Page 41 of Washed Up

No kiss. Should she include a kiss? Was it weird without one? Would he doubt her intentions? Did people still talk about intentions? Damn, she was in serious need of an ice cream.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for an inordinately long amount of time.

What was she doing?

What if he thought she was a stalker?

What if she’d imagined the whole thing? Maybe he was just being nice. But then, if he was just being nice, he wouldn’t mind a direct message, would he? He had told her to look him up, after all.

She tapped the button before she could spiral any further.

Sent.

Now all she could do was wait.

Oh and google to see if by some miracle his next gig was going to be live streaming. It wasn’t. Not the first time, or even the hundredth and twenty-first time, she checked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Frankie was tucking into her celebratory/soothe your nerves Guernsey ice cream – banana flavour for the win – when a voice made her nearly deposit the whole thing into the nearest dune.

‘There you are.’

It was Jake. Before she could respond, he plonked himself down on the sand beside her and wrapped his arms around his knees, mirroring her. She was instantly self-conscious about licking and tried to take a ladylike bite of the creamy, soft ice cream instead. Instant brain freeze, but at least it meant she didn’t have to talk.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he said in a low voice. He had a cap pulled down over his blond hair, and his tanned face was handsome in the sunshine, all clean lines and angles.

She raised her eyebrows, hoping that was a sufficient response.

‘He’s gone, then?’ said Jake.

This time she nodded, her ice cream wobbling precariously.

He cleared his throat. ‘Well, good riddance, I say. This is hardly the place for someone like him.’

When she still didn’t reply he turned and regarded her for a long moment. ‘Aren’t you speaking to me?’

‘I’m eating,’ she mumbled. ‘Surely that’s obvious.’

‘Just checking,’ he said, holding his hands up, his eyes on her mouth as she ate. Her cheeks warmed.

‘What do you mean, someone like him?’ she said, not really wanting to hear the answer.

‘Well, you know. Famous. Rich. He’s a celebrity, Franks.’ She shuddered at the nickname. It had never bothered her before but now, for some reason, it made her cringe.

‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘Did you know this the whole time?’

Jake shook his head. ‘Not the whole time, no. Sally told me in the pub. I wouldn’t have known him from Adam, to be honest. Not really up on my celebrity gossip.’

She crunched the last shreds of the cone between her fingers.

‘Still, you knew he was the bloody lead singer in a bloody band and you didn’t tell me?’

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. ‘You didn’t give me the chance. Why are you scowling?’

‘What do you mean, why am I scowling? He told me who he was and I legit didn’t believe him. I thought it was all a big wind-up. And now I find out you were all in on it.’

‘Not all. Only me, I think. And maybe Michael. Though we weren’t in on anything, I should add. I thought you were just playing it cool. We were all just playing it cool. That’s what you do, isn’t it? With celebrities? Act normal.’