At First Sight by Hannah Sunderland (best inspirational books txt) 📗

The impatient part of me begged my mouth to ask the question that my brain was screaming. What was it that made you feel that way? And can I help? But I knew not to push him.

‘No worries,’ I replied with a reassuring smile. ‘Thank you for telling me … what you told me. I know that couldn’t have been easy.’

‘It was time for me t’tell yer. I should’ve known yer’d be all right with it anyway, with what you do.’

‘If you need to talk or even if you just need someone to distract you, then you know where I am.’

He looked down at his foot and kicked at the ground with the toe of his scuffed black boot.

‘You’re a good friend, Nell.’

The word ‘friend’ smarted a little after everything. I’m pretty sure friends didn’t fondle each other’s ankles during film time, but now was not the time to raise this point.

‘You can totally stay here, if you want. We have a spare room.’ And you’re always welcome in my bed, I added, but only in thought. Also, I’m scared that if I say goodbye, it might be the last time I ever say it.

‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’ He looked back up and I could tell from the slight strain between his brows that he was embarrassed when he had no need to be. ‘Say, what are you doin’ right now?’ he asked, suddenly imbued with some sort of enthusiasm.

‘Probably gonna head to a rave, take some drugs, an orgy or two. You know, just a regular Friday night.’

‘Damn it.’ He sighed overdramatically, playing into the joke. ‘So, you wouldn’t be at all interested in coming for a quick walk with me?’

‘Now?’

‘Yeah. There’s somethin’ I wanna show yer.’

Chapter Nine

The halo of light pollution floated above the town responsible for it like a radioactive cloud, the street lamps and warmly lit windows nothing but tiny dots of light from the top of the clock tower. Charlie had let us in through a back door that he had a key to because he’d once worked on a show here and had ‘forgotten’ to give it back. He’d reassured me that he was only bringing me here to show me something, but still, climbing to the top of the tower from which he’d planned to never come down alive, made me feel on edge.

We’d climbed the seemingly endless metal steps to the top, the sounds and light of the clock mechanics whirring above us and creating the perfect atmosphere for a horror film murder scene. I had thought twice about walking into a strange, dark building with him, so I’d sent Ned a text to tell him where I was and I felt comforted that, if in the unlikely event that Charlie turned out to be a serial killer, I had a purple belt in taekwondo to lean back on. Mum had bought me lessons for my birthday that year I’d had my bag snatched on the way home from work, but I thankfully hadn’t had to utilise my skills yet.

When we’d arrived at the top of the tower, Charlie had walked out on to the bird-mess-spattered, softly lit paving stones, surrounded by a half wall, and crouched down in a corner that the diffused light from the clockface didn’t reach. I watched him closely and he stood a moment or two later with a bottle of whisky in his hand. I recognised it as the fancy bottle I’d kicked under the table when I’d first met him.

‘No one else comes up here then, huh?’ I asked, hugging my arms around myself.

‘Only the odd maintenance person, but other than that, it’s just me,’ he said, walking towards the edge and sitting on the low half wall. Seeing him that close to the edge made my stomach flip but he just pulled the cork from the bottle and held it out to me. ‘Come and join me.’

I took a steadying breath and went to join him at the edge. My fear of flying was simply a by-product of my acrophobia and as I looked down at the distant pavement below, I felt my head begin to swim and my knees go all hot, as if they might collapse underneath me.

‘Erm, I’m good over here, thanks.’

‘Yer scared of heights?’ he asked.

‘Just a smidge.’

‘Come on. I won’t let yer fall,’ he replied.

‘Na, I’m good.’

He chuckled and held the bottle out to me where I stood. I’d never swigged whisky from a bottle before. Everyone who did it on TV always had a certain roguish ease that made them look cool doing it. I, however, swigged too much resulting in rivulets of whisky running down my cheek and neck before disappearing under the collar of my shirt.

‘Smoothly done.’ Charlie chuckled again and took the bottle. He lifted it to his lips and swigged cleanly. ‘So, what do you think? Pretty cool, huh?’ He nodded in the direction of the clockface. It was strange seeing it this close. The sheer hugeness of it, coupled with the whirring from the gears and cogs working inside, made it feel ominous, almost like you were watching your life tick away before your eyes.

‘I come up here when I need everything to be a little quieter, to get away from all the noise down there,’ he said, looking back over his shoulder at the town below us.

‘It’s nice. Would be nicer if it was lower down though.’

He stood and walked over to me and I felt my breaths coming easier with each step he took away from the edge.

I felt a sudden, gentle warmth in my hand and a moment later, his fingers laced through mine. I turned to look at him, the rush of hormones doing nothing to stop the world from spinning beneath me.

‘I won’t let you fall,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘I’ve got you.’

My heart fizzed in my chest as his eyes steadied mine and, all of a sudden,