A Takeover from Cerys Evans
Let’s get one thing straight: I did not ask for this. One minute, I was elbow-deep in curds, minding my own business, when Meinir strolled in with that look in her eyes — the one that meant she was up to something. Before I could argue, she was handing me a plate and practically shoving me into a chair, all smiles and suspicious generosity. The next thing I knew I was trapped in a storm with the last person on earth I wanted to see.
Nick Davies.
You might know him as a rising rockstar. I know him as the boy who disappeared when I needed him most.
So, in honour of the utterly miserable predicament I find myself in, here are ten things I would genuinely, wholeheartedly rather do than be stuck in a storm with the one man capable of making me wish I was outside in the rain.
1. Clean the cheese cave with a toothbrush.
Ever tried scrubbing down a stone-walled, moisture-controlled cheese cave? No? Well, it’s a thrilling exercise in futility. Mould waits for no one, and neither do I. Hand me the toothbrush; I’d rather battle bacteria than my feelings.
2. Chase an escaped sheep through the village.
There is no dignity in running after a rogue ewe at full tilt while the local kids place bets on how long it will take before I land face-first in the mud. But even that level of humiliation is preferable to being stuck indoors with Nick and his stupidly handsome face.
3. Rewire the barn. In the dark.
Risk of electrocution? Minimal. Risk of biting my own tongue off rather than engage in another tense, loaded conversation with Nick? Considerably higher.
4. Listen to Meinir lecture me on the importance of taking time off.
She means well, but the woman is relentless. A solid hour of hearing about how I "need to live a little" is still better than spending one second in awkward silence with the person who once knew me better than anyone and now feels like a stranger.
5. Milk a particularly aggressive cow.
There’s always one. The kind that looks at you like it’s plotting your untimely demise the second you step into the milking shed. Bring it on. A solid hoof to the shin is preferable to making small talk with Nick about his glamorous life while I pretend I don’t care.
6. Attend a wedding where I’m the only single person at the table.
You know the ones. The couples exchange knowing glances, and some well-meaning aunt tries to set you up with her accountant's cousin's neighbour. It’s excruciating. But at least no one at that table once held my heart and then left without a word.
7. Hand-churn butter.
Listen, there’s something satisfying about working a churn until your arms feel like jelly, but it’s also the single most tedious thing I can think of. Still, I’d rather be wrist-deep in dairy than navigating the minefield of unresolved history currently flooding this kitchen.
8. Let the village gossip rework my dating profile.
Gwen at the post office is convinced she could "fix" my love life. Her version of me is, apparently, delightfully independent but also ready for love (I am neither). But even that horror show sounds more appealing than listening to Nick explain why he never came back.
9. Stand in the middle of a field during an actual lightning storm.
Dangerous? Yes. But at least Mother Nature doesn’t pretend she’s got my best interests at heart before letting me down spectacularly.
10. Admit that maybe, possibly, deep down, I still care.
No. Not happening. Absolutely not.
And yet, here I am. Stuck. Trapped by the relentless storm outside and the even worse one brewing in my chest. I’d love to tell you that I’m unaffected, that his presence doesn’t unravel something deep inside me. But we’ve already established that I’m a terrible liar.
It’s fine. It’s probably fine. Just a few hours. I can survive this. Right?
If you want to know how this disaster unfolds, read Rockstar Regret now and watch me suffer in real time.
