Chapter Text
I'm leaving home for the coastline
Some place under the sun
I feel my heart for the first time
'Cause now I'm moving on, yeah I'm moving on
And there's a place that I've dreamed of
Where I can free my mind
I hear the sounds of the season
And lose all sense of time
🌊🌊🌊
Nick was fed up.
He had been in Cornwall for three days and so far, it had rained every single one of them. Summer in the southernmost point of England was meant to be glorious, but this? This was not glorious.
He sighed as he stared out of the glass sliding doors of his Airbnb, wondering if his whole six weeks would be like this. The weather forecast looked good for the following week, but Nick didn’t trust it in the slightest. It had told him the last few days would be cloudy and sunny and yet here he was, staring out at a wall of grey. It wasn’t even as if it was the pretty, romantic, lovely kind of rain that would look good in pictures. It was just grey, bland mush.
Despite it being the middle of the day, it was so dark outside that Nick could see his reflection in the window. He looked a mess, he knew that. His hair was longer than he usually liked to keep it, his auburn fringe flopping down into his eyes when he wore it un-styled like now. More often than not these days, Nick tended to shove one of his caps on to hide the mess. He had let his normal stubble grow into more of a beard over the last few months and he was unsure how he felt about it, but at least it didn’t make him look like his dad. Big win there, as far as Nick was concerned. Mostly, he just thought he looked old. Old and tired, which was ridiculous given he had not long turned 30.
He let out a frustrated breath as he turned back to look at the open plan area of the flat and towards the kitchen. His brand-new Canon 5D Mark II was sitting waiting for him on the island, next to the old film camera that used to belong to his mum. He had allowed himself to wallow in self-pity for the last few days, but enough was enough. There was the tiniest crack of light trying to break through the clouds and Nick was determined to catch it if it did come out. He relented and walked towards the kitchen, hooking the film camera strap carefully around his neck and packing the DSLR into its bag, which he then threw over his shoulder. With his favourite brown Carhartt jacket on over his jeans and black t-shirt, his phone and wallet shoved in his pocket and a very weakly attempted pep in his step, Nick made his way out of the Airbnb.
He had managed to book the same place for the entire time he would be in Cornwall, which was a miracle given how short notice this trip had been. Nick was finally, ten years too late, going on a solo trip to find himself, as his best friend Tara had put it. He wasn’t so sure that’s what it was – a tantrum was probably a better way of putting it. Running away was the kindest way to describe it, if he were in any sort of mood to be kind to himself.
It had been a shit year, quite frankly. Nick had turned 30, been dumped and had to leave his home and his job, all in the space of a few short months. He had moved into Rowan’s flat when they had decided to live together, so of course he had been the one to leave. He moved back in with his mum while he was looking for a new place, except that still hadn’t happened yet over half a year later. Not long after the breakup – or brutal dumping, more accurately – a parent at the school he worked in had made an official complaint about the small pink, blue and purple pin that he wore on his work lanyard. While his Head had laughed off the complaint, she had still looked Nick up and down and very purposely told him that he should leave his personal life at home. By the next day, the rest of the staff were looking at him differently. His closest friend at work, Abby, had come to have a talk with him, telling Nick that she didn’t care who Nick slept with as long as he didn’t a) talk about it, ever or b) pass on his lifestyle ideas on to the kids he taught. Nick had started looking for a new school that very evening.
So there he was, living in his childhood bedroom and working in a place that didn’t want him, waiting for something better to come along. By February, Rowan was posting pictures of his new partner on Instagram for Valentine's Day while Nick sat on the sofa with a ready meal on his lap, his mother by his side and his old friend Nellie at his feet.
And then things took a really shitty turn.
After a week of Nellie barely touching her food, Nick and Sarah had taken her to the vets. She was old and it was expected, but the two weeks they were given with her hurt more than anything else Nick had ever experienced in his life. His best friend since he was fourteen had lived far longer than expected, but that didn’t make the day they said goodbye any easier.
Two days after Nellie left them, Nick had an interview at a potential new school in London and he had spent half of it tearing up at unexpected moments. He had known without a doubt that he wanted the job when the Head had held out a box of tissues and told him that she and her wife had lost their dog the previous year, so she knew how it felt. Nick had told the Story of The Bi Pin at the mention of a wife, and soon they were shaking hands with wide smiles and promising to speak soon. By the time he got back to his mum's that evening, Nick had a job offer waiting for him in his emails. After three terrible interviews and countless applications ignored, Nick thought that maybe, just maybe, his luck was finally starting to turn.
He spent the last few months at his old school praying for time to move faster. He gave the kids everything he had, of course he did, but he had barely spoken to another adult in that place since the pin incident. It made his skin crawl to even be in the same building as them sometimes, but knowing that he was in his last term there made it all a little more bearable.
As the summer holidays approached, Nick felt his mood slip further. It was hard being at home without Nellie; quiet and cold and empty. Sarah was looking at listings on rescue sites every evening, trying to find a new four-legged friend to keep her company when Nick moved back to London in the autumn. Nick hoped she would find one soon enough, for both of their sakes. He expected to feel a bit better knowing he was almost free of a toxic workplace, but the last year had finally caught up with him. He spent every moment he wasn’t at work either on the sofa or in bed, wasting away. He barely saw his friends - they were all in London anyway and it was too hard to commute from Kent to see them when he was already so exhausted from just existing.
“Why don’t you go away for a little while, Nicky?” Mum had suggested in June. “You haven’t been yourself at all lately, baby. It might be good to have a change of scenery for a while.”
And while Nick had felt like doing nothing but becoming one with the sofa, he couldn’t deny that the idea of being somewhere else had lit a tiny spark of excitement inside him.
“You could take your camera? I haven’t seen you with it for years, darling.”
Nick had grumbled that it hadn’t been years, but she wasn’t far off. Rowan was great in so many ways, but humouring Nick’s creative side wasn’t one of them. He hated having his photo taken - and Nick had loved taking his photo - and he would’ve been an asshole to carry on doing something Ro wasn’t comfortable with. He’d put his camera away at the bottom of his wardrobe and all but forgotten about it bar the few times he took it home to Kent with him to take on dog walks. Nellie loved the camera, always ready to pose the second it was pointed at her. She had been one of Nick’s favourite subjects since the day they’d brought her home, but his absolute favourite thing to take pictures of was the beach. Any beach, any time, any lighting, any weather. He was okay at photographing people and animals, he knew he was, but he was truly proud of some of the landscapes he had taken over the years. He had won a couple of competitions through high school and university, half hoping for a minute somewhere in there that he might be good enough to make a career out of it. The last two years of uni and teacher training plus a long-term boyfriend had stamped that out of him though, the sudden exhaustion that came with being a real adult leaving his camera gathering dust.
He did miss it though, and it would be fun to get back into it now that he didn’t have anyone complaining every time he picked up a camera or glanced at something for a second too long, imagining how it would look hung up in a gallery. His friend Elle had asked him only last week if he would help her with an exhibition she was running, so it was perfect timing.
Nick had met Elle in sixth form when they had attended the same evening photography class. They had hit it off and kept in touch and now Elle ran a small gallery in London, showcasing all kinds of art. She was a painter above all else and much better at everything artsy than Nick ever was, but for some reason she had come to him to see if he could take a few pictures for an end of summer exhibition.
“The theme is ‘sunshine’. I have plenty of artists and a couple of sculptors but no photographers,” she had told him on the phone. “If you’re out and you see anything that might work… I’d love to include you. You know I love your photos, Nick.”
He had told her no initially, not wanting to make a promise he was almost sure he wouldn’t be able to keep. But when he told his mum about it, she lit up and told him he had to and how great an opportunity it would be to get back into something he loved.
And so they had spent the rest of that evening looking up the best beaches in the UK and researching specific areas once they had narrowed it down to Cornwall. Sarah had looked up accommodation while Nick looked up new cameras and lenses. He still had a bunch of 30th Birthday Guilt Money from his dad burning a hole in his bank account and it seemed like a good idea to invest in something he used to love so much. It helped that his dad never approved of the hobby, of course, and even Sarah had a little cackle about that part.
So now here he was, crossing the short distance from his home for the next month and a half towards Praa Sands beach. The village was tiny, barely more than a couple of hundred houses sloping down from the main road towards the coast and a few shops and cafés dotted along the way. Nick was grateful he’d driven down; he would’ve been absolutely stuck had it not been for his trusty little Fiat Punto.
As Nick reached the steps down from the car park to the beach, that tiny bit of sun he had seen trying to escape had been well and truly engulfed by grey again. Typical, Nick thought. The beach was still beautiful to look at, but he knew it would look dull and boring through the lens of his camera.
A walk would do him good anyway, though. He had spent enough time cooped up in his Airbnb, as lovely as it was, and the freshness would hopefully help to snap him out of his funk. He wandered down onto the beach and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sea air filled his nostrils. It was different from the beach he used to take Nellie to, of course, but all beaches had that same feeling deep down. The salty breeze, the yapping of happy dogs chasing their balls and the gentle lapping of the water on the shore. The lighting might have been shit, Nick mused, but at least he was here.
Nick turned to walk towards the large rocks at the right end of the beach, chasing the small crack of sun he had seen earlier. He couldn’t seem to stop the smile creeping onto his face – as hard as things had been lately, Nick was glad to be away now. He loved the beach, always had, and even without Nellie it felt good to be back on one. This one in particular was gorgeous, even in the drizzle, with high grassy cliffs and sand dunes bordering each end. Nick made a mental note to climb up when – if – the sun finally came out so he could get a proper view of the beach.
As he finally approached the rocks, he felt the first proper drop of rain. It started slowly, but within a minute it was almost hailing on him, his light brown jacket already looking a few shades darker. Fuck.
He had spotted a bar as he’d walked along the beach a little way back – Sundance, he remembered it was called. There was a large wooden veranda in front of it with outdoor seating, but he was sure there would be some inside space, too. Nick adjusted his cap to try and keep the rain out of his face and then strode towards shelter.
He felt like a wet dog by the time he got inside, which meant he fit right in because the place was half full of them. Nick loved that about Cornwall, that it was so dog friendly. As he looked around to try and find a spot, Nick’s breath caught in his throat.
Because fuck, there was a dog in the corner who looked exactly like Nellie. Her colouring was the same, the markings on her face were the same, her tail shape was the same. She was shorter than Nells but as he got closer, Nick could see the exact same all-knowing look in her eyes.
Christ. And now Nick was going to burst into tears at the sight of a stranger’s dog in the middle of a cafe.
As he approached a nearby table, the dog spotted him and sat up happily, her tail wagging.
“Oh, sorry lovely,” the owner said to him. “She always wants to say hello to everyone. Ignore her if you want.”
“Oh, no – can I…?” he asked, kneeling down in front of the dog when her owner smiled and nodded. “Hello, gorgeous. Look at you,” he cooed, his throat tight.
God, her eyes. It was like looking at Nellie again.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “She just – she looks exactly like mine. We lost her recently. What’s her name?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” the woman said softly. “It’s so hard, isn’t it? This is Poppy.”
“Poppy.” Nick grinned through misty eyes. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
The owner grinned. “Wait until there’s food around.”
Nick chuckled knowingly and looked back at Poppy, giving her a good scratch behind her ears. She panted and nuzzled into his hands, her tongue lolling out of her mouth happily. He couldn’t look away from her; it felt exactly like looking at Nellie. Anyone could have called him sentimental and sappy and sad, but it felt almost like she was talking to him again, telling him something.
“You okay, Nells?” he whispered inexplicably, bowing his head down to meet the top of the dog’s. Poppy whined, a happy noise, and Nick smiled as he breathed in.
He forced himself to stand up after that, not wanting to embarrass himself any more than he already had. It was fucking stupid to get emotional over a random dog in a pub and Nick absolutely, point blank refused to start crying.
“Sorry,” he mumbled to the poor unsuspecting human he had ambushed. “Thanks.”
Nick weaved his way towards the opposite side of the room, hiding Poppy from view so he could carry on with his day without crying in public. He dumped his DSLR bag down onto the bench beside him and removed his film camera from around his neck, resting it carefully on the table as he sat down.
It was a nice place, if a little strange. Nick couldn’t quite tell if it was a pub, a café, or a restaurant, but he felt comfortable there either way. The wood slatted walls were painted in a deep navy blue and the low-hanging lights in their wicker shades made the space feel safe and warm, even with the rain pelting down outside.
The atmosphere just felt nice. There was a waitress laughing with what looked like regular customers at a table nearby, asking about their kids. There were dogs greeting each other with tail wags and the occasional huff of a bark. There were two curly haired men behind the bar, one with thick rimmed glasses twirling a cocktail shaker around and grinning at the customers watching, and one leaning an elbow on the counter and rolling his eyes at the antics on display. Nick focused on the second for a moment. While he looked bored and exasperated, there was a look in his eyes that gave away his fondness. His hair was less tightly coiled than the other man’s but still curled beautifully, a few perfect ringlets falling across his forehead. His navy hoodie almost drowned him and proudly displayed the Sundance logo towards the left of his chest. Nick looked away, feeling hot under the collar and a little bit like a creep for staring for a moment too long for no reason.
Nick checked the menu once more, though he knew from a glance what he was going to order. When he made his way over to the bar, the taller of the curly-haired men greeted him with a wide smile.
“Hello hello, welcome! What can I get you today?”
“Hey, uh. Can I get –”
“Michael!” A female voice called out from the kitchen, making the barman jump.
“Oops, sorry, sir,” the man, Michael, said. “I just need to – Charlie, can you grab this order for me?”
The other man turned and looked at Michael, and then very briefly at Nick, before he sighed and slowly made his way over to them.
“What was that thing we said about smiling, Springtime Sunshine?” Michael laughed before he spun away towards the kitchen.
Nick blinked at the other man, Charlie, who was staring after Michael with an unamused look.
“You don’t – you don’t have to smile,” Nick said stupidly.
What the fuck, Nick?
“I am aware, thank you,” the barman responded with a raised eyebrow. His expression was blank but there was something shining in his eyes – eyes that were dark but bright and drew Nick in without him even knowing why.
Not as grumpy as he wants people to think he is, Nick realised.
“What can I get you, then?” Charlie asked, one hand hovering in front of the till screen.
Nick wasn’t usually self-conscious about ordering food but for some reason he wanted this curly-haired stranger to think he was cool. He was half tempted to order something he would never eat, something sophisticated like the mussels or something, but then his stomach rumbled and reminded him that he was too hungry to try and impress anyone.
“Can I get a portion of chips and the bread and oils, please? And a latte?”
If Charlie judged his choices, he didn’t show it. He tapped away at his screen and gave absolutely nothing away.
“Sitting inside or out?”
Nick shot a glance out of the floor to ceiling windows at the torrential rain, and then looked back at Charlie with a bewildered expression.
“I was kidding,” Charlie clarified, deadpan.
Nick flushed. The whole interaction was making him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, weirdly itchy and on edge. He blamed the weather and his own weird mood for how completely out of sorts he felt.
“We’ll bring it over when it’s ready,” Charlie said and Nick immediately ducked his head and turned back towards his table, wincing as soon as he was out of Charlie’s line of sight.
He settled back at his table, letting his head fall back against the wall as he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to recalibrate. God, he was a mess. Nick knew that he used to be better at existing than this, that he used to be able to smile and joke and be kind to strangers. These days, he only seemed to be able to stumble over his words and miss jokes and embarrass himself.
With a shake to try and pull himself together, Nick pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had half a dozen messages he hadn’t had the energy to respond to, from his mum and a couple of his friends asking how he was settling in. He shot a quick text back to his mum to say he loved her and he was happy to be away, which was only half a lie, and then opened his group chat with Tara and Darcy.
Darcy: nicckkkyyyyyy are you alive all the way down there?
you should know that we came last at the pub quiz last night because you abandoned us and we are Not sporty gays and it is all your fault
Tara: Ignore them. How are you, Nick? We miss you xxx
Nick scrubbed a hand down his face and scratched at his beard as he thought about how to respond.
I feel like shit was typed and then swiftly deleted. Why can’t I function normally anymore? went the same way. It’s raining and I hate it and I want to go home to Nellie but I can’t because she’s gone and it’s not fair was too much like the truth.
Instead, Nick typed something as neutral as possible. He didn’t need his friends to worry about him, anyway.
All good here, the house is nice and the beach is even nicer. Raining but meant to clear up soon. Miss you both, talk soon x
As soon as it was sent, Nick groaned and tipped forward, letting his head fall onto the table with a thunk. He scrunched his eyes up so tightly that he saw stars, half hoping that maybe if he squeezed hard enough then he would be able to transport himself back in time. Back to when he was happy, when he wasn’t lying to his friends, when he felt like it was all worth it. Back to when Rowan still loved him and he returned the feeling, back to when he would go home for a weekend and Nellie would sleep tucked up beside him in his childhood bed, back to when he felt normal.
“Your latte.” A voice interrupted his thoughts.
Nick sat up abruptly, eyes wide as Charlie carefully placed a mug of coffee on a saucer down in front of him.
“Are you – okay?” Charlie questioned, looking like he’d rather be doing anything else than asking a stranger how he was. “I – it would be an awful lot to carry on my conscience if my bad joke was the final straw in a downward spiral that ends up with you in the sea.”
Nick could see the joke this time, at least. He could also detect the genuine concern under Charlie’s spiky delivery.
“Sorry. I’m okay. No diving for me today.”
“Just today?”
With a snort, Nick shook his head. “No plans for any swims. Promise.”
“Good.” Charlie nodded, glancing down at Nick’s table again. He let out a breath when he caught sight of Nick’s film camera still sitting there. “Ah. I see.”
And then Nick was lost again. To be fair, he wasn’t entirely sure that he would follow Charlie’s line of thought here even at his best.
Charlie shook his head. “Never mind. I’m finishing up but Michael will bring your food out when it’s ready.”
“Thanks,” Nick muttered, ducking his head again.
He heard Charlie start to walk away before stopping, then a pause.
“Don’t make me read an article about you washing up in Penzance tomorrow, yeah?”
Nick huffed a humourless laugh as he looked back up at Charlie. “You don’t need to worry.”
Charlie watched him for a moment and then hummed and nodded, seemingly satisfied. He turned and walked away without so much as a second glance, ending one of the weirdest interactions of Nick’s life like it was completely normal.
He didn’t sleep well that night. The empty memory card in his camera and those strange, captivating eyes haunted any dreams he had while he did manage to doze, but they didn’t last long. Nick refused to pay them any mind when he woke up; he was here to get beach landscapes to help out a friend and to clear his head, not to get caught up in anyone new.
Nick knew what he was like; he fell fast and he fell hard. The last thing he needed right now was to fall over his fumbling feet and into a new obsession. Rowan had said it in no uncertain terms at the end, that Nick was too much, and he was right. Nick needed to learn how to function on his own again, and he was here to do that. Alone.
And yet, Nick went back to Sundance the next day, and the next. It was still grey and miserable outside so any good photography was out and the food had been so good there. Nick hadn’t been bothered to try and find a big supermarket to stock up on what he couldn’t get at the local corner shop down the road and he needed to at least try and eat a vegetable this week. So, Sundance it was.
His repeat appearance, of course, had nothing to do with the way Charlie’s lips had curled upwards the second day Nick had shown up, or how he’d nodded and said, “you again.” Nick didn’t care if Charlie recognised him after one meeting, because Nick absolutely was not going there.
The third day in a row that he went in, Charlie came over to his table before he even made it to the bar to order. He had a couple of empty plates resting on his left arm and two mugs held in his right hand.
“This is becoming a habit.” Charlie pointed out, giving Nick a look that he couldn’t quite decipher.
“Sorry. I – I like the food.”
“I can tell. Tori keeps saying she’s never seen such clean plates as she does when you’re in.”
“Oh. Right, yeah. I guess so.”
“I’m joking again,” Charlie said flatly.
“Of course.” Nick cringed. Why couldn’t he fucking converse anymore?
Charlie rolled his eyes, but he looked too amused for Nick’s liking. “Wait there, I’ll bring your latte across.”
Nick fidgeted with his phone while he waited, surprised that Charlie had just assumed he would want a coffee. It didn’t annoy him, exactly, but he did feel a bit irked about being so damn predictable, even to someone who had known him for approximately ten minutes in total.
When Charlie returned, he surprised Nick by sitting in the seat opposite him as he placed Nick’s cup in front of him. Nick looked up at him questioningly.
“So. Are you on holiday or something? You’re not local.”
“No, not local.” Nick agreed.
“This is a strange little place to stay on your own for a holiday. Unless you’re here with someone?”
He couldn’t help but feel like Charlie was fishing for something. Maybe Nick did still have some social awareness left in him after all.
“I’m here alone. I wanted somewhere quiet, not one of the big towns.”
“I see. Photographer?”
“Oh, no. Or very, very amateur at best. I’m a teacher, actually.”
Charlie’s eyebrows lifted at that information. Was he impressed? Intrigued?
“Well, Mr Teacher-Not-Quite-Photographer,” he said as he stood up again. “Welcome to Cornwall. If you need any advice on where to go, that curly-haired giant with the too-big smile behind the bar loves to help any lost visitor who comes our way.”
Nick made the conscious decision not to be disappointed that Charlie was offering Michael’s services and not his own. Instead, he mentally psyched himself up to say, “it’s Nick.”
“What?”
“My name. Nick. A bit catchier than what… what you called me.” Nick trailed off, feeling less confident by the second that Charlie would have any interest in knowing his name.
“Well, Nick. Enjoy your coffee. Come up to the bar as usual if you want some food, yeah?”
“Sure.”
“That’s Michael, if you need his help,” Charlie continued, not seeming to be ready to leave Nick’s table yet. “And I’m Charlie.”
And then he couldn’t leave quick enough. Just as well, Nick thought, lest he embarrass himself by saying something stupid and stalkerish like I know.
On day four, the rain held off all morning. Nick had been eyeing the outdoor tables at Sundance ever since he had first been and he was pleased that he might actually get a chance to use one today. Unfortunately, it seemed the whole of Praa Sands had had the same idea. Nick stood on the decking and watched for anyone who looked like they were about to leave and then caught a glimpse of those now familiar dark curls.
Nick hovered, not wanting to intrude. Charlie’s table was the only one with any space, but he was engrossed in a book and Nick would hate himself if he disturbed the few moments of peace that Charlie got in his day.
He must have noticed Nick lurking though because he looked up with a questioning expression.
“Did someone pause you?” He asked, closing his book after slotting a delicate thumb between the pages to keep his place.
“Sorry,” Nick murmured, starting to turn away until Charlie spoke again.
“You know, Nick, you say sorry an awful lot for someone who hasn’t actually done anything wrong.”
“Oh, sor- I – yeah. I’m working on it.”
“Are you?”
That surprised a laugh out of Nick and he scratched at the short hairs at the back of his head, feeling caught out. “No.”
“Sit down, Nick. I don’t bite.”
His tone suggested he might bite, actually, but Nick sat down anyway. Since it wasn’t raining, he hadn’t brought his camera bag today. Instead, he had left his film camera behind and his DSLR hung around his neck in its place. He removed it carefully and set it on the tabletop.
“That’s an awfully expensive looking camera for someone who claims they aren’t very good.” Charlie pointed out, looking vaguely unimpressed by the whole thing.
Nick felt a bit stupid if he was honest. Who did he think he was spending money on fancy shit like this and indulgent summer holidays when he could’ve used it to help himself get through life the following year?
His mum’s voice rang in his ear though, grounding him a little. You never spend any money on you, Nicky. Do something you love for once, sweetheart.
“I enjoy it?” he said to Charlie, the words coming out like a question. “I got a bit of money for my birthday and wanted to get something for me. It sounds stupid now. Spoiled. I wanted to see if it helped.”
“Helped?”
“Never mind.”
“Hmm,” Charlie narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether to push the point or not. In the end, he shrugged and put his book down properly. “Okay, well, I need evidence. Show me some shots.”
“You don’t want to see my stupid pictures,” Nick chuckled, shaking his head.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
Nick watched him for a moment. Charlie looked good today in a long-sleeved Sundance t-shirt and his curls ruffling in the sea breeze. Nick hadn’t been able to make out the colour of his eyes inside the bar but out here they were stunning – bright blue with darker flecks through them. He felt the overwhelming need to see them in the sunshine, to see how dazzling they would be in good light. His fingers itched for his camera.
“Please?” Charlie pouted. He ducked his head and looked up at Nick through his eyelashes.
Jesus. Nick’s stomach flipped, and he tried very hard to ignore it.
“Fine,” he sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He had an album of photos he had taken years ago, of Nellie and his mum and his friends and, most of all, of beaches he had visited.
Charlie took the offered phone and started to scroll. Nick felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin at the blank expression on his face as he looked through something Nick had barely ever shown anyone. What was the point, anyway? It’s not as if they were worth showing.
After what felt like a decade, Charlie handed his phone back and nodded.
“They’re really good. You were being modest before.”
“Not really.”
“The dog in all those pictures… she looks like Poppy, but they weren’t taken here, right?”
Nick frowned, trying to remember where he had heard that name recently. “Oh!” he realised. “No, that’s – this is Nellie. She’s my dog. Was… um. Was my dog.”
A look of realisation settled onto Charlie’s face. “Okay, I get it now. They really are very similar.”
Nick looked down at the picture on his phone and smiled sadly. “Yeah. It sounds weird, but they had the same look in their eyes. I know I sound crazy.”
“No, you don’t sound crazy. Trust me, I know crazy,” Charlie said in a tone that told Nick that there was a story there. Nick, against his better judgement, wanted to know what it was. He wanted to know everything about Charlie.
“Anyway, see? Told you I’m not very good.”
Charlie squinted at him. “You’re hard to read, you know. I can’t tell if you’re fishing for compliments or if you’re actually that self-critical.”
Nick shrugged. He definitely wasn’t fishing, but admitting to a practical stranger that he really had no faith in his abilities seemed a bit much.
“So, Nick. Are you here for the week?”
“The summer, actually.”
“Oh,” Charlie nodded. “For work or fun or…?”
“For a break,” Nick answered as honestly as he could. “I was in need of a change of scenery and Google told me the beaches were nice here.”
“Mm, they are if the sun comes out. It’s unusually dreary for July this year.”
“Yeah. I was hoping to get some practice in. I promised my friend I would get some pictures for an exhibition she’s running in September, but it seems… highly unlikely at the moment.”
“Oh, so you’re not very good but you’re going to be in an exhibition?” Charlie said with a teasing smile. His foot brushed Nick’s shin as he crossed his legs under the table and Nick, once again, tried his best to ignore how his body reacted to Charlie.
“She just needed some background stuff to fill the space, it’s nothing special,” Nick countered. “But the theme is sunlight, so it’s not likely I’ll be able to help anyway.”
Charlie looked at him thoughtfully. “You need to go to St Ives.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, Nick. Didn’t you do any research? It’s where all the artists go to paint or draw or photograph. The light there is… it’s something else. It’s special. I’m surprised Google didn’t tell you.”
“Guess Google can’t help with everything, huh?” Nick half-joked. “Is it close, St Ives?”
Charlie considered him for a moment and then rested his elbows on the table in front of him decisively. “Fine, look. There’s no point in you moping around this fucking bar for the next six weeks or getting lost in the countryside. I’ll show you around. I know some spots that might be good for photos even in shit weather.”
“Oh, no, Charlie… you don’t have to do that. If I’m annoying you being here all the time, I can take myself around. Google can still do that much. I couldn’t ask you to –”
“Nick. You’re not asking, I’m offering. I’m bored as shit around here on my days off anyway. Let me be your tour guide. If you want me?”
There was something there, Nick knew that much. The way Charlie’s eyebrow was arched, the curve of his lips, the way he said want me. Nick could feel it crackling between them, building up over every conversation they'd had so far. And fuck, yeah, okay. Maybe it was too soon for anything real, anything long-term, but Nick could absolutely go for a rebound fling right about now.
And so Nick stared right back at Charlie with the beginnings of a smirk and replied, as confidently as he could, “yeah. I want you.”