Getaway

Chapter 15

For some reason my Dad had decided to invite Fletcher to tea with us that night. He seemed to think he was returning the favour of me eating with his family and so I wore my only nice dress for the third night and I tugged nervously at the hem for what seemed like the thousandth time.

I already knew that there was going to be a major difference between tea with Fletcher’s family and tea with mine.

For one we didn’t eat at the fanciest restaurant on site, we stuck with the buffet, mainly because Kyle was still at the stage where he just liked to eat chips and chicken nuggets rather than try stuff like paella.

It wasn’t a bad thing, it just meant that he wasn’t great at eating off a menu or actually remembering to use cutlery.

And so I nervously fidgeted on my seat, waiting for Fletcher to arrive. He said that he would meet me there, assuring me that he could find his own way. But I still twiddled my fingers hoping he would arrive soon so the tension could disappear. Fletcher always seemed to know how to do that.

He arrived just as I was about to give up waiting for him and go get myself some food.

“Sorry I’m late,” he called from half-way across the restaurant attracting everyone’s – unwelcome – attention.

“It’s fine,” I said awkwardly as he sat down on the chair next to me.

“It’s not,” he told me, “I shouldn’t have been late. Again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I repeated, “but I’m starving so do you want to go get some food.”

Fletcher looked around at the empty table before turning to me with an extremely confused expression on his face.

“Do we not need to wait for your Dad and Kyle? Where even are they?”

“They’ve already gone to get their food,” I admitted sheepishly, “they were kind of bored of waiting.”

“Oh,” Fletcher replied, “that’s cool. If you’re hungry I’ll wait for you to get back.”

“We can go at the same time.”

“If you’re that hungry then just go.”

“Fletcher.”

“Don’t argue with me on this Nell,” he warned, “just go get your damn food.”

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Dad asked as he sat down with us, “because I’m back, which means you can both ‘go get your damn food’.”

Fletcher’s neck involuntarily flushed a light pink colour and he tried to hide his bashful smile.

“Are you ready?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

The two of us made our way over to the buffet section and I piled my plate up high the way I had done every night previously.

“Hungry?” Fletcher asked teasingly.