Free The Kiera Hudson Prequels 2 by Tim O'Rourke Page B

nothing to say sorry for,” I said, snatching up my coat and heading past him toward the door. “Let’s just forget it.”
    “ If you’re sure,” I heard Tom say as I left the room and headed along the landing and toward the stairs.
     
    Tom
     
    How I wanted to dig a big hole and climb inside it. I knew that Kiera had been hiding in her room in fear of me taking her in my arms and contemplating kissing her again. Why had I been so stupid! I had made her feel so uncomfortable that she had shut herself away in her room all afternoon. What sort of a friend would do that? Some friend I was turning out to be. And in my heart I knew that if I didn’t get my feelings under control – and soon – I might scare Kiera away altogether. She had made it perfectly clear to me on more than one occasion that all she wanted from me was friendship and I had to respect that. Jesus, I was behaving like a horny fourteen-year-old.
    I followed Kiera from the room and along the landing. She had asked me to forget what had happened in the kitchen, so I would. I didn’t want to cause her any more embarrassment or discomfort. I just wanted to have a fun evening with my friend .
    Friend! Friend! Friend! Friend! Friend! May as well drum it into your thick skull, Tom, because that’s all she wants. So get over it, I told myself.
    Reaching the hallway, I picked up the cake I had made, which now sat in a plastic container on a nearby chair. I opened the front door and we stepped out into the cold. It had started to rain again. “Shall we go in my car?” I asked her. “There’s no point…”
    “ That will be fine,” Kiera cut in, heading quickly through the rain to my car.
    I pressed the key fob with my thumb and the locks on the doors opened. Kiera climbed inside. I got in beside her and started the car. We drove in silence down the gravel path and back out onto the narrow road.
    “ So you finished the cake?” Kiera asked. I doubted she was really interested in my baking skills. She was just trying to fill the silence.
    “ Yep,” was all I could think of to say.
    “ It smells good,” she sighed.
    “ Let’s hope Mr. Splitfoot’s spirit guide thinks the same, or this is going to be one big waste of time,” I said.
     
    We reached the pub just before seven. It wasn’t a long drive from my parents’ house and eventually the conversation between Kiera and me had become a little less difficult. By the time I’d parked the car in front of the pub, it was like the embarrassing incident in the kitchen had never happened. I felt a massive sense of relief that my schoolboy behaviour hadn’t damaged our friendship.
    Together we ran the short distance through the rain and into the pub. The name of the pub was stencilled above the old oak door, but most of the lettering had fallen away. The only visible word remaining was Steam . Above this was a painting of a black steam train, thick clouds of smoke spewing from its dark funnel. I pushed the door open. Kiera slipped under my arm and I followed her inside. There was a group of people gathered at one end of the bar. Most of them were elderly and each of them clutched a Tupperware box or cake tin under one arm. Kiera saw them too. Glancing back at me, she smiled.
    “ Want a drink?” I asked, taking one of the ten pound notes I had found in the cookie jar from my pocket.
    “ Just a Coke,” Kiera said.
    The bartender was a bony man with a bald head, and glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose. From over the top of them he eyed the cake box under my arm. “With that lot, are you?” he said, nodding in the direction of those gathered at the other end of the bar.
    “ Yes,” I said then ordered our drinks.
    “ You don’t look the type,” the bartender said, pushing two Cokes across the bar at me.
    “ Type for what?” Kiera asked him.
    “ A séance,” the bartender said.
    “ It’s just a bit of fun,” I told him.
    “ Is it?” the bartender said, cocking an eyebrow at us