “I didn't mean it like that, you can read it when I've finished editing the thing a couple of times. I actually have a huge favour to ask, but feel free to say no. I won't take it personally or anything.” His deep voice is low, peaking my curiosity and I lean in more. “There's this film called The Little Vampire, have you heard of it? It's set in Scotland.”

My eyebrows rise in interest. “No way, where was it filmed?”

Miles eyes seem to glimmer with pure joy, like he’s about to tell me about something he really loves, it makes the blue in his eyes practically tropical. “Dunimarle Castle, Culross in Fife and Dundas Castle near Edinburgh. Have you ever been?”

Nothing can hide my smile, it's iridescent and we must look like two fools beaming at each other. “Yeah I have. My dad used to take me on hikes and sometimes we'd go in a campervan to villages before heading up to loches or castles. You'd really like Culross, everyone does! Very quaint.” I can't knock my shoulder with his at this angle, but I do knock my knee against the side of his outer thigh. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed and his eyes fall to where we touch, he smiles and I watch the way a little indent creases at the side of his lips. He has dimples. Have I ever noticed that on another person before? I should find out if Grace has them, really.

“So, for my writing project I was thinking of basing the setting on Dunimarle, for sentimental value. That film was like my childhood you know,” he emphasises his words with bright eyes and I nod, following the cards he's throwing down. “I've never been to Scotland, which is the problem. Could I maybe buy you a coffee and pick your brain?” Half way through his question, I started thinking about the little Yorkshire twang he has to his voice. The opposite to say, Grace. He must be from around here because his accent is regional and I've worked out that the four counties of Yorkshire are broadly different. We're in the north, obviously not as far as home, but it’s soothing, deep and my mouth twitches up at how he drawls some words without effort.

“Ah, fuck, you don't want to. It's fine, don't worry.”

I blink rapidly. What had he asked me? Quickly my brain updates me and I jolt, twisting more on the bench so I'm fully turned to him and holding his shoulder, his skin toasty underneath just a thin old movie t-shirt–it’s Silence of the Lambs. “No, no! I'd love to do that, I mean it's no problem at all. I’ve been to Culross quite a fair bit, so anything to help.”

He does a happy shoulder shimmy, and I swear my heart does this little flip thing I've never felt before. Am I anxious about sharing something personal with a practical stranger? The adventures with Dad are some of my favourite memories.

“Great! Let me give you my number.”

My phone is still in his hands, opened on a picture of a duck sitting upon a tractor. We're sitting so close, it's easy for me to lean in and swipe a couple of times for him to put in his digits. Not missing a beat, he inputs it and adds his name with an emoji of a ghost. Very seasonal.

“Ring me so I have your number.” He says with certainty, just as a chair across from us scrapes and the table jostles. I manage to grab hold of my latte, frowning at how cold the take out cup feels before looking up at Grace who stands alone. There’s a mixture of wariness and what I think is guilt. Adjusting the chair and then rubbing at her arm almost uncomfortably, she picks up her notebook from the table and it’s only then I realise no one else is sitting with us. Teddy is no longer next to me, meaning I’m practically in the guys lap like we’re sharing an intimate moment.

Immediately putting space between us, I unfold my legs and it feels good to stretch them out. They might as well have been wrapped around him from how crunched up I feel. “Are we going?” I fully take her in now and see she’s already got her brown woolen coat on, satchel with her laptop over her shoulder and she turns to the cafe front where I see the rest of her friends outside waiting. Oh.

“Casper, I am so—sooo sorry. I was just in a really intense conversation about first versus third person and, well…” She audibly gulps and my heart sinks, anxiety stabbing at it on its descent. “I forgot you were still here.”

Someone end me now.

Straightening my back, I try to form words but my mouth just opens and shuts like a guppy. Well this is humiliating. Pushing down the hurt, I make excuses up in my head, as to not let my annoyance get the better of me. She was busy with her friends, no doubt touching on her studies and we’d bumped into each other. I’d not been part of her plan, so I couldn’t blame her too much for leaving the coffee house and not at least saying bye. Couldn’t I?

I wonder how long it would have taken her to remember me if she hadn't forgotten her notebook.

“It’s fine,” I clear the granite lodged in my throat, force a soft smile as she gnaws on her bottom lip and fights with her stuff. “I’ll ring you tonight.” Possibly to escape the awkward crater cracking between us, she rushes to the door which shuts with a clatter from the bells attached to the frame above. Only when she’s outside on the street does she look back in, but at Miles instead of me.

Feeling pathetic, I can’t bring myself to even look at him, so I just take my phone out from between his fingers and shove it into my pockets, along with my hands completely. “Well that was tragic. I’m gonna go, it was nice meeting you man.” I say, skin burning right down to my toes.

He doesn’t make excuses for her, nor does he try to lighten the mood like Em would, but his jokes can get a little dark too fast.

“Let’s get a coffee soon.”

I barely nod, just removing my hand to wiggle my fingers in a farewell gesture before I make a beeline for the doorway. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafts with me and I’ve forgotten all about my damp clothes, but the smell from his hoodie soothes me enough until I’m out of the door.

4

Ok, so I think I’ve gotten myself into deep, deep shit.