Chapter Sixteen
Adam
Iwatched her drop the boys off at school, then I followed her on my bike as she seemed to drive aimlessly through the streets of Sandland. Eventually, she pulled up in the carpark of the local park and got out. I parked my bike not too far away from where she was but kept my distance.
There was a little boating pond in the middle of the park with benches around the outside, and she sat down on her own, staring out at the water and the ducks that were gliding across the surface, pecking at old crusts of bread that’d been thrown out to them. I took my place under a tree that was set back from the main play area, and I saw her, sitting in what was becoming a crowded park for this time in the morning, with dog walkers, joggers and older couples taking a stroll, but she was all alone. She looked lonely, and it made my heart hurt.
I don’t know how long I stood there, watching her, but my legs grew tired, so I leant up against the trunk. I was trying to figure out why she was sitting there, lost in her thoughts.
Was she thinking about me?
A few times, she took her mobile out of her handbag that was rested at the side of her on the bench, but every time she tapped the screen, she put it away again moments later. There were no messages. Was she waiting for me to text her?
I noticed an ice-cream van a little way down the path, and I turned to a young kid who was with his mate, kicking a ball around. They should’ve been in school, but who was I to judge? I rarely spent any of my own childhood in education. No one wanted me there and that suited me just fine.
“Here. Mate,” I called out to one of the lads, and they both stopped what they were doing, scowled at me, then their eyes went wide when they saw who I was. They must’ve had parents who’d warned them about the soldiers. Either that, or they were originally from Brinton. I didn’t recognise them though, so I assumed my reputation had proceeded me.
“See that van over there?” I nodded down the path. “I want you to go and buy an ice cream. A decent one, all the works, yeah. Then I want you to take it over to that girl sitting on the bench. Do you understand?” I took my wallet out of my back pocket and handed them some cash. “If you do that, I’ll let you keep the change. Fuck me over and I’ll cut your balls off, take them home, and feed them to my dog.”
“We know who you are,” the taller of the two said, taking the note off me like he thought I was a rabid animal who might bite. “We won’t fuck about.”
“Good. Oh, and when she asks, you can’t say it’s from me.”
“Who shall we say it’s from?” the little one asked, frowning.
“I couldn’t give a shit. Say it’s from a secret admirer, I don’t fucking care, just don’t say it’s me.”
They both nodded and then traipsed across the grass like their legs were made of lead as they went right up to the ice cream van.
I watched them buy an ice cream, all covered in sprinkles and shit, and then pocket the change, smiling to themselves. They glanced across to where I stood, hidden in plain sight, and their grins faded. When they made it over to Olivia, she turned, and as they thrust the ice cream towards her, she reeled back, obviously questioning what the hell was going on. There was some discussion, and they shook their heads. I bet she’d told them to eat it themselves, but eventually, she took it and they left her, scurrying out of the park as fast as they could without looking back.
Olivia held the ice cream like it was a bloody grenade and scanned the park, looking all around her. Then, an old lady sat on the far end of the bench, and she held it out, offering her the ice cream instead. The old lady shook her head and Olivia stood up, her shoulders sagging as if she was sighing, and the ice cream ended up in the bin right next to her.
Fuck it.
I couldn’t even send her a shitting ice cream without her losing it. I wasn’t having that. So I pulled my phone out and fired off a message.
Me: You won’t even eat a bloody ice cream?
She fished her phone out of her bag and read my text, and what happened next totally blew my mind. She stood in the middle of the park and shouted at the top of her voice, “I don’t want your fucking ice cream! It sucks! And so do you! Leave me alone!”
The old lady stood up and scurried away in disgust. The ice cream vendor shouted something back about his ice cream being the best Sandland had to offer.
And me?
I could not stop laughing.
This beautiful, stubborn, infuriating girl was crazy. My kind of crazy. And I was so here for it. I fucking loved it.
She stomped out of the park and over to her car, getting in and slamming the door before punching her steering wheel. And I couldn’t resist sending one last message.
Me: I love it when you’re angry.