Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“What do your notes say? Is it bad?”
Carl shook his head. “It’s clear you love music and that shows in your playing. I hope you keep your enthusiasm, it helps when you have to perform a piece that you might not be as comfortable with.”
Leo nodded. “What will we do next lesson?”
“Wait and see. Playing the piano takes much patience. Consider this practice.”
“Sure! Mum asked if you could pop by the bakery after we’d finished?”
“Lead the way, Master Leo.”
Carl followed Leo to the bakery with heavy steps. His original intention had been to help Leo against his bullies, but did going this far make Carl the bully?
Carl gulped. He needed to get out of any more fake lessons. The last thing he ever wanted was to cause anyone pain.
“Leo,” Carl said thickly. “You remember how I said I was stupid—”
“Look, Grayson’s here.” Leo ran into the bakery.
Carl let out a deep breath, entered after Leo and, seeing him happily chatting to Grayson who was typing on his laptop in the corner, veered to the counter for Sage.
Sage brightened. “Thanks for popping by. I wanted to ask you over for dinner tonight. You’ll come, won’t you? Please?”
“Sure.” How could he say no to such big, puppy-dog eyes?
Sage called over Carl’s shoulder. “You want to come too?”
“I’m . . . good,” Grayson said.
Leo batted his puppy-dog eyes and Grayson scrubbed the shadow forming on his jaw.
Sage added, “I really want to thank you both for helping so much with Leo.”
Of course Grayson helped with Leo too. Probably tutored him in computer studies. Or showed him how to write a CV.
Carl glanced at Grayson, who kept staring at his computer screen while saying, “It’s no biggie. I don’t need thanking.”
“Please? Please come.”
Grayson started packing up his things, avoiding looking their way. What was up with him?
“Sorry, I’m booked up tonight.” He checked his phone. “Gotta run.” He waved to Leo and battled a few chairs on his way to the door.
Sage tutted. “Then let’s us have dinner together,” she said.
“Should I bring anything?”
“Just yourself. You’re single right?”
“Huh?”
“My cousin Poppy—actually Alex, but everyone calls him Poppy—has been wanting to come round for dinner for a while. Can I invite him too? Maybe you’ll hit it off.”
Chair legs skidded over the floor and Carl jerked his head towards Grayson, suddenly back and searching the floor for . . . something he left behind?
Sage looked at Carl, waiting for an answer. “Oh. I’m recovering from a breakup.”
“So sorry. When did that happen?”
“About a year ago.”
“A year! Well then isn’t it time to dip your feet back into the dating pool?”
“Um . . .” He was here to nurse his heart back to health, not bash it about some more.
“Even if it’s just for a fling.”
Fling.
The word hit him with a strange giddy plummeting. Of course he was put off ever falling in love again, but . . . a fling. Giving in to desire. Having fun . . .
There was something weirdly liberating in Sage’s suggestion. Enjoying a moment. Sex. It wasn’t like he couldn’t. “I mean, I am single . . .”
Another chair protested against floorboards as Grayson, much slower this time, made his way back to the door.
“It’s a date then,” Sage said, clapping.
“Not a date.”
“No, no, you’ll only meet him. He’ll be totally into you, though. You’re his type.”
The door shut loudly, startling Sage and Leo. And Carl murmured, “Gosh, the wind in Wellington is really something.”
He stayed another few minutes enjoying a coffee at the bakery, and then made the two-minute trek home, where he found Grayson outside his gate holding a bike.
“Thought you were busy,” Carl said, crossing to him.
Grayson’s gaze was darker under the shadows of his helmet and it hit Carl with a zap. “Client’s sick, they cancelled. Got time for a bike ride?”
Carl grabbed Jason’s bike, jammed Toto on his head, and told Grayson to lead the way. They pedalled leisurely down to the beach and along the coast under a warm, curiously calm sky.
He breathed in the scent of salt water and almost felt the crashing of the waves against the rocks. Seagulls squawked overhead and their bikes hummed. A few small boats dotted shimmery turquoise-and-navy water, and Grayson riding ahead looked like he was in a scene from a movie.
Carl enjoyed the view. So much, he careened into Grayson’s back wheel when he halted at a cosy, quiet beach not too far from where surfer Grayson had saved Jason’s bike from pre-teen thugs.
Carl clambered off his bike and helped Grayson pick up his. They locked them up together, and set off down some stairs to the soft sand. Carl immediately kicked off his shoes, tied them together and draped them over his shoulders. He sank his feet into the warm, yellow sand. Grayson did the same, and pointed towards a driftwood log where they could sit.