Staying Grounded [BXB]

Unfinished Business

SEBASTIAN:

I'm halfway across the farmyard, nearing the back door, when I hear it—the rough, grumbling sound of an engine, cranky from disuse. Dobby immediately flies to my side, tail between his legs, almost tripping me in his efforts to hide from the assault. Even knowing exactly what the noise is, I can't make sense of it. Only the rear corner of the shed is visible from where we are, a darker than pitch shadow beyond the beam of my torch.

"Come on, boy," I say, my tone soothing, and hold a steady pace as I continue onward to the house. "Let's get you in and put to bed." Dobby doesn't seem too convinced by my assumed calm, clinging close, and I don't blame him — my heart's refusing to play along.

When we reach the backdoor, the sound cuts out, only to start up again a minute later. I've barely opened the door a crack before Dobby's shooting past me into the kitchen. I step in after him, switch on the light, and fill his water bowl at the sink. We've been out walking for at least an hour, and he's exhausted. Swift to settle once safe inside, I don't have long to wait until he's curling himself up in his basket. "I'll be back soon, bud, okay?" I tell him, then I head back out into the unquiet night.

A dim light spills from the shed's open doors, quickening my approach. I switch my torch off as I cross the threshold. And it comes as no great surprise when Ashleigh is the first to hail my entrance, her head poking out my truck's passenger window. Because, of course, she has her finger in this.

"Behold, ye of little faith," she calls, practically shouting to be heard over the shuddering roar. 

"It's alive!"

Stopping beside the workbench, I move no further. My attention has already been lost to Ashleigh, snatched away by the wholly candid and undiluted look of joy animating the face beside her.

How I left things with Craig in the snug earlier has plagued my mind for most of my walk. For all that I meant everything I'd said to him, I'm fully aware I took it too far. On this occasion, he'd done nothing to merit my anger. He most certainly didn't deserve my parting taunt. I played his vulnerability against him, thinking only to shut him down, and that's deplorable. Yet even still, here he is, being unreasonably contrary.

Craig shuts the engine off and climbs out the driver side. Grease streaks his dimpled cheek, the result of a careless hand swipe, stark in contrast to the gleam of his pearly whites. I'm not sure I was even aware he had dimples before now. "I was going to leave," he says, loud enough to suggest his ears have been traumatised. "And then," he pats the hood, "I didn't."

"Sure those parts you've snuck in there weren't meant for a tank?"

A laugh blurts from him, a sound that flips my stomach over itself. "Lucky thing your neighbours aren't nearby, huh?"

If I had my wits about me, I'd realise the good sense in turning on my heel right now and walking straight back out. But I haven't, and I don't. I'm incapable of even shifting my eyes from him, and an impetuous twitch at the corner of my mouth is becoming ever harder to resist.

The prick is a full-on headfuck. An extraordinary spectacle, basking in his triumph without a trace of his usual reserve. There's no fooling myself into being unaffected by it. I'm feeling his pride like a glorious jackknife break to my otherwise intolerable day. But I'd be ever more the fool to let it dispel all that came before. There's no way he can genuinely be this okay with my objectionable conduct tonight. "You're killing me here, Craig."

"Not intentionally," he shrugs, looking completely unfazed.

"It actually wouldn't at all kill you, Bas," Ashleigh cuts in, creaking the passenger door open, "to simply thank him." She straightens up out of the truck and eyeballs me. "Give it a go, I dare you."Craig slides her an amused glance over the hood. "I don't want his thanks."