I don’t know, maybe spending my teens perpetually ‘in the friend zone’ coloured my perspective, but getting to know someone before you jumped their bones seemed like the way to go to me. However long that took, I’d wait. I had to get through this last tough year of uni, anyway, so I really didn’t mind.
What I did mind, sometimes, was feeling like a spare wheel, although since Leigh had moved in, it had become easier. Noah and Matty could be pretty full-on, and I was sure they forgot I was there at times—not that they ever got up to anything private in my presence, but still. We’d always done a lot of stuff as a threesome, and with Leigh around, I could almost pretend we were double dating. Ah, hopes and dreams…
We reached the English block, where we parted company with Matty and Leigh, who continued to walk ahead for half a minute, oblivious to the fact Noah and I had stopped walking. Matty came dashing back, stretched up to kiss Noah, said, “Laters,” and dashed off again. It all happened in my peripheral vision; my eyes were on Leigh’s back. Dr. Martens boots, black pants with loops and buckles dangling from them, braces, electric-blue sweater…
“Leigh’s dyed their hair,” I observed.
“Dunno,” Noah said, like I’d asked a question.
“Yeah, they have.” It wasn’t as blue as their top, but it was definitely blue. Matty caught up with them, and Leigh turned and glanced back. They made eye contact with me and smiled again. My belly flipped, my face tingled. God, how could a smile stop the world like that? It had to be some kind of sorcery. Hit pause, mute all sound, zoom in, in, in…so close I could see the tiny nose stud, the sparkle in their eyes…and then it reversed, like an enormous spring uncoiling, and Leigh zoomed away, back to reality. Matty reappeared at their side; Noah chuckled at mine.
At the last second, I remembered how to move my limbs and waved back. Leigh’s smile turned into a grin as they and Matty rounded a corner and were gone.
“Come on, you big sook,” Noah said playfully and slung an arm around my shoulders, steering me into the building.
“Am I?” I asked. Noah’s smirk was all the answer I was getting, but I knew it for myself. I couldn’t help it where Leigh was concerned. Every time I saw them, everything around us ceased to exist, leaving only Leigh and my hyper-awareness of Leigh. The sheen of their hair, the pale, smooth creaminess of their skin, the cheeky way they rolled their eyes, the hugeness of their pupils when they were scared or excited, the velvety softness of their lips. OK, I may have added my own details about their lips, but if I’d shut my eyes, I’d have heard, felt…I don’t know…telepathically sensed their presence. Leigh had some kind of power over me beyond anything I’d experienced before. Seriously, if Pink turned up on my doorstep and gave me the ultimatum, ‘It’s me or Leigh’, I wouldn’t even need to think about it.
The morning’s lecture passed in a blur, and it was the first of the year. I really needed to pay attention, but my concentration was shot, and by the end, I’d written next to nothing and learnt even less. Noah stood by, waiting for me to pack up my stuff and checking his phone. I was trying to hurry because everyone else had left already, aaaand…there was my bag, upended on the floor. Yeah.
“Sorry, sorry…” I muttered for Noah’s benefit and crouched, unceremoniously shoving everything back into my bag. Or not, because I was watching Noah and just kind of shifting the heap of stuff from one spot on the floor to another. “I wonder how Ryan’s getting on?”
Noah turned his phone around and showed me Ryan’s status onscreen: Franzen will be the death of me. Why did I choose this module again?
“I knew he’d hate it,” I said, because I’d told him, back in May—when we completed our module choice forms and he decided on Modern American Fiction while Noah and I opted for Post-War British Poetry—that the reading list included all of Franzen’s novels, and that was only the start of it. Meanwhile, Noah and I had one single volume of poetry to get through between now and next May. We’d learnt our lesson in second year, when we’d had American Literature with the same lecturer who ran the Modern American Fiction module. Even the most avid of readers wouldn’t have made it through all those novels, and Ryan was far from avid. I loved reading, but I had three other modules to pass, and my head wasn’t exactly in the game.
I finally got my act together, hoisted my bag onto one shoulder and hurried from the lecture theatre, repeating my apology once we were out in the fresh air and I could breathe again.
“No worries,” Noah said, completely chill. “You’re a bit jittery today.”
“I’m all right.”
“Uh-huh?”
“What? I am all right.”
“You want a copy of my notes?”
“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind. Mine are…” Non-existent. “A mess.”
“I noticed,” Noah said dryly. I knew he wouldn’t taunt me further. “Is it too early for lunch?”
It was only just past eleven o’clock, and we should’ve had a critical theory lecture, but Brian—our lecturer—was away at a conference. Plus, if we didn’t eat then, we’d hit the lunchtime rush. It was that or leave it until after our seminar, by which point it would be four o’clock. Tuesdays were going to be a killer this year.
“Let’s eat now,” I said. Where d’you wanna go?” The campus café was dead ahead of us, and it didn’t look as mad in there as it had the previous day. Noah gestured the suggestion we go in, and I shrugged my consent.
We had a fair few conversations like that—all nods, shrugs, waves of hands. Four years of friendship had given us that. We’d met in sixth-form college; Noah’s family had moved from London up to Norwich during the summer, so he knew no one, and the only students I knew were those who’d made my life a misery at school. Typical, seeing as I’d intentionally gone to college to avoid them, rather than stay in our school’s sixth form. Net result: my mates all stayed on and Big Jesse was on his own.
Noah and I were like two fish out of water who’d just discovered we weren’t the only ones flapping about on the shoreline, although we were the only ones who were six-foot-plus and, seemingly, interested in passing our A’ Levels. That first English Lit. lesson, we clicked, and we’d never looked back.
I queued behind Noah so I could take my lead from what he ordered. It was a form of portion control for me, because we always had big meals at home, although when I thought about it, they weren’t any bigger than Noah’s brother-in-law served. The difference was Noah stopped eating when he was full, and he went to the gym, whereas I ate until I could hardly move and did very little in the way of exercise. I wasn’t lazy, not really. I looked after my grandma’s enormous garden and greenhouse—Mum was still trying to persuade her to move to somewhere more manageable—and tried to walk to uni at least twice a week.
The trouble was, so many years of failing at sports and having the piss taken out of me in games lessons meant exercise wasn’t part of my routine like it was for Noah. He’d played rugby at high school, and Adam and Sol were both fitness fanatics. Matty spent hours dancing every day. Even Leigh was a runner.
All in all, it made me feel like a lazy slob, and I only had myself to blame. If I could eat just a little bit less and exercise a little bit more, I’d find equilibrium. In my head, if I looked at it rationally, it was easy. In reality, it was impossible. Until I lost some weight, I couldn’t face exercising in front of other people, knowing what they’d be thinking, and I couldn’t lose weight without exercising.
Noah didn’t comment on my lunch selection—a tuna on granary sandwich, banana and a carton of juice—which was exactly the same as he’d picked. I saw him eyeing the chocolate bars but then he walked on by.
“Don’t do without on my account,” I said. I didn’t eat chocolate, or not at uni. I’d made it a rule when we started, because there was a vending machine in our sixth-form college, and I’d scoffed about four bars a day—around a thousand calories in chocolate alone. I was ashamed of myself.
“Nah, I’m all right,” Noah said.
>
He paid, I paid, and we went outside, to the terrace, where the tables weren’t crammed so closely together and we’d have more leg room, although it was deserted, anyway.
“I’m glad the first years haven’t discovered this place yet,” Noah observed.
“Me, too.” I looked at the empty tables surrounding us and opened my sandwich, glad of the opportunity to eat without feeling self-conscious, and this time, it wasn’t on me. People did stare when they saw me eating. Not all of them, but some. Worse was having someone I barely knew say something like ‘try replacing that with a piece of fruit’ when it might have been the first cake I’d had in a week. They meant well, I’m sure, but whatever made them think it was OK to do that?
“You fancy a study sesh tonight?” Noah asked, and I was grateful for him dragging me out of my thoughts. It wasn’t even happening, and I was getting myself worked up.
“Yep. My place?” I suggested.
“If you like. There’s more room at ours, though.”
“True.” I knew what he was doing. Noah was subtle and he wasn’t pushy, but I was wise to his ploys. “But Matty’ll be there.”
“So will Leigh.”
“Noah…”
“All I meant was Leigh can keep Matty company while we get some work done. What did you think I meant?”
I tried to scowl, but it became a smile. “Lying git.”
Noah shrugged, like he had no idea what I was talking about, and took a bite of his sandwich. He was leaving me to think it over, or pretending to. Seeing as I’d already agreed to studying, he knew I wouldn’t go back on it, although whether I’d get anything done with Leigh in the vicinity was questionable.
* * * * *
Chapter Three
“Come in, Jess,” Adam called out of an open upstairs window. In fact, all of the farmhouse windows were open. It was crazy warm for late September, and humid, too, as evidenced by shirt number three of the day. I’d need to stick some washing on when I got home, and I still hadn’t got around to ordering holiday gear. I saw a sleepless night in my not-so-distant future, though—our flat reached melting point on days like this—so at least I’d have a means of whiling away the hours.
I did as Adam suggested, opening the door a couple of inches and waiting for Suky—the Ashtons’ mad German shepherd—to leap at it and slam it shut again. Instead, the door handle was whipped from my hand, and Matty appeared in front of me.
“Alright?” he asked with a grin.
“Yeah.” Frowning, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. “Where’s the dog?”
Matty pointed into the kitchen, where poor Suky was flat out on the tiled floor, legs pointing all four directions of the compass, tongue hanging from her mouth.
“I hope it stays like this for Cornwall,” Matty said.
“Hmm,” I agreed ambiguously, watching his back as he retreated up the stairs. I really hoped it didn’t. I couldn’t stand this heat for more than a few hours, although it would be cooler on the coast, with any luck.
I followed Matty, the temperature rising the further up we went, until we arrived in the oven that was Noah and Matty’s room in the attic.
“Bloody hell, it’s hot in here.” I blew air out of my mouth, lifting some of my hair from where it was stuck with sweat to my forehead.
“Yep,” Noah agreed. He was lying on his back in the middle of the floor, arms and legs stretched out, a fan blowing up his t-shirt and shorts. I had to laugh, although…
“I can see what you had for breakfast.”
Noah lifted his shoulders from the floor in a shrug and jumped to his feet. “We should study outside. What d’you reckon?”
“Yeah, fine.” Anywhere other than where we were, really.
I about-turned and retraced my steps downstairs, where Suky was in the process of emptying her water bowl. I passed her by on my way out to the yard, or what had been a yard when the Ashtons moved in, but was now sectioned off into different areas, with a path leading past the chicken pen and henhouse on the left, grapevines and a veggie patch on the right, beyond that a patio furnished with table, chairs, loungers, heaters, lights, barbecue, power supply… It was basically an outside room with a foldaway gazebo that could be erected as and when required.
It was at that point I realised I wasn’t alone, as in, Noah hadn’t followed me out, but I could hear someone in the henhouse…singing to the hens. The door fully opened, and Leigh emerged, shielding their eyes against the patio lights.
“Hey, Jesse.”
“Hello.” They were shrouded in shadow but it made no difference. At least my heart wasn’t short of a good workout or ten.
“You OK?”
“Yep.” Urgh. Where the hell were my words? This was starting to get really annoying. I’d liked Leigh from the start—not the instant attraction/choking incident…well, obviously, I liked them then, but I was only counting from when we were properly introduced, and I’d realised that Leigh was just as beautiful inside as out. At first, my nervousness made me talk too much, but Leigh was chatty, too, so we just kind of gabbled our way through conversations, and it had all been a bit giddy and out of control, but we were talking. Now, I couldn’t think what to say at all, and I was sure it was getting worse.
“What’s up?” Leigh advanced and stopped a couple of feet away, frowning inquisitively, mixed with a bit of concern. I pointed at my mouth. “Sore throat?” Leigh guessed, but that wasn’t what I’d meant.
“Lip,” I uttered.
“Cold sore?”
“No. Yours.”
“Oh!” Leigh laughed. It was enchanting, Leigh’s laughter, a breathy ‘hah’ and a gasped inhalation over which their smile lingered. Honestly, sometimes I could’ve rolled my eyes at myself, because everything about Leigh was just…perfect. They poked their tongue against the inside of their lip, flinching slightly.
“New piercing?” Woot! Actual words. Go, Jesse!
“Yeah. Got it done this afternoon. Do you like it?”
It was a perfect excuse to move closer, but my shoes seemed to have stuck themselves to the ground. I settled for nodding instead. “How many’s that now?”
Leigh thought, at the same time reaching up a hand and feeling their way along one ear then the other, counting under their breath. “Eight? I think one’s healed over. Has it?”
They stretched up towards me, but their hair was covering their ear. I clamped my lips between my teeth in an effort to make it less obvious that my breath was juddering with nerves. I lifted my hand and brushed Leigh’s hair back, trying to stay focused on their ear, overwhelmed by their closeness, their soft hair tickling my fingers, the relative coolness of their skin where our hands touched…
“Three,” I pushed out.
“Is there a hole at the top with nothing in it?”
That part of Leigh’s ear was still in shadow. My fingers combed through the strands of hair—shiny midnight blue in the twilight—as I moved it behind Leigh’s ear. “I think so.”
“Eight, then,” Leigh confirmed.
“OK.”
“It was meant to be a snakebite—” They poked at the lip piercing again, same result as last time “—but it hurt like hell.”
“A snakebite? What’s that?” I hadn’t moved my hand away. I wasn’t sure I could.
“One on either side.”
“Cool.” I liked piercings. They were fun, and if I’d been slimmer, or less bothered about not being slimmer, I’d have probably got my eyebrow pierced, although…maybe it would draw attention away from the rest of me.
I couldn’t recall if Leigh had piercings when I first met them. I was kind of overwhelmed, and everything had gone a bit hazy and soft focus. Whether Leigh had them or not, I’d still feel the same, but the nose stud was definitely recent.
Would the one on their lip make kissing more difficult? Why was I even thinking about that?
Leigh had kissed me once. On the cheek. It was the day Matty was assaulted—by his dad. Leigh nee
ded a shot of hydrocortisone, which they self-administered and everything was fine, but they still should’ve gone to the hospital to get checked out. Of course, they refused to—I didn’t blame them, to be honest, but I kept that to myself at the time—and so, I accompanied Leigh home and hung around until the adults got back. Yeah, I know; I was an adult, too, but still.
It was the quickest kiss, and it had only been to say thanks, or maybe it had been more. I just didn’t know. We were both pretty shy in that respect. What if we were both also waiting for the other to be bold enough to ask us out on a date, or make a move or something? We might never get any further than this disjointed conversing that seemed to have replaced the ease with which we used to chatter.
“I’d better go in,” Leigh said.
“OK.” Please don’t.
They turned and walked back towards the house, taking their time—were they waiting for me to stop them? As they reached the door, they paused and called, “D’you need a drink or anything?”
Oh! “Yes, please. Diet Coke?”
Leigh nodded and smiled. “Be right back.”
“Thanks!” I shouted, but they’d already disappeared inside. I swear I was gonna be Jesse the Puddle by the time they got back—why did it have to be so damn hot? Why did they?
It was then that I noticed, as I watched Leigh pass the kitchen window on the way to the fridge, that Noah was in there, too. He said something to Leigh and looked out at me, gesturing the number two with his fingers. Two what? Drinks? Minutes? Chairs?
I went with the last one and put my bag on the table so I could pull the covers off two of the patio chairs. I found the lighter under the barbecue and lit the citronella stick in the middle of the table. Biting insects loved me—my grandma said it was because I was hot-blooded, ha-ha, more like there was plenty of me to go around—and there were a lot of them out tonight because of the humidity.
The Making of Us Page 3
