Page 27 of Toy Boy
Turning away, I head back to the car park, I’m going home now. I’ve seen enough for one day. And tomorrow, well, that’s a brand new one. And I don’t intend to waste a second of it.
6
Megan
“You okay, Megan?”
“Hmm? Sorry, I was miles away there.” I smile at Hanna, slide down from the stool at the counter, and start wiping it down. Which is what I was doing before, I’m not sure why I suddenly decided to sit down and drift off. I can’t even remember what I was thinking about. “I’m fine. I just got a little distracted for a second.”
“I know how that feels,” Hanna sighs, leaning over the counter and resting her chin in her palm.
“What’s got you so distracted, then?” I ask, half smiling as I watch her expression turn into something I can only describe as dreamy frustration, if that makes sense.
“A man.” Her sigh is twice as heavy this time as she turns her head to stare out of the window. “I really like him, but I don’t think he feels the same way. In fact, I’m almost certain he doesn’t, he’s all but said as much. Maybe it’s because he’s a bit older than me, I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks at me, right at me, straightening up and cocking her head slightly. “I’m pretty likeable, right?”
I frown, because that’s an odd question, especially coming from her. “Of course you are! Why do you even feel the need to ask that?”
“I don’t know.” She sighs again, her shoulders sagging, she seems almost defeated. “I just – I really want him to like me, Megan. It’s been ages since I’ve even wanted a relationship, and it’s not like I’m looking for anything serious, I just – I just want some fun, you know?”
I do know, actually. I completely understand where she’s coming from. She’s young and pretty and she deserves some fun. And whoever this man is, the one who doesn’t seem to want to get to know her, he’s an idiot. He could do a lot worse than Hanna.
“Should I keep at it? Keep persisting, I mean, when does persisting turn into pestering?” She crosses her arms and stares back out of the window. “It’s not like it could be anything serious anyway, he isn’t going to be sticking around for long.”
My stomach takes a dive as I suddenly realise who she’s talking about.
“You know I’m talking about Xander, right?” She’s looking at me again, her arms still crossed over her chest. And then her shoulders slump a little, and her expression once again verges on defeated. “He’s sohot! And that accent…” Her gaze shifts upwards, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, and I feel my stomach dip and dive again. But I have no business feeling anything, all that stuff I thought I felt at the pub a couple of nights ago, that was nothing. Just the effects of alcohol and a stupid fantasy that came out of nowhere. What Xander said, about wanting to spend more time with me, he didn’t mean it. I haven’t seen him since that night, and yet, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. But, in reality, he’s off limits to someone like me, I feel ridiculous for even thinking anything could happen. When did that even start? When did I close my eyes and see his face and feel like an infatuated teenager again? “Megan?”
“What? Oh, yes… Xander.”
“I really thought he’d be up for some fun, seeing as he’s only here for the summer.”
I continue to wipe down the counter, all my focus now on how quickly I can swipe this cloth over the already squeaky clean surface.
“Maybe you just need to flirt a little harder.” I stop what I’m doing, and look at Hanna. She’s young, beautiful, and probably much closer to his age. I don’t know what I was even thinking… “Some men just take a lot longer to get the message.” I smile at her, and she throws me a relieved smile back. “Just don’t get too stalker-ish.” I wink at her, and she laughs and heads back into the kitchen. I stop wiping the counter down and walk over to the window, staring out at the fishing boats moored in the harbour, the early morning sun bouncing off the sea, it’s going to be another beautiful day.
I check my watch, we should be opening soon. The café is filled with the smell of grilled sausages, bacon, and pancakes on the griddle. Music plays quietly in the background, and I can hear laughter coming from the kitchen, my pep-talk seems to have worked. Hanna’s mood is lifted, and, I’m guessing, she’s more than likely going to pay Xander another visit at some point today, maybe have another go at trying to win him round. And I hate the way that makes me feel, but I give my head a quick shake, and get rid of all of those ridiculous thoughts. He doesn’t really want to spend more time with me, if he did why haven’t I seen him since that night at the pub? Why hasn’t he been in touch? Been into the café?
I look down and realise I’ve been clutching the cloth so tightly my fingernails have almost cut through the material, and I let go of it like it’s on fire, tossing it down onto a nearby table before I go outside. I need to check the tables out on the terrace, and I could do with some air.
Tables checked, I cross the street and look out over the harbour, and down towards the beach. The surf shop. I can just about see it from up here. Is he there yet? I doubt it. It’s far too early for him to be up, I’m guessing, although, the first time I met him, right here, in this very spot, actually, it was early. Round about this time, so, maybe he’s an early riser. Dropping my head I shake it, digging my hands into my pockets, a small sigh escaping as I realise I’m doing it again. Thinking about him. And I shouldn’t.
Turning around I head back inside, just as my phone rings out and I pull it from my pocket, and sigh again. I’m so not in the mood for Scott right now. How did he even know my number?
“How did you get this number?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“How did you get this number?” I repeat, sitting down at one of the tables outside the café.
“Tim gave it to me… Okay, I forced him to give it to me.”
“Jesus!” I sigh, sitting back and raking a hand through my hair. I’ll be having words about privacy boundaries with Tim as soon as I see him. He’s a fucking police officer, for Christ’s sake! “What do you want?”
“I want to take you to dinner. And I want us to talk.”
“I’m busy.”
“I haven’t even mentioned a time or a date.”