Chapter One

Chapter One

Alfie

S weat dripped down my back and my breaths came in short, sharp bursts that cut at my lungs like the stitch that stung my side.

How had this happened?

My dad was going to lose it when he realised how unfit I'd allowed myself to get over the summer holidays. True, I'd still been going to the gym regularly and I'd played some footie with the lads in the park, but when my parents had gone to the Maldives for a fortnight, I'd absolutely taken advantage of the lack of supervision and spent more time lying on the couch watching reruns of old comedy programmes while stuffing my face with junk food that wasn't allowed in the house when my dad was around. I was going to pay for it now, though. A 10K run had me practically at death's door, which was a huge giveaway that I'd not stuck to his workout schedule while he'd been gone.

So now, it was a toss up. Did I run straight home and let him see how out of condition I'd managed to get in just two weeks? Or did I rest behind a tree for a minute or two to get my breath back, and add precious time onto his stopwatch? Neither was going to end brilliantly for me, and I'd almost certainly wind up on extra workouts until starting at college next week.

In the end, I opted for grief over my fitness levels rather than my times. I wasn't sure why, but it felt like maybe it was the lesser of two evils.

He was standing there in the doorway, his blocky frame filling the space easily, his face pinched into a disapproving expression. He didn't say anything as I squeezed past him into the hallway, gasping and panting for every breath, hands on my knees while what I actually wanted to do was fall right to the marble floor and wallow in the coolness of the tiles. He glanced at the stopwatch and his face instantly pinched impossibly tighter.

"What happened?" he barked, his meaning clear. Why was I so slow? And why was I so out of breath.

"Not sure. Maybe I didn't warm up properly." It was an outright lie. I always warmed up the same way and it had never been a problem before.

He sniffed in response, making a note of my time in the blood red notebook he meticulously kept.

I hated that notebook.

Its contents dictated the mood of the entire house each and every day, and today was not going to be a good one.

"You didn't fill your times in while I was away," he noted with a sharply raised eyebrow.

"Oh, right… yeah. I must've forgotten. Sorry."

"Hmm, course you did," he muttered, his expression turning slightly malevolent as my mum came floating down the stairs at just the wrong moment. "You wanna be careful. Keep skipping workouts and you'll get flabby like your mother."

She winced as he pulled her into his side in a way that was meant to look playful but her face was anything but happy when he pinched her stomach and wiggled it around.

I laughed, but the sound was hollow. My mum wasn't exactly flabby, but Dad always made out like she was enormous.

"Yeah," I agreed through a laugh. "I'll get down the gym later and work it off."

After a lengthy shower, I collapsed on my bed, shattered, and scrolled through all the notifications on my phone. Most were from girls I'd hooked up with at some point who hadn't got the message that I wasn't into return visits. I left them on read, hoping that would give them the hint that I didn't do repeat performances.Then, I moved onto the Sandy Crew group chat on Whatsapp. It looked like everybody else was having the most amazing summer, letting loose after GCSE's and going on brilliant holidays. Noah was surfing in Cornwall, Tom had visited more castles than I'd had hot dinners, Evie was living it large visiting family in Jamaica, and one of my other mates, Reuben, was in Portugal working his way through all the local girls.

Meanwhile, I had a hot date with a rowing machine.

Lucky me.

The best thing about working out during the summer holidays was that, for the most part, there was hardly anybody else around so you didn't have to wait for any of the machines. That evening, it was predictably quiet, with only one other guy who clearly thought he was an influencer, videoing himself on all the machines, and Summer Geary who was looking mighty fine on the cross trainer. I positioned myself behind her on the treadmill, queued up a playlist, and got to work.

I tried to focus. I really did. But Summer was wearing the tightest leggings I'd ever seen, and they cupped her backside just so. It was incredibly distracting. So distracting that I lost my footing and somehow managed to stumble off the treadmill, knocking my bottle of water flying as I went.

Great!

Startled, Summer twisted on the machine to look down at me where I was sitting on the floor like an idiot. Her lips quirked into a small smile that made me want to push her against the wall and do unmentionable things to her right there in front of the security cameras.

"Are you alright?" she asked through an obviously stifled laugh.

"Sure." I grinned. "Just trying to get your attention, sugar."

Her smile wavered but her eyes widened with what I was certain was interest. "Well, you have it."

"So I do." My grin grew wider. "Looks like it worked."

"I guess it did." She grabbed her towel from where it was hooked over the side of the cross trainer and swiped at the sweat that had broken out over her forehead. "Good summer?"

"God, I hope not!" I winked at her and my grin widened.

She looked confused for a long moment, and I began to worry I'd gone too far too quickly. But all the rumours on the grapevine seemed to suggest that Summer was up for pretty much anything with guys. I wanted her bad, not good.

"You know what I meant," she threw back at me, not biting at the bait I'd put out there for her.

I shrugged, peeling myself off the floor and swaggering over to her. I glanced at the display on her machine and gave her a look of surprised approval. Most of the girls from school went to the gym just to post selfies on social media or to get the attention of the lads. It seemed like Summer actually took her workout seriously. I had to respect that.

"My summer was fine," I offered when she didn't say anything else. "Most of the cool people were away so no decent parties in a bit, but most are back now so the good times can roll again. How was yours?"

Her smile dropped momentarily and a dark shadow passed behind her eyes, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, it was okay."

Apparently, that was all I was going to get. Perhaps the lack of decent parties hadn't been the worst thing about her summer.

"You go hard," I said, rapidly changing the subject and gesturing to the dial on the cross trainer. "Impressive."

Her smile returned, albeit dimmed slightly, and she reached for her towel, using it to swat at the sweat glistening on her forehead. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen somebody making workout sweat look hot before, but here she was, smashing it.

"Uh, thanks. It's an online programme I'm following."

"Well, hopefully I'll catch you here again sometime," I said, adopting my most charming tone and most seductive smile. "See you later, Summer."

"Yeah, later." She blinked in confusion at how abruptly I cut the conversation short.

It was an old technique of Dad's. Always leave them wanting more.

Once I was home and showered, I hit up the group chat I was still in with the lads from high school.

Alfie: Need to throw a party, fellas. Who's game?

The message was followed by a plethora of yeses. It didn't take much to get the lads up for a party. That was the best thing about them. Then my phone pinged with a message outside of the chat from Tom.

Tom: Why the sudden need to party?

Alfie: Bro, two words. Summer. Geary.

Tom: What about her?

Alfie: I am so in there. Just need the right setting and her clothes will literally fall off, I'm telling you.