Consumed

“You dumped me because you were in a mood?” she asked. Her facial expression pointed out how she felt about this — her tone of voice backed it up.

“I remember being gutted a few hours later. I wanted to call you and explain… I had made a mistake… I…”

“You had made a mistake?” Lara pounced on his words.

Joel nodded. “That’s how I felt. Wished I could take the text back.”

“You didn’t think to call me? Talk to me?”

“Would you have answered even if I had?”

“Probably,” she pointed out, “even if it were just to shout at you.”

“Fair point.”

“And you don’t remember why you sent me the text?”

“That’s the really tragic thing about it,” he laughed — more of a laugh of embarrassment. “So… Have you been seeing anyone?” he asked. Joel already knew the answer. Their mutual friends often let slip how miserable Lara had been since they stopped going out — which made Joel distance himself from them. He didn’t need the extra feelings of guilt tied in with his feelings of stupidity for sending the text in the first place. He had been doing okay, since leaving Lara, as he rarely saw her; it was easier to put her out of mind, although it still hurt. Since picking her up, though, with the others — slowly he had begun to remember the reasons why he had originally dated her, despite the fact she had been giving him a hard time. He could forgive her for treating him badly that morning. He knew, as soon as he pressed ‘send’ on the text message, it would upset her.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” she asked.

He shook his head. She didn’t need to know about the series of one-night stands he had ‘enjoyed’ since splitting with her. Lara didn’t know the girls he had slept with so there was no danger of her ever finding out and it would only cause her more upset.

“You should have just called me,” she said. “We could have talked…”

“Just didn’t seem fair.”

“I loved you,” she pointed out. “Some nights I hated you and some nights I wished you would have called. I loved you,” she repeated.

“Well… I love you,” he said throwing all caution to the wind.

“What?”

“Seeing you today just makes me realise what a mistake I made… The old feelings I had for you — they’re still there…”

“I don’t believe it…”

“I know, right..Who would have thought it?”

“No, look!” she pointed further down the road towards an oncoming truck.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Okay, I do like you,” Michael said as he suddenly span around to face Charlotte. Charlotte stopped dead.

“That’s good to know, I like you too,” she said. She always knew Michael had the potential to be a little quirky but today she was seeing him in a whole new light.

“No… I mean obviously I like you but I meant to say… I like you. You know, more than a friend.”

Charlotte smiled as she felt her face redden. She wasn’t so much blushing at the sudden announcement of feelings towards her, more so because of the way they were being made clear to her. Michael, the quirky bull in a china shop. Next up she wondered whether he was just going to follow-up his ‘love’ for her by reaching in and trying to fondle a breast.

“Well?” he asked. It was clear from his facial expression that he was hoping she was going to return the sentiment but she just stood there with the very same nervous smile on her face.

In Charlotte’s mind she had often wondered how this conversation would have gone. She pictured Michael to be capable of being extremely charming and romantic — especially considering he was often thought of as being some kind of modern-day Casanova amongst their friends who often told tales of his amazing ability at pulling the members of the opposite sex on crazy nights out. Now she could only picture him, in a club, sneaking rohypnol into the ladies’ drinks and waiting for them to fall unconscious so he could get his leg over. She opened her mouth, as though about to give him his answer, when she was suddenly disturbed by the sound of a horn — coming from across the field, back on the main road.

“Someone must have shown up,” she pointed out, with a barely audible sigh of relief that she hoped Michael didn’t pick up on. “Quick!” she about turned and started to run back towards the road — hopeful that all mention of the previous conversation would disappear, forgotten, by the time they rejoined the rest of the group.

By the time the two of them crossed the field, the ‘help’ had already pulled up; a large pick-up truck with a car already being towed behind it. The driver, and his passenger, jumped out.

“Well, well, well… Isn’t this a turn-up,” said the passenger; the same man whom Joel had refused to help at the petrol station earlier.

“Shit,” Joel muttered under his breath.

“What seems to be the trouble?” asked the other man — the driver of the truck.