Page 10 of Going Solo (The Brent Boys #2)

Chapter Seven

T he little bell above the salon door tinkled, and adrenaline flooded my body like rosé floods Aunty Cheryl’s bloodstream every night from half past five. I looked up from my phone to see Orla Kennedy stride in. She was followed by a shorter, rounder version of herself—Fiona—who was followed by Cole. No leather jacket today, but he was carrying his guitar like he never left home without it. He was in a vest and a zip-up hoodie open to the waist. The sleeves weren’t wide enough for his biceps. He looked well fit.

“You orright?” I said, leaning over the counter to kiss Orla on the cheek.

Mum shouted hello from across the salon, and Orla waved back.

“This is Cole’s big sister, Fiona,” Orla said, turning her attention back to me. “She’s home from Cambridge for the summer. She’s studying law.”

Fiona blushed with embarrassment. Orla probably bragged about that at every opportunity. I leaned over for an air kiss and wished her a happy birthday.

“And you know Cole, of course.”

Cole offered me a hand to shake, as if we’d just played ninety minutes of heterosexual football and were off to heterosexually shower with our heterosexual teammates. I grabbed his hand, pulled him into me, and pecked him on the cheek. The smell of him, his hand in mine, sent a charge through my body.

The whole salon had gone quiet, as if everyone knew exactly what was going on. Cole blushed. I looked down at the booking ledger, trying to appear charming and professional, but my nerves had kicked in.

“So, it’s two of Chloe’s Deluxe Pamper Packages, including facials, nails, and a cut and colour for you today, ladies. Orla, you’ll be with Mum. She’ll be with you in a minute. Fiona, you’ll be with Cheryl. Apologies in advance if you can smell booze on her breath. That’ll be, well, the booze on her breath.” I lowered my voice. “She went to three different hen dos last night. Occupational hazard, innit?”

Fiona looked alarmed.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” I said, reassuringly. “Her hands have stopped shaking now. Be grateful you weren’t her nine o’clock. Mrs Fitzpatrick went home looking like she’d been mugged by a gang of amateur wig makers.”

Fiona gripped her lustrous auburn locks like she was farewelling them at an airport. I realised I’d overdone the charming and failed at the professional.

“I’m only winding you up!” I said. “You two take a seat. Mum and Aunty Cheryl will be with you in a minute.” Fiona laughed nervously and let her shoulders drop. “And what about you, Cole?” I said, looking at his floppy mop of thick black hair. “Fancy a trim while you’re here?”

“I’m going down to 78s,” he said. This part of the conversation was entirely planned. 78s was the record store up the far end of the high street. No one ever went in there except old dudes and hardcore musos because, let’s be honest, Spotify existed. Cole ran a hand through his hair, and it swooshed back into place. His eyes locked on to mine again, and he smirked, which made me smirk. Surely everyone knew what was up? The air between us was so pregnant with expectation, I should probably have pissed on a stick.

“I get off in half an hour,” I said. “What if I come find you at 78s? We can get some lunch and maybe find a bench in Castle Park?”

He nodded. “Sounds good.” He seemed so calm. I was drenched in sweat.

Cole winked, said goodbye to the women in his life, and disappeared up the street.

Thirty minutes later I was rushing out the door when Aunty Cheryl summoned me to the back of the salon, pulling the red velvet curtains closed behind us.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, babes, what is it?”

She held a finger to her lips, hushing me—the perfectly painted watermelon-pink acrylic nail matching her lip gloss to perfection.

“Fine, but why are we whispering?”

Aunty Cheryl’s watermelon-pink nail disappeared into the pocket of her spray-on super skinny three-quarter-length jeans, and she plucked out two shiny gold packets.

“Safety first, babes, OK? Always.”

I screeched, put my fingers in my ears, closed my eyes, and jogged up and down.

“No, no, no, no!” I said. I could have died right then and there. Here lies Tobias Lyngstad, sixteen, killed by the world’s most embarrassing aunt. She snatched my hand from my ear, prised my fingers open, and shoved the condoms into my palm.

“This ain’t a joke, Tobes. This is your health.”

I opened my eyes. “Are you kidding me?” I growled through gritted teeth, jamming the packets in my pocket to hide them before anyone burst through the curtains. “Cole’s mum is three metres away!”

“And hopefully she’s been responsible too.”

“I’m not going to… we’re just… we’re not… we’ve haven’t even?—”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry, Tobes.”

The perfectly painted watermelon-pink acrylic was now tapping at my chest.

“I was a teenager once, Tobes. I remember what teenage boys are like.”

“You’re so embarrassing!”

“Listen up, it’s your body, your rules. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. This is in case you decide you do want to do something, orright?”

“You’re literally killing me,” I said.

Aunty Cheryl grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug.

“You’re welcome, babes.”

* * *

Cole was waiting outside the record store, leaning back against the shop wall with his guitar case slung across his front and a couple of vinyl albums under his arm. He looked like an album cover. Effortlessly cool. I trotted up the street towards him like a hog after its breakfast, cursing myself as I felt a trickle of sweat roll down my back. Cole turned and saw me, his face cracking into a big smile.

“Hey, you made it.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I worried he might feel dampness. I twisted into him to try to hug him properly and kiss his cheek, but the guitar between us made it awkward.

“Watch the new vinyl! This is the Velvet Underground anniversary edition.”

“Sorry!” I jumped back, abandoning my attempt to kiss him and cursing my clumsiness.

“I’m starving. Do you still want to grab some lunch and sit in the park?” Cole asked.

“Absolutely. I’ve booked us a table at the finest restaurant I could afford. It’s on the way.”

Twenty minutes later, unable to find a free bench in Castle Park, we were sitting on the grass, shoving Big Macs into our mouths and admiring the thousand-year-old castle the Normans had built on the site of some old Roman ruins.

“Have you ever been in?” I asked.

Cole nodded. “School trip. I love ancient history. I was obsessed with Queen Boudica.”

“I’ve always vibed with Boudica,” I said, slurping on my Coke. “Probably because she burnt Colchester to the ground, which is an idea I can really get behind.”

Cole laughed.

It was a glorious day, and the midday sun was beating down on us. The park was bustling with people enjoying their lunch breaks. A couple of fit lads had taken their shirts off. I felt a bead of armpit sweat roll down my side.

“It’s a hot one today,” Cole said, stripping off his hoodie to reveal the vest underneath. “Aren’t you hot?” As he sank his teeth into his Big Mac, I tried not to stare at the lean, firm muscles of his arms, pretended not to notice the way his shoulders were more heavily tanned than his biceps, tried not to imagine whatever shirtless agricultural labours had created this body. I wanted to lean over and kiss him, but he had a mouth full of hamburger. Sweat trickled from my other armpit. Cole pointed at my chest, apparently suggesting I take off my top.

“In the middle of Colchester? No way. You must be mental.”

Cole shook his head and pointed again. I looked down to see I’d spilt tomato sauce and mayo all down my T-shirt.

“Bollocks!”

Already dying of embarrassment, I grabbed for a napkin to wipe it up, knocking over my Coke and sending black sugary liquid and half-melted ice across the lawn towards Cole’s hoodie and guitar.

“Sorry!”

“It’s OK, don’t worry about it.” Cole laughed, plucking his belongings out of harm’s way.

I dragged the napkin up my white T-shirt, trying to scoop up the bulk of the sauce and succeeding in smearing it everywhere. Why was this all going wrong? My hand started to shake, and I hesitated.

“Here, let me do it.”

Suddenly Cole was on his knees on the grass in front of me, a napkin in his hand, dabbing at the tomato sauce. His face was inches from mine. The swoosh of his hair brushed my face, tickling my skin, making the hair on my arms stand on end. Cole’s face was set in concentration, his eyes determined, his brow furrowed. It was so sexy. I couldn’t look away, even as he dabbed gently at my chest. He looked up. Our eyes met.

“It’s a goner, I’m afraid,” he said. “This needs stain remover and a washing machine.”

Cole’s eyes were burning with intensity. His lips were so close. Was this the moment? Was I about to have my first kiss? My mouth felt dry. I swallowed, ran my tongue across my lips—and found a sesame seed in the corner of my mouth. And my butt felt wet. The Coke had found my jeans. I wanted to cry. This whole stupid day was a write-off. I’d humiliated myself in front of a lad I had a massive crush on—the only guy who’d ever been interested in me. I’d ruined it.

“Sorry. I think I want to go home.”

“We can do that.”

“No, I mean, I have to go.” I stood up, brushing my greasy hands on my jeans. I felt crushed, empty. Cole was never going to want to see me again after this. I had to get out of there.

Cole stood. “Whatever you need. We can hang out another time.”

I froze, letting the words sink in. He still wanted to see me again?

“Can I walk you home, maybe? Is it far?”

“I’ll probably get an Uber.”

Cole rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and ran his hand through his swooshy hair.

“You know, it’s a shame because I didn’t give you your surprise yet.”

I’d forgotten he’d promised one, and I’m not going to lie, I was intrigued.

“I worked hard on it. And I have, like, at least three more hours to kill before Mum and Fi will be ready. I should get this vinyl out of the sun, anyway. And, frankly, I wouldn’t mind some air con either.”

I laughed. “OK then.”

“There we go. There’s that cute smile.” Cole put one hand lightly on my shoulder. “Come here, you saucy minx,” he said, pulling me into a hug. My breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded. This was our first proper hug. It felt so real. So right. So romantic. It felt… so incredibly sweaty.

“Plus, I want to see those Strawberry Shortcake pyjamas in the flesh,” he said.

* * *

Everything in my bedroom was embarrassing. The dresser covered in bottles of hair product, make-up, scent, and spray tan. The old Jonas Brothers posters on the wall. The Lady Gaga ARTPOP duvet cover. This was my inner sanctum. This was who I was—the stuff that made me happy. But, to my mind, it wasn’t cool enough for Cole.

Cole leaned his guitar against the wall, put his precious vinyl down on my desk, and headed straight for a picture frame containing the historical record of one of the best nights of my life.

“Is this you?”

“ That is Girls Aloud,” I said, digging through my wardrobe for fresh clothes.

Cole tapped on the glass.

“And yes,” I said, “the fat little kid clinging to Nadine Coyle’s neck like he plans to make a souvenir trophy of her head is me.”

“When was this?”

“When they played the Millennium Dome. Maybe five years ago. Mum got me tickets to the meet-and-greet. I’m going for a quick shower. Do not snoop while I’m gone.”

Cole put up his hand like he was swearing on a Bible.

“Scout’s honour.”

When I came back ten minutes later, dirty clothes rolled up in my arms, Cole was sitting on the edge of my bed, plucking away at his guitar. His eyes lit up.

“Strawberry Shortcake!”

I curtsied. “As requested.”

Cole put his guitar behind him on the bed.

“You look super cute,” he said, smiling, and I felt a blush that started at my toes and roasted its way up through my whole body to my face like I was being burnt at the stake.

Cole stood. He stepped towards me, looking sexy, sweet, determined. This was it. This was the moment. I closed my eyes, waiting for the soft touch of Cole’s lips on mine. Instead, I felt him grab the dirty clothes from my hands.

“We should put that T-shirt in to soak,” he said.

Instinctively, I reached for them. “I can do it later.”

“Mum always says the earlier the better when it comes to stains.”

Now we were having this weird tussle, both grappling for my pile of clothes.

“It won’t take a minute,” Cole said.

“I’ll do it later!” I yanked the clothes out of his hands—but Cole didn’t release them, and as the bundle spilt open, Aunty Cheryl’s condoms fell out of my jeans and onto the floor between us. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. My mouth went dry, and I completely lost the ability to speak.

“They’re not mine!”

“Oh.” Cole bent down and picked them up, the gold packets shimmering between his fingers. He bit his lip. “Were you expecting…”

“No! God no!”

Cole’s eyes sparkled. “Because, I mean, if you want to?—”

“Gosh, no! I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Cole burst out laughing. It came from deep inside his belly and lit up his whole face. I closed my eyes, willing an assassin’s bullet to end my humiliation with a clean kill.

I felt Cole’s hand rest gently on my shoulder. “Toby, it’s OK.”

I shook my head.

“It really is,” he said.

I felt his other hand hold my hip, felt him gently step towards me, pull my body towards his, felt his soft lips against mine. That’s when it finally happened. Tobias Lyngstad. Sixteen and finally been kissed. It was gentle, sweet, perfect. It was the first kiss I had always dreamt of, and I knew for certain, this was more than a crush. I opened my eyes to find Cole smiling, looking at me like it was the first time he’d ever even seen me.

“Hello, you,” he said.

I giggled. “Hi.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m nervous. Aren’t you nervous?”

“Bricking it.”

“You’re not shaking, though.”

“I am. I think our shakes have probably synchronised so we can no longer feel it.”

I laughed. Cole grabbed my hands and sat down on the bed, pulling me down to sit beside him.

“Do you want your surprise?” Cole said.

I wanted another kiss, but I nodded.

“I wrote this song for you.” Cole reached behind us, plucked his guitar from the bed, and began strumming the chords. As he started to sing, his eyes found mine.

“ I’m sitting on this tractor, going round and round this field. Slowly getting nowhere, when I want to get to you .”

I nearly choked on a giggle and had to pretend I was clearing my throat. I put a hand against Cole’s back, partly to encourage him and partly to smother my guilt at finding this so cringey.

“ Got up before dawn, to sit behind this wheel. Going round in circles. Driven mad for want of you. ”

For the next two minutes or so, Cole sang his heart out. He’d put so much work into this song, and the musicality was genuinely great, but the lyrics were, shall we say, clunky. When he was done, I leaned in and kissed him.

“Thank you. That was beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

I snorted.

“I think you’re beautiful.” Cole stood and put his guitar down against the wall. “If the song didn’t give it to you, I think you’re the most amazing boy I ever met.”

I felt my face burn red and my heart thump harder. “What are you like?”

He picked up his vinyl. “You don’t have a player, do you?”

I shook my head. Cole took his phone out of his pocket.

“Have you ever heard the Velvet Underground before?”

I shook my head again. As the tinkling music started to play, Cole moved slowly towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. He rested his hand on my shoulder, the back of his fingers gently tracing their way up my neck and along my jaw until his thumb found my chin. I gripped Cole’s waist. He leaned in and kissed me. Short and sweet. Then he pulled off his vest—his flat stomach and bare torso filling my whole field of vision like the world’s sexiest IMAX cinema screen. I could barely breathe. My entire body was tingling. My pyjama bottoms were hiding nothing. Cole straddled me, his knees sinking into the mattress. His lips found mine. As we leaned back, his body found mine. Finally, my head found the wall.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry!”

After a pause to confirm there was no damage, we lay down the correct way along the bed. I closed my eyes to move in for a kiss, misjudged, and we smacked our teeth together.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry!”

After about half an hour, we’d got the hang of making out. Our hands were exploring each other’s bodies—hungrily, urgently—and, eventually, unable to resist any more, I reached down and grabbed the little gold packets Aunty Cheryl had given me.

“Are you sure?” Cole said. I was well beyond the point of no return, but Cole had clearly internalised Fiona’s lectures about consent, and I rated that.

“Yes,” I said, breathlessly, having never wanted anything so much in my entire life.

In that moment, I would have given Cole Kennedy the world. It felt like he was giving me the world. As the Velvet Underground sang softly about pale blue eyes—perfect, somehow, for the moment—we pressed our naked bodies together, and poked and probed and winced and laughed and fumbled our way towards our urgent, ultimate, cataclysmic goal. And I felt more whole, more complete, more full , than I had ever felt in my entire life.