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Peppermint tea. Her absolute favourite, her every single day drink of choice. If she had to choose between water and her precious peppermint tea, it wouldn’t be a hard decision.
But that changed after the villa. She could barely look at the delicious beverage the same, let alone drink it.
It was hard settling back into her every day life after something as spontaneous and different as the villa. But one thing she didn’t think would be so much of a struggle was what tea she’d have in the morning. It was silly.
Thoughts would race through her mind of waking up with a gentle hand on her cheek, the bleary vision of a gorgeous blond crouched beside her with a steaming mug.
His deep baritone voice still soothed her thoughts; her nerves, anxieties and stress were all calmed by memorizing the comforting words of reassurance he’d give her each day. The simple “I love you’s” that were said so often, yet never lost their meaning. The cheeky glances and ridiculous jokes. The way he stood, for fuck’s sake. Every little thing made her mind race faster, her thoughts purely occupied by one hunky blond who she just couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried.
—
News story after news story, article after article, each one a new hole in her heart. So many photos of Gary - her Gary - with a familiar girl, at cafes, going to lunch, dancing in a pub. Every image that crossed her timeline, each link she was sent burned deeper and deeper into her mind.
With a huff and a sniffle she stood, going to the kettle to boil some water and make some toast. After all, love is finding someone who makes you toast when you’re sad. The same way he used to do it for her. She had to settle into making her own toast.
It wasn’t the same. The tea was now a plain fruity lemon, the citrus a sharp contrast to her sweet peppermint that she remembers so vividly. No longer was she waking up to ruffled, messy blond locks and a goofy smile, but alone, in her flat without the cheeky man who she loved so much.
Her phone dinging again and again had her in an upset - everyone, at least from the villa, knew how she felt with him. How strong they were together.
It felt like a lie. Every day he told her “I love you”, each tender kiss, the way his hands ran soothingly across her skin, his beard tickling her legs when he’d-
All lies.
It was a summer fling, and nothing more. But her feelings were far stronger than a summer fling; someone to play around with while on holiday. She loved him. And he said he loved her, but god damn it, he didn’t.
She hated how much she still loved him, how often she thought of his calloused palms on her cheek, gently caressing her skin, pulling her into a kiss.
But, once a player, always a player.
She ran through that sentence too many times to count. What did she expect? For him to find a girl and settle down? He had a body count in the 50’s, there was no ‘settling down’ for that boy. It seemed different though, every time they had gotten intimate, he treated her with love, care and respect. Not like a one night stand, ripping her clothes off and fucking her relentlessly. It was tender, gentle, affectionate sex between two people who loved each other. At least, it seemed like it.
Nearly every night she’d cry herself to sleep, the space beside her cold and empty, absent of the man she loved so much. His strong arms no longer wrapped around her waist as he spooned her, his chest against her back as she fell asleep to his calming breaths.
Being woken up by a noisy alarm clock instead of the gentle kisses across her face, on her nose and jaw was like a heart attack each morning. She missed him, and she hated herself for it. The feeling of his ridiculously greasy blond locks tangled in her fingers when she’d wake up before him, the soft snores and quiet hiccups as he dreamt, it was like she lost not only him, but a piece of herself as well.
The stupid man had occupied every inch of her thoughts, to the point where she couldn’t pass a construction site without nearly breaking down. Every conversation about their future; meeting his nan, going there for the infamous Sunday Lunch. Taking her to the shipyard to watch the lights at night, showing her all the controls on the cranes... it was a fucking lie. All of it.
It didn’t help that she still checked his socials. He rarely posted on Instagram; she remembered him telling her about how weird he felt using it, but she still checked it, waiting for a new photo to show up.
While it may have seemed like she’d forgotten his face after not seeing so much as a photo of him since the villa, she couldn’t ever forget what he looked like. His face was burned into her memory, his goofy grin, cheeky smirk, and his oh-so heavenly o face. The way his brows knitted together, his lips parted, grunts and moans coming out as he bit into her shoulder. The way her nails would leave little crescent shaped indents on his back, the skin red and raw from her scratching at him just the way he liked it. How he moaned out her name, the sound pouring absolute bliss into her heart. It was disgusting to her that she still thought of it to get off.
The kettle whistling brings her back, and she pours the water into her mug. A large pink and white one given to her by Chelsea.
To the world you are one person, but to me you are the world.
It was how she felt about him, only, it seemed he didn’t feel the same, despite how many times he said he did. The lemon teabag steeped in the water, and she turned to the toaster. She shut her eyes, memories coming back like a flood.
—
Gary took a fork, lifting the toast out of the toaster, before she grabbed it from him with a shout. “Do you want to get electrocuted?!”
He only chuckled, holding up the plug. “I’m not that daft, love.”
She rolled her eyes, slapping his arm playfully before leaning into his chest. “I suppose you’re not,” she smiled.
“I have to ask, and this is the most important question in a relationship: what do you have on your toast?” he asked, a grin on his face as he put the bread on a plate.
She hummed. “Butter, marmalade, jam... most anything but Vegemite.”
He laughed his wonderfully deep chuckle, his chest rumbling with the pleasant sound. “That I’ll agree with. Top girl!” he held up his hand, high-fiving her. He spread the marmalade on the toast, the orangey yellow tint caught the sun in a way that it shone back at his face.
She could do nothing but smile at him. Oh, how she loved this man, more than anything else in the world. “I love you, you know,” she said in a hush as she hugged his side.
“I love you, too,” he grinned, squeezing her waist against him in a comforting embrace.
—
Fucking lies. All of it.
She sat back on the couch, huffing as she sipped her tea. The citrus was sharp, almost sour tasting against her tongue. She missed the sweetness of her peppermint dearly, but she couldn’t put herself through it. It was silly, but the taste of that sweet minty goodness not only reminded her of him waking her with a tea each morning, but of his delicious scent, a minty Irish Spring body wash.
A ding from her phone had her glancing at it; a message. Unlocking it, her heart sunk to her feet, her toes tingling. Only an Instagram link took up the text, and as she clicked it, her mind seemed to melt, her heart shattering to bits.
A photo. Gary - Her Gary, a certain Aussie blonde, and a ring.
It was too much. He was truly gone. Her thoughts, as if they weren’t bad enough, would be filled with the knowledge of him as a husband - not to her. He could settle down, just not with her.
After all, it was a summer fling, and nothing more.