Alicia Martinez is determined to keep a low profile. After a tough year, she deletes all of her social media and retreats to the small coastal town of St Andrews in the hopes of starting over - and avoiding her tumultuous past.
Oliver Hogarth is a...
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Greg woke up and turned off his alarm. He showered — cold water, exactly five minutes — and then brushed his teeth. Today, he dressed in his Thursday outfit: black slacks, a pink shirt, and a white tie. He bleached it once a week, to keep it pristine.
Then he went to his computer.
He followed the usual routine: opening a private browser, setting the time frame to a week, and then typing in the search term.
A result popped up.
Greg paused, his finger hovering over his mousepad. He could feel his pulse accelerate. He was experiencing a release of hormones that caused increased heart palpitations, Greg recalled. The adrenaline would linger in his bloodstream for up to one hour.
He clicked on the result.
And there she was, standing on some grassy hill in the darkness, kissing a stranger. The image was grainy, but it was unmistakeably her.
Alicia.
He didn't know the man, but it didn't matter. Greg would get rid of him. By force, if he had to. He noted the location — Edinburgh, although the article said that the couple had been spotted more recently in St Andrews — and then pulled out his phone.
He had a train ticket to book.
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Alicia was in shock.
She stumbled on to the empty street, staring around numbly. Twilight plunged the town into shadow, making the dark buildings look jagged and crooked as rotting teeth. Brine and sickly-sweet flowers hung in the air. Somewhere, she could hear church bells ringing and seagulls squabbling for scraps.
"Alicia!"
She started walking.
"Alicia!" Oliver seized her shoulder. "Wait. Please."
"Why?" she snapped. "So you can lie to me some more?"
Oliver flinched. "I deserve that." He dropped his hand, his jaw working. "I deserve a lot more than that, actually."
"So you admit it." Her chest was heaving. "You're him. You're..."
She couldn't even bring herself to say it. She thought of every time that Oliver had lied to her about being a dancer. The smug look on the other boys' faces as they bandied around that word today. Patriots. And she had sat there, smiling like an idiot, oblivious to it all.
