Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,76

beneath our outstretched legs.

“Just because I gave permission for my name to be used doesn’t mean my family did.”

“So you and Thomas –,” the name sounded foreign on his lips, “were you close?”

I shook my head. A lie.

I had thought Thomas hung the moon growing up. He’d even help me with pas de deux, as long as we did it in the backyard where none of the other neighborhood kids could see him doing something so girlie as ballet. As he got older, I was convinced videogames had stolen my favorite playmate from me.

“We had very different interests,” was all I said.

“That’s a bit impersonal.” He used his leg to nudge my shorter one.

“Well then, you first. Please, share with me all your personal family inter-workings,” I shot back.

“Point taken.” He shut down so quickly it almost made me actually want to know. I couldn’t ask though, not when an answer of his would leave me owing him one of my own. “In fact, as you were so eager to point out, this is not a date, so why are we doing so much talking anyways?”

“Finally, a question I can get behind!” My head thumped backwards against the hallow wood with exasperation.

“Is that right, mate?” His demeanor changed in an instant. With lazy ease he leaned into me. My eyes fluttered shut with craving. The smell of him and the ocean swirled together as one perfect scent. It was intoxicating.

A loud melody intercepted the moment, and Declan’s head fell to my shoulder in defeat. I wrestled the singing phone from my back pocket.

“You’re really going to answer that right now?” He stopped me from flipping it open.

I stared at him obliviously. Why wouldn’t I answer it?

“It’s Cam.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can read; thanks.”

I wanted to grab his chin and point his intense stare elsewhere.

“Hello,” I said to the speaker, taking my chance to break our gaze, but the screen was already lit up citing ‘1 Missed Call.’

A heavy sigh sat on my chest. It was pretty late on the East Coast. I hoped everything was okay.

“Oh, don’t look so distraught. The man wrote a book about you. I’m sure he’ll call back.”

What the hell? His sudden change took me by surprise, and I sat back, assessing him.

And then it hit me. “Are you jealous?”

“Aren’t you just up yourself?” He hastily climbed to his feet.

“Is that some more of your freaky slang, because you know perfectly well that I can’t understand you.”

He narrowed his eyes into silver slits, striking me.

“I’m as jealous of Cam as you were of Candace Harris,” he ignored my comment and took a clean shot at me.

The truth was that I’d been none too pleased watching him blatantly flirt with the personal assistant candidate. But it wasn’t because I was jealous! I’d always erred on the side of possessive. It was a side effect of my pampered upbringing I couldn’t seem to shake. I didn’t like other people touching my toys…Or, in this case, the boy I was using for sex.

“Well then I guess I was mistaken.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I guess so.” He fingers tapped their tune on the railing, and we found an awkward silence.

“We should get gelato,” I blurted out, trying to chase the tension away.

“Gelato?” My outburst was enough to jolt him back to some version of normal.

I nodded eagerly, happy to return to a safe place.

“There’s this great place up the beach we can walk to. Thomas would get the munchies and take me there. He’d even buy mine as a bribe so I’d tell mom and dad we’d been at the library.”

“Charming bloke,” he snorted. It wasn’t his real laugh, but I’d take it nonetheless.

“Yeah, he kind of was,” I mumbled. He hadn’t heard me though, already making his way down the sand abused ramp.

“Just let me go grab my jacket from the car.” He didn’t wait on me to follow him.

When he jogged back to where I stood at the edge of the parking lot, sand dusted off his shoes with each step. We’d have to remember to shake them off before getting back into Lazarus’ car. Sand was a bitch to get out of upholstery. The little two-door beamer I used to drive had miniature beaches where there once had been floor mats, and I wasn’t even a beach person, only going on special occasions and hot days when I wasn’t locked inside a dance studio.

“Ready for the best gelato you’ve ever tasted, 8 Mile,”