Page 38 of Date Knight (Roll for Romance #2)

For the rest of the afternoon, Amy and I tried our best to avoid each other.

There was a feeling, at least on my end, of having been caught doing something wrong, and whilst I definitely didn’t regret that our feelings had finally caught up with us, I did wonder if perhaps we should have discussed what it meant before going there.

Because the reality was that I didn’t know.

So when we decided to split up to see a few different acts, I was slightly relieved that Amy went with her brother, Morgan, and Fatima to try out the archery range.

Which meant Grey and I ended up babysitting Chloe the rest of the afternoon as she flitted in and out of the drinks tent, having apparently broken up with Lauren yet again and attempting to drown her sorrows in mead.

She was a mead fiend at the best of times, but she was hitting it a bit hard, even for her, waving us off over and over so she could flirt with the bartender, even though she was clearly not interested.

So Grey and I grabbed a bit of food from a nearby truck and found a table where we could keep an eye on her.

Grey asked pretty immediately how things were going with Amy, and I had no idea how to answer. But I’d known them since uni, including all through that summer five years earlier, and of everyone in our little group, they were the most objective.

I rested my head on my hand, running it over my face, smoothing down my beard. “Not well, mate. I think I’m really ballsing this up.”

They laughed, which earned a glare, but they didn’t give a shit. “Sounds about right,” they said. “You never did know how to keep things casual.”

I frowned. “I’m not trying to keep things casual.”

“Yeah, right. If you weren’t holding onto casual with all your might, you two would be shacked up by now.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” I said, stabbing a cheesy chip with a dull wooden fork.

They tilted their head and gave me an exasperated look. “As long as I’ve known you, even before I met Amy, it’s been crystal clear what was bubbling under all that ‘banter’,” they said, using their fingers to make scare quotes around “banter”.

“All that time?” I asked, incredulous. “No way.”

“I mean, when was that summer you wouldn’t shut up about her? Four or so years ago, maybe?”

“Five,” I muttered.

“See? You know exactly what I’m talking about. And it’s always been that way. So maybe don’t try so hard. Maybe just admit that, as long as you’ve both been adults, there’s been something there. Because if you keep fighting that history, you’re gonna lose.”

I sighed. “But that history is the exact problem. If we dive in headfirst and it doesn’t work out, she’s gonna get hurt. I’m gonna get hurt. And everyone else in our lives will suffer for it.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” they said, but I shook my head.

“She’s so important to Ethel already. I don’t wanna imagine what would happen if Amy and I couldn’t be around each other anymore.”

“Well, helpfully you’re adults,” they said, as if it were that easy. “You’ll figure it out. And besides, isn’t it a bit late for that? You’ve been together for months. The damage is done.”

I looked up at them guiltily, knowing that they didn’t have the full story.

But even so, they were right, weren’t they?

Even if Amy and I had fallen out weeks ago, before we’d decided to pretend to be together, Ethel still would have been devastated.

I supposed that was the nature of having anyone in our lives who meant something to us.

Knowing that, of course, forced me to admit something that I’d known all along.

That I wasn’t worried about Ethel, or about Jack and Chloe, or Patricia and Alan, or anyone else.

It was me. Because I was the only one who would end up more devastated if things ended after I let myself go there.

I was the one who would suffer the emotional fallout if it all went tits up.

And hadn’t I had enough of that in my life?

“And I hope you don’t mind me saying,” Grey said, interrupting my thoughts by reaching across to pluck my last cheesy chip from right in front of me.

I looked up at them incredulously as they popped it into their mouth.

“You might as well go all in,” they said, “because from the look of it, you’re already fucked. ”

* * *

Eventually we had to drag Chloe away from the mead, and from the poor bartender just trying to do her job. We forced our little drunkard to get her face painted so she would have to sit still for a while, and by the time she had a flower design wreathing her face, she was a little less merry.

Next we headed over to the giant wicker stag they’d be burning later.

We were meant to meet the others at the barrier surrounding it to get a good spot, but we were a bit early.

There was a gap in the barrier, and people were walking up to the huge sculpture, taking pictures, and tucking little pieces of paper between the woven strands.

“You can write down a wish, or an intention,” a volunteer said to me, beckoning me over to a table covered with pieces of paper and pens. “Whatever change you want to take place. Then, when they’re burned, the magic of the stag will make it so.”

I nodded, well practised from my time with Amy in going along with things that I didn’t necessarily buy into. But something about the idea piqued my interest.

“So I can write down anything?” I asked, and the man nodded. “Like, if I’m afraid of something, and I write that down, will it help me move past it?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Why don’t you give it a go? What’s the worst that could happen?”

I walked over and accepted the paper and pen the man held out to me, then bent over to use the table. I stayed there for a long moment, wondering what exactly I should write, before it came to me.

I will let myself want things, even if I’m afraid of losing them.

I folded the paper in half and found a spot for it right in the middle of the stag’s belly. It felt a bit silly, offering my intention to this wicker beast, but like the man had said, what harm could it do? And like Grey had said, I might as well go all in.

Just as I came out of the circle, the others arrived to meet us, Amy arm in arm with Morgan. I tried to pull her aside as she walked up, but she just stopped and shook her head, still facing the others.

“Let’s not do this,” she said quietly over her shoulder. “I think you’ve made it pretty clear that we don’t actually want the same thing.”

“It’s really not like that,” I said, but she shushed me and kept going.

“It’s fine,” she said, unconvincingly. “I’m fine. Just please don’t confuse me like that again if it’s not something you really want. It’s not fair.”

I opened my mouth to explain, but she shook her head and walked away.

She settled on the side of the group furthest away from me, and as badly as I wanted to go to her and make her listen, to tell her that I was scared and that I did want her, I could tell that she was holding it together as best she could.

And I didn’t want to be the reason she couldn’t do that in front of our friends.

So as the thousands of other festival goers crowded around the big stag, I instead settled in the grass next to Jack to watch the ritual unfold.

When the stag lit, cheers erupted from the crowd, and I looked over at Amy, who was cuddled up next to Chloe, sharing her shawl around both their shoulders as the evening breeze blew through.

I could see the orange light of the flames bouncing off her golden hair and reflecting in her eyes, which were wet and wide.

I needed her here in my arms, not over there where I knew she was feeling like I didn’t want her.

I swore I could feel the moment my paper burned, because that was it.

I was head over heels for Amy Evans, and there was no going back.

And soon she would know it. I was such an idiot.

I’d berated Chris, both in my mind and to Amy, so many times for not knowing what he had in front of him.

But it turned out, one could be acutely aware of the magnificence of what they had and still manage to let it slip through their fingers.

I promised myself that if I got another chance, I wouldn’t let it happen again.

I would tell her exactly how I felt about her, consequences be damned.