Hearts on Air
Page 62
“Yep,” I said, amused by his enthusiasm. “Are you thinking of becoming a Tibetan Buddhist or something?”
His smile widened but he shook his head and winked, “Nah, I’m far too wicked for that.”
I chuckled, because he wasn’t wicked at all. In fact, he was one of the nicest people I’d met on this trip.
“Although,” he went on, “the current Dalai Lama said there’s a chance his successor might be found in a country not under Chinese rule. So, ya know, technically I could be him.”
“I’m not sure it works that way. If he’s reincarnated, then wouldn’t he have to be dead before you were born?”
He shook his head, his expression playful. “Not necessarily. His soul could transmigrate.”
“But then you wouldn’t be you anymore,” I countered, smiling because he was being cute and seemed to have an answer for everything. Funnily enough, Paul did have a sort of childlike sense of playfulness reminiscent of the Dalai Lama. It was mischief without malice.
“Reya,” came a voice and I glanced up. Trev stood over us, his expression blank. Was he pissed I was talking to Paul? I realised belatedly how close we were sitting, our heads dipped together as we spoke.
“Hey,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“I need you to run to the pharmacy and grab some Tiger Balm. We’ve run low and Cal’s shoulder is still bothering him.”
“Oh, the chiropractor didn’t help?” I asked.
“I’m on my way to the shops to pick up a few things,” Neil cut in, having overheard our conversation. “So I can grab the Tiger Balm for Callum.”
Trev’s jaw firmed in irritation, but I didn’t completely get why he was in such a mood. He knew I didn’t fancy Paul, had even said so himself, so it shouldn’t bother him if we were talking. He grunted at Neil and stalked off. I watched as he joined Leanne, who was midway through a backflip while the crew filmed. The cameras immediately followed Trev as he ran up some steps, then climbed the wall to the tallest point. He braced himself on his hands when he reached the top, holding his entire body upside down, his feet in the air.
My pulse sped as I watched him prepare to jump.
Nineteen.
“Trevor! Get down from there. It’s too high,” Barry called out.
It was definitely higher than what he’d typically jump and I shot off the grass, scared that he’d actually do it. What the hell was going on with him today?
My legs moved fast. I was halfway across the park, but I wasn’t quick enough. Trev held his body up for a few seconds more, then did a backflip off the wall just like Leanne, only this drop was about ten feet higher. He landed on the ground roughly, not half as polished as his usual landings. His trainers skidded on the gravel.
“Jesus Christ!” Barry yelled angrily. “Are you off your fucking meds or something?”
Everything inside of me froze at his harshly spoken words. Everyone within a quarter-mile radius must’ve heard him, and what he said was way too personal.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” I blurted, furious. Barry cut me a vicious glare.
“He could’ve severely injured himself just now.”
Trev advanced on him, his expression fierce as he stared the director down. He briefly sliced his gaze to me then back to his boss. “Fuck you, Barry,” he spat. “And you’re welcome for the first decent shot all day.”
With that he stalked off. Barry called for him to come back but he wouldn’t listen.
“Is there something I should know about you and Trev?” Paul asked quietly, having come up behind me.
I glanced at him worriedly. “No, but . . .”
“You should go after him. Have a talk.”
I nodded and looked across the park but he’d already disappeared. I followed in the direction he went, but there was no sign of him anywhere. After about twenty minutes of searching I gave up and sent a text.
Reya: Where’d you go?
Five minutes later there was still no answer, so I ducked inside a café and ordered a cappuccino. When I finished my drink, I headed back to the park, but the crew were already packing up. I sighed and ordered an Uber to take me to the apartment.
It was empty when I got there, so I guessed everyone had gone out to dinner. I went and changed my top to freshen up. Just as I pulled it over my head, my phone chimed with a text. It was from Trev but there was no message, only a location.
I checked the route on my phone and as it was within walking distance, I grabbed my handbag and set out to find him. I spotted him immediately as I approached the bridge called Pont Alexandre III. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge, staring down at the Seine rushing by beneath. There were extravagant gold statues of angels and nymphs adorning the sides of the bridge, and for a second I imagined Trev as one of them. His thoughtful expression and stillness added to the effect.
When I got close enough I saw he wasn’t actually looking at the river, but at the black and gold nymph statue that was a centrepiece in the middle of the bridge.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said, leaning over the edge to get a better view.
He turned his head to me slowly, and I noticed the stress lines that marked his brow, a sign he’d been having a rough day. He looked back at the statue as he replied, “Not really.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
I came forward until I was close enough to touch his elbow. “How do you look at it?”
He exhaled deeply, his posture a little slumped. “I look at it and see all the poor buggers whose fingers probably bled to build this bridge. You look at it and see a shiny finished product. A bridge should be functional. It should get you from point A to point B. It’s only pretty to satisfy someone else’s ego.”
“I see you’ve spent some time thinking about all this,” I said, vaguely amused.
Trev lifted a shoulder. “I just know that if I were alive a hundred years ago, I’d be the stupid bastard whose hands bled.”
I chuffed a soft laugh. “And I’d be the poor fishwife living on scraps and waiting for her husband to get back from sea.”
His lips curved ever so slightly, so I knew my humour was breaking through. “I try to remember how lucky I am to be alive now, like, right at this moment in time,” he went on. “Sure, I had it rough growing up, but at least I had a chance to better myself. Sometimes I forget how rare that is. When I do stupid stuff to jeopardise what I have, I remind myself that had I been born to the same circumstances in any other period, I wouldn’t be where I am today. There wouldn’t be people willing to give me the chances I’ve been given.”
His smile widened but he shook his head and winked, “Nah, I’m far too wicked for that.”
I chuckled, because he wasn’t wicked at all. In fact, he was one of the nicest people I’d met on this trip.
“Although,” he went on, “the current Dalai Lama said there’s a chance his successor might be found in a country not under Chinese rule. So, ya know, technically I could be him.”
“I’m not sure it works that way. If he’s reincarnated, then wouldn’t he have to be dead before you were born?”
He shook his head, his expression playful. “Not necessarily. His soul could transmigrate.”
“But then you wouldn’t be you anymore,” I countered, smiling because he was being cute and seemed to have an answer for everything. Funnily enough, Paul did have a sort of childlike sense of playfulness reminiscent of the Dalai Lama. It was mischief without malice.
“Reya,” came a voice and I glanced up. Trev stood over us, his expression blank. Was he pissed I was talking to Paul? I realised belatedly how close we were sitting, our heads dipped together as we spoke.
“Hey,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“I need you to run to the pharmacy and grab some Tiger Balm. We’ve run low and Cal’s shoulder is still bothering him.”
“Oh, the chiropractor didn’t help?” I asked.
“I’m on my way to the shops to pick up a few things,” Neil cut in, having overheard our conversation. “So I can grab the Tiger Balm for Callum.”
Trev’s jaw firmed in irritation, but I didn’t completely get why he was in such a mood. He knew I didn’t fancy Paul, had even said so himself, so it shouldn’t bother him if we were talking. He grunted at Neil and stalked off. I watched as he joined Leanne, who was midway through a backflip while the crew filmed. The cameras immediately followed Trev as he ran up some steps, then climbed the wall to the tallest point. He braced himself on his hands when he reached the top, holding his entire body upside down, his feet in the air.
My pulse sped as I watched him prepare to jump.
Nineteen.
“Trevor! Get down from there. It’s too high,” Barry called out.
It was definitely higher than what he’d typically jump and I shot off the grass, scared that he’d actually do it. What the hell was going on with him today?
My legs moved fast. I was halfway across the park, but I wasn’t quick enough. Trev held his body up for a few seconds more, then did a backflip off the wall just like Leanne, only this drop was about ten feet higher. He landed on the ground roughly, not half as polished as his usual landings. His trainers skidded on the gravel.
“Jesus Christ!” Barry yelled angrily. “Are you off your fucking meds or something?”
Everything inside of me froze at his harshly spoken words. Everyone within a quarter-mile radius must’ve heard him, and what he said was way too personal.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” I blurted, furious. Barry cut me a vicious glare.
“He could’ve severely injured himself just now.”
Trev advanced on him, his expression fierce as he stared the director down. He briefly sliced his gaze to me then back to his boss. “Fuck you, Barry,” he spat. “And you’re welcome for the first decent shot all day.”
With that he stalked off. Barry called for him to come back but he wouldn’t listen.
“Is there something I should know about you and Trev?” Paul asked quietly, having come up behind me.
I glanced at him worriedly. “No, but . . .”
“You should go after him. Have a talk.”
I nodded and looked across the park but he’d already disappeared. I followed in the direction he went, but there was no sign of him anywhere. After about twenty minutes of searching I gave up and sent a text.
Reya: Where’d you go?
Five minutes later there was still no answer, so I ducked inside a café and ordered a cappuccino. When I finished my drink, I headed back to the park, but the crew were already packing up. I sighed and ordered an Uber to take me to the apartment.
It was empty when I got there, so I guessed everyone had gone out to dinner. I went and changed my top to freshen up. Just as I pulled it over my head, my phone chimed with a text. It was from Trev but there was no message, only a location.
I checked the route on my phone and as it was within walking distance, I grabbed my handbag and set out to find him. I spotted him immediately as I approached the bridge called Pont Alexandre III. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge, staring down at the Seine rushing by beneath. There were extravagant gold statues of angels and nymphs adorning the sides of the bridge, and for a second I imagined Trev as one of them. His thoughtful expression and stillness added to the effect.
When I got close enough I saw he wasn’t actually looking at the river, but at the black and gold nymph statue that was a centrepiece in the middle of the bridge.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said, leaning over the edge to get a better view.
He turned his head to me slowly, and I noticed the stress lines that marked his brow, a sign he’d been having a rough day. He looked back at the statue as he replied, “Not really.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
I came forward until I was close enough to touch his elbow. “How do you look at it?”
He exhaled deeply, his posture a little slumped. “I look at it and see all the poor buggers whose fingers probably bled to build this bridge. You look at it and see a shiny finished product. A bridge should be functional. It should get you from point A to point B. It’s only pretty to satisfy someone else’s ego.”
“I see you’ve spent some time thinking about all this,” I said, vaguely amused.
Trev lifted a shoulder. “I just know that if I were alive a hundred years ago, I’d be the stupid bastard whose hands bled.”
I chuffed a soft laugh. “And I’d be the poor fishwife living on scraps and waiting for her husband to get back from sea.”
His lips curved ever so slightly, so I knew my humour was breaking through. “I try to remember how lucky I am to be alive now, like, right at this moment in time,” he went on. “Sure, I had it rough growing up, but at least I had a chance to better myself. Sometimes I forget how rare that is. When I do stupid stuff to jeopardise what I have, I remind myself that had I been born to the same circumstances in any other period, I wouldn’t be where I am today. There wouldn’t be people willing to give me the chances I’ve been given.”
