Page 23 of Syrup Syndrome
“How long have you lived in this town?” she asks as I lead her toward the garden and she turns her head to the side, her eyes cautious but still somehow curious.
“Roughly a decade or so.”
“Where did you live before that?”
“Here and there.”
Her mouth pinches at my evasiveness. “When I guess your name, will you truly let me go?”
“If you want to leave then yes,” I say in a strained voice and she shakes her head.
“But isn’t that a bigger risk for you? Letting me know your name, then letting me go?”
“You won’t run to the cops, doll face,” I tell her gently and her face lights up in surprise.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” If she still is the girl that I used to know then she will never want to see me behind bars. We used to be so tight, intertwined, our hands reaching and our fingertips touching in the dark whenever she was scared. If she’s still deep down the girl that I know, she won’t be able to hurt me anymore than I can hurt her.
As we walk, I’m starting to relax but I shouldn’t have because she senses it and does a jerking movement and I tense, yanking her back. My grip around her turns firm and she looks up at me with wide eyes.
“I was just trying to go and have a look at the roses,” she breathes and my eyes narrow. But I don’t scold her and we walk over to the roses when my phone vibrates in my pocket. She notices, her head twitching to the side and I’m tempted not to answer. I don’t want my time with her to be disturbed but then I look at the name on the display.
Amos. Now I do have to answer.
“Yeah, what the fuck is it?” I snap and he lets out a longwinded sound and there’s some traffic noise in the background.
“Hello to you to, asshole,” he replies and I grind my jaw. He lets out his characteristic joker laugh, before asking, “What’s up?”
Daphne glances at me, her face cautious and she opens her mouth but nothing comes out and I turn my head to the side, trying to block her from listening in on the conversation.
“Look, I don’t have much time. Whatever you got to say spit it out.”
“Just checking if we’re still meeting up for the Holidays?”
“You know we are,” I grind and he chuckles at my annoyance. “Are you still in Oxford?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll make it. Wouldn’t want to miss out on your surprise. I have a feeling I’m going to love it.”
I glance at Daphne’s pale face and my jaw clenches.
“You probably will.”
“Is everything good? You sound different.”
If only he knew. If only he knew that she was right next to me. I clench my hand around the phone when thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have said something. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that I have a surprise in store. After all, Daphne might not want to stay. Maybe she’ll want to go back to her regular life. And then everything will be ruined.
“I got to hang up,” I tell him, “I’ll talk to you later.” We hang up and Daphne looks at me, her eyes brimming with curiosity.
“Who was that?”
“An old friend of mine.” My eyes go to her unassuming face.
And yours.
Eight
Daphne