Page 55 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

As if she’s thinking the same thing, Lee takes a step back.

‘You know, I am actually pretty tired,’ she says. ‘I think I’m going to head to bed.’

‘Of course,’ I cough. ‘Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be…’ I gesture towards Phoebe’s room. Then I turn and grab my own glass from the cupboard, keeping my hands busy so that they don’t reach for her.

‘Okay, goodnight,’ I hear her say.

‘’Night,’ I reply, but I don’t look around. I don’t watch her disappear into my bedroom, getting ready to climb into my bed.

Because there’s only so much a guy can take.

Chapter Eighteen

Lee

I wake up to the low murmur of Phoebe and Nico starting their day, and I drag myself out of bed and get dressed, sending Gran my daily text requesting proof of life. She sends back a photograph of today’s paper and a ticket for this evening’s performance of Magic Mike Live. It’s Monday, and my first official day as a fake resident of Roseport.

When I leave my room it’s just gone 8 a.m., and I find a set of keys sitting on the kitchen counter along with a short note.

Had an early start and didn’t want to disturb you. I’m walking to the inn – left the keys to the truck so you won’t be stranded here.

N x

Nico must have taken Taco with him as well because the house is eerily quiet. I drift around the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of orange juice and drinking it while looking out of the window. The silence is soothing and I sit down to do some work, but despite the fact that I did an intense amount of socialising yesterday, it’s only a couple of hours before I start feeling restless.

It’s another beautiful day, and even though I know all those people at the meeting last night are out there, the urge to venture outside is overwhelming. Kat told me she owns a coffee shop in town and invited me to stop in any time. Coffee doesn’t sound too scary.

I grab my laptop and slip it into my bag before heading out. I don’t drive much, and Nico’s car is the size of a small tank, but thankfully the wide American roads are a lot more forgiving than London streets. Still, it takes me several minutes of driving around before I find a parking space enormous enough that I feel comfortable pulling into it.

‘Morning, Lee,’ someone calls as I clamber down from the truck.

I start. ‘Oh, yes, good morning,’ I say to the man passing me with his small, fussy-looking dog. I have no idea who he is, but it doesn’t seem to matter as he carries on his way.

I turn in the direction of the café, and get about three steps down the street, before a woman pushing a toddler in a stroller stops to say hello. ‘Good morning, Lee!’

‘Morning,’ I reply faintly, and I swear the toddler waves a tiny fist in greeting.

On the remaining walk to the café – which can’t be more than fifty metres from the car – seven more people say good morning to me. This is more social interaction than I typically have with people over a forty-eight-hour period.

When I push open the door to Bean & Gone, the handful of customers inside all turn and greet me in the sort of cheerful chorus you’d hear in one of those arty horror movies about a Stepford community that wants to offer up the newcomer to devil worship.

I mutter my weak hellos, and make my way to the counter where Kat stands, her hair scrunched up in a messy bun, a cloth thrown over her shoulder.

‘Morning, Lee!’ she deliberately echoes the creepy singsong voices.

‘Who are all these people?’ I whisper.

‘Is that a genuine question?’ Kat asks. ‘Because you are going to have to get to know everyone. I was thinking that you could use some flashcards.’

I brighten at this. ‘Actually flashcards would be great.’ If there’s one thing I am good at, it’s studying.

‘I was joking,’ Kat laughs, but when my face falls she quickly adds, ‘but I’ll get Mei on it – that’s the kind of crafty shit she gets a real kick out of. It’s the teacher in her.’

‘I’ll take all the help I can get,’ I say nervously. ‘I’m going to be terrible at this.’

She looks surprised. ‘No, you’re not.’

‘Oh yeah,’ I nod, ‘I am. I’m such a textbook anxious introvert. I have a very limited social battery, it can get drained pretty quick.’