Finding Home Read Online Free Page B

the chipped sign on it and waited. My nails scratched at the little raised piece of plastic on the table’s edge.
    It was starting to get dark, and long shadows were creeping across the street. I stared at the words painted on the window. The signage was badly weathered and was missing the letters ‘T’ and ‘W’. I was trying to mentally rearrange the letters in the word ‘-AKEA-AY’ and give them some sort of meaning, when Nick came into view. He stopped right in front of the window and smiled at me, a shy sort of half-grin.
    I lifted the corners of my lips, and he nodded. It was a really strange moment — me staring through the window, at him staring in at me. I felt like I was in a fishbowl.
    ‘Number 89,’ the woman from behind the counter called out. I don’t know why she bothered with a number. I was the only one in there. I stood up, scraping my chair back and grabbing the paper-wrapped bundle, and walked into the street.
    ‘Hey,’ Nick said. He’d changed out of his school uniform and was now wearing jeans and a black tank top, even though the weather was winter-cold. It completely exposed the intricate black design inked down his arm. I couldn’t look away. The pattern was so detailed and a tiny, little bit sexy.
    ‘Hi,’ I replied.
    His blue eyes flashed toward mine, and then down to his tattoo. A mischievous smile lit up his face. ‘You can touch it, if you want,’ he offered, raising his arm and closing the gap between us.
    ‘No, no, that’s totally fine,’ I said, blushing.
    ‘What are you up to?’ He asked. This time it was my turn to tease. I started to giggle. ‘What? What’s so funny?’
    ‘You! You teased me for checking out your tattoo,’ I said, in-between breaths, ‘but then you asked me what I was doing. I just walked out of a takeaway shop, and I’m clearly holding hot food of some kind. You don’t think that maybe I’m about to have a snack?’
    ‘Maybe I was just fishing for an invite to help you eat it.’ Nick grinned. There was something about him I liked. Eating another bag of hot chips by myself was probably not good for my health anyway, so why not?
    ‘Sounds good,’ I replied. I smiled at him and started walking towards the beach, a short block away. We covered the distance in silence, strolling along. His hands were in his pockets, the wind whipping through his black hair and leaving it slightly on end.
    I self-consciously tucked a wisp of hair behind one ear, wondering if I looked as messy as I felt.
    When we reached the sand, I kicked off my shoes and socks, and sank my toes into the cold, sandy granules beneath me.
    ‘Are you crazy?’ Nick asked and shook his head. ‘It’s freezing!’
    The beach, the sand and my exposed toes reminded me of being young, of a time when Dad wasn’t in a band and when Mum had been working in marketing. In those carefree days we’d sometimes fly up to visit Aunt Lou in the summer holidays. I used to love laughing and playing on this very stretch of beach, as we made castles, buried our feet and attempted to body surf.
    ‘I’m a city girl,’ I said, shrugging. ‘I wanted to remember what sand feels like.’
    ‘You’re insane.’ Nick stopped behind me. I looked back to see him struggling to balance as he removed one of his big Converse sneakers from his feet.
    ‘You don’t have to —’
    ‘I want to,’ Nick reassured me, hopping around to keep from falling over as he yanked off the other one.
    Shoes in hand, we walked down the beach until we reached a patch of sand next to a dune that was slightly sheltered from the oncoming winds. No one else was on the beach but us. This was our own private oasis.
    We sat down. I opened up the paper parcel, the delicious aroma of chicken salt and fried potato wafting out onto the breeze. I gestured for Nick to try some as I grabbed one myself, relishing the taste of its salty, crisp exterior and its warm, fluffy insides. You’d think I hadn’t eaten lunch a few hours