Page 43 of Total Creative Control

Well. That was clear enough.

“Right,” Aaron said, his heart still rabbiting. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “Yeah, right. Good idea. I’ll just…” He indicated the promenade above them, suddenly desperate for some distance. “I’ll go and google a local cab company.”

And with that the evening was over, like fireworks bursting in the night sky and fading to nothing.

Chapter Eleven

Lewis

Lewis didn’t usually sleep well at Safehaven, but that night—and despite his mind teeming with thoughts of Aaron on the beach and what had very much felt like an almost-kiss—he had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

He was woken by the shimmery notes of his phone alarm, feeling well-rested. Scratching his belly, he yawned and stretched, then got out of bed, padding to the bathroom to take a piss.

On his way back to bed, he spied his laptop, open on the desk, reminding him that he still hadn’t so much as glanced at the workshop information pack. He’d better at least give it a quick onceover before he went down.

Sighing, he flicked the laptop on and, while it booted up, investigated the contents of the tea tray glumly. Needless to say, there was no hot chocolate to be found, only the dreaded herbal teas. Grumbling, he went to the mini-fridge instead and selected a goji berry kombucha. It didn’t taste too bad, to be fair, though it needed more sugar in his opinion.

Plunking himself back down on the bed, he grabbed the laptop and opened his email, quickly locating the email from Charlie’s assistant.

“The link to your personalised guided mediation is below”—hmmm, no time for that—“and information on the workshop is attached. Please do read this carefully.”

He glanced at the time. Fuck. It was already 6:47. And he still had to shower.

Quickly, he opened the attachment, groaning when he saw it was sixty-three pages long. The cover featured a woman with blonde dreads who looked a bit like Tilda Swinton. She was in a sort of half-squat with her arms above her head and her eyes closed, her expression slightly anxious. She looked sort of constipated, Lewis thought.

Underneath the photo, it said,Movement therapy: release toxic emotions; let your creativity thrive.

Shit.

It was worse than he’d imagined.

Panic flapped like a trapped bird in his chest as he swiftly scrolled through pages that were dense with text and peppered with images of the same, severe-looking woman.Hippolyta Grant, the text informed him.Energetic healing and wellbeing professional.

The final page was entitled,What preparation do I need to do for the workshop?

His gaze dropped to the opening paragraph.

All you need is loose, comfortable clothing…

Oh, thank God!

… and a willingness to open yourself up emotionally to the group.

Shit.

He didn’t bother reading any further, tossing the laptop aside and heading for the shower, which he set to cold, for no reason other than that it took his mind off what was coming up. When he finally emerged, teeth chattering, he briskly towelled dry and quickly donned his running gear, since it was that or jeans, and he was definitely more comfortable in running trousers.

Once dressed, he glanced at himself in the mirror and frowned. He just knew this was going to be awful. And whatever it entailed, he was going to have to go through it with Aaron, which was both a relief and a worry. He’d far rather it was Aaron than anyone else—the very thought of touching Charlie Alexander while ‘opening up emotionally’ had him practically dry-heaving—but after last night, he wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw Aaron this morning.

What a night it had been.

What a stupidly perfect night.

Lewis groaned aloud and turned away from the mirror.

It had been one of those time out of time things. Just the two of them, him and Aaron, in that little seasidey town, away from everyone they knew, away from the office, as though real life didn’t exist. Drinking beer and eating salty chips in the fading warmth of the late summer day. Laughing. Playing air hockey. A thrilling, intoxicating mix of the familiar and the new.

He closed his eyes and saw Aaron on the beach, standing in the freezing cold waves with his head tipped back.