by Vicky Owen
Sam sighs and forcibly puts the token down on the table. ‘Wasn’t it enough to see what Cerys went through with Jake?’
‘That was different,’ I say, twisting my mitten in my hands.
‘How?’
‘They knew each other already.’
And they’re actually in love, unlike me and Luc.
And in a real relationship.
Sam frowns. ‘This is a really bad idea,’ she says, shaking her head.
‘I’ll be fine!’ Aware of the heightened tone of my voice, I take a deep breath and repeat myself more calmly. ‘Everything will be fine. It’s not how it seems.’ I bite down on my lip before I say too much. Luc said I can’t tell anyone.
‘Not how it seems?’ Mylo says.
I hate this.
‘I…well I’m not Cerys. And Luc isn’t my, like, lifelong crush or whatever. It’s just a fling,’ I ramble, tripping over words as I scramble for a plausible explanation. At least that’ll make it less of a big deal when we “break-up” in a few weeks or months or whatever. When Luc’s ex finally drops any hope of them getting back together.
‘Didn’t look like “just a fling” when you were kissing in the ice rink earlier,’ says Dan, grinning.
Sigh. I really liked you, Dan.
Sam looks at me. Mylo raises an eyebrow, but keeps his eyes on the cards in his hand. He resumes shuffling, slowly.
I frown. ‘We didn’t kiss!’
All three of them look unconvinced.
‘We haven’t kissed at all. We’re just hanging out, really.’ I want to kick myself for not going with the “just friends” narrative originally. At least for my friends. Seems like less of a lie, somehow, although either way it’s not the truth. Damn it. I’m such an idiot. Why couldn’t Luc have found someone quicker on their feet?
Sam continues to look at me, an eyebrow raised. How can someone so tiny look so scary?
The front door creaks open.
The four of us look down the hall, towards the sound of giggling.
Cerys and Jake appear around the corner as the door clicks shut behind them.
‘Oh hey guys! Everyone is here,’ she beams, looking up at Jake. I haven’t seen her this happy since first year, when our grades didn’t matter so much.
He has an arm wrapped protectively around her and I feel a pang of something.
‘What are you playing?’ Jake says, leaning forward to get a better look at the table and squeezing Cerys’ shoulders. She squeals in response.
Sam ignores Jake and looks at Cerys. ‘Did you know about this?’
Confusion crosses Cerys’ face and her smile half-drops as she looks between the four of us. She frowns. ‘Know about what?’
‘Lexi and Luc.’
Cerys looks at me, then back to Sam. ‘No…?’ She looks up at Jake.
I look at him too, wide-eyed, pleading silently for him to somehow rescue the situation. He looks back, but the uncertainty on his face isn’t reassuring. I’m not sure if he even knows.
Either way, he says nothing.
‘They were ice skating and making out, although Lexi’s claiming it’s just a fling,’ Sam says. ‘Or they’re just hanging out.’ She throws me disapproving look. ‘I’m not sure she even knows.’
This is humiliating. I take a deep breath. ‘Sam, I am right here. There’s no need to tell on me like I’m some fucking delinquent child!’
‘Well maybe if you could tell us what you were playing at—’
‘Sam, just drop it,’ Mylo interjects, pausing his shuffling again.
Sam opens her mouth to carry on but decides against it, crossing her arms and shaking her head instead.
After a few seconds’ silence, Cerys speaks. ‘So Luc is the guy you’ve been seeing. Why didn’t you tell us?’
I look down. I don’t know why I’m looking down. I have nothing to be ashamed about. I haven’t done anything wrong!
‘It’s ridiculous,’ Sam mutters.
‘Why?’ I shoot back, looking up again. ‘Am I not good enough?’ I cringe a little as I say the words, knowing that Luc’s friend is right there listening, possibly knowing that I’m nothing more than a sham girlfriend. Of course I’m not good enough. I’m a mess who doesn’t even know what to do with my life.
Sam pushes her chair back and stands up, heading for the kitchen counter. ‘No,’ she says slowly, opening a cupboard and grabbing a tall glass. ‘Because you’re going to get hurt.’ Her voice is noticeably softer now, her back to us as she fills the glass with water from the tap. She turns around and takes a sip, making eye contact.
I bristle, annoyed that she thinks I’m some fourteen-year-old who can’t take care of herself. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Do you?’ Mylo says. He puts the deck of cards down on the table.
Not you, too.
I look between them. ‘Do you all think I’m some emotional wreck who can’t handle just seeing some guy?’
They—Cerys, Mylo and Sam—all exchange a look for a moment. Jake and Dan shift awkwardly, clearly the uncomfortable outsiders to this clusterfuck.
‘Well,’ Cerys says slowly, glancing at Jake before looking back at me, ‘you did seem a bit starstruck the first time you met him. Even though he was with some other girl.’
Everyone looks at me.
Oh my God. Why isn’t the ground swallowing me up?
Jake frowns. ‘Who?’ he asks, looking at Cerys.
‘I don’t know. Candy or something,’ Cerys shrugs.
Jake thinks for a moment. ‘Oh yeah. I haven’t seen her since that night, though.’ He looks at me like he’s trying to reassure me, but I still can’t tell if he’s covering for Luc or if he doesn’t actually know the truth.
I inhale deeply. ‘See. You’re all seeing things that aren’t even there,’ I say defiantly, knowing full well the irony of my words.
Sam finishes her drink. ‘Whatever,’ she says, rinsing out the glass. ‘I’m not really in the mood for games any more.’ She grabs her coat from the arm of the sofa and shrugs herself into it.
Dan sighs audibly and leans back in his chair, rubbing his face. ‘Sorry guys. Shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘Sam, just stay. We can still play,’ Mylo says, standing.
‘No, I’m not in the mood for it any more.’ She waves her hand dismissively and starts heading for the hallway, pausing as she draws level with me and looking up at my face.
I’ve never felt so huge and so vulnerable all at once.
‘Lexi,’ she sighs, shaking her head and looking forward again, ‘you’re a fool.’
I want to respond, but I haven’t got a clue what to say.
Maybe she’s right.
She disappears down the hall and the front door clicks shut behind her.
The atmosphere is unbearable. I bite the top of my thumb, avoiding eye contact with the four people left in the room with me.
‘We could still play?’ Jake tries, nudging Cerys towards the table.
Cerys reaches out and touches my arm. ‘Lexi?’ she says, softly.
I shake my head and walk to my room, afraid of what I might say.
Kicking off my shoes and sinking onto my bed, I feel sick.
I hate this.
Should have just told the truth.
SIXTEEN
Luc
‘SO WHAT DO you think?’
Harry leans back on the sofa, studying one of the two photographs he’s holding. He says nothing, ignoring my question.
It’s just the two of us in his living room.
The ticking of a huge clock on the wall opposite is the only sound.
Who even bought that? Harry?
Can’t imagine Harry buying a clock.
His lack of response isn’t encouraging. I actually feel kind of uncomfortable. As if him disliking them would be a personal slight.
Suddenly regretting showing him.
He switches photographs, looking at the second now.
Still nothing.
Just tick tick tick.
I’ve never noticed that clock before. He doesn’t even wear a watch. Why has he got that clock?
I look around the room while I wait for a response. It’s so quiet. Too quiet. Apart from the fucking clock. I’m not just talking about the noise levels, though.
It’s less than two weeks until Christmas and not a single decoration. No tree, no lights. Nothing.
But then Harry never really does celebrate Christmas.
‘They’re good,’ he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. ‘Although I’m no expert. Who took them?’ He looks at me, but doesn’t hand the photos back yet.
‘I was thinking Shelly could use some help,’ I say, ignoring his question. ‘On tour, I mean.’ Shelly’s our official photographer. She doesn’t need help. That’s not what I was thinking at all. Obviously.
Harry narrows his eyes at me. ‘She hasn’t mentioned anything.’ Not buying it. Neither would I.
‘Yeah,’ I try, ‘but we might need to replace her some day. If she gets a better offer from another band, I mean.’
Harry raises his eyebrow at me. ‘Who took the pictures, Luc?’
I sigh. ‘Look, just…do you think Shelly would be up for mentoring someone? I mean, she’s’—I gesture towards the photos in his hand, refusing to admit her name—‘pretty fucking good already. She won’t need much direction.’
He sighs. ‘So what you’re saying is, you want Lexi to come on tour with us.’
‘No, I’m just trying to help her out,’ I say, irked that he had to bring her into it. Like this is about my wants.
‘Uh-huh. Right,’ Harry smirks. ‘Thought you were already helping her out. Or she’s helping you out. I forget which.’ He sits up and faces forward, holding both photos in front of him now. ‘Saw the pictures of you ice skating, by the way,’ he adds.
‘Any comments?’
‘On Twitter? Just the usual.’
‘I mean from the rest of you.’
‘Oh. No, not really. They’re both too wrapped up with their own girlfriends to be worrying about yours,’ Harry says, eyebrow raised.
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ I say it forcefully. Maybe too forcefully. I have to. I don’t want to complicate this any further.
Harry looks up. ‘Are you seriously telling me you haven’t even thought about fucking her?’
I frown, annoyed. ‘Don’t speak about her like that,’ I say, trying to suppress the image of her threatening to fill my mind. ‘And I’m seriously asking if you’ll at least speak to Shelly.’
Harry grins, knowing he’s getting under my skin. Then his face is serious again. ‘Was this Lexi’s idea?’ he asks, handing back one of the photographs. The wide shot of some band on stage.
‘No,’ I say, taking it. ‘She has no idea. She seems set on teaching.’
‘Maybe because it’s what she really wants?’ Harry says, leaning back again.
‘It’s not.’ I bristle. ‘Why so many questions?’
Harry studies the close-up shot of the bumblebee in his hand. ‘It’s just—’
Knocking at the front door, a few metres behind us, interrupts him.
Harry pauses for a second, perplexion on his face.
Then the doorbell chimes too, loud and high-pitched. ‘Really need to fix that,’ he grumbles as he stands up. He hands the photo back to me. ‘I just don’t want to see you in another Hayley situation. And so fucking soon.’
‘We broke up nearly five months ago.’
Harry’s already heading for the front door, before the person waiting on the other side presses the bell again. ‘Four months,’ he corrects me over his shoulder.
‘Whatever,’ I mutter, sinking back. ‘And she wasn’t so bad.’
‘She was so bad that you’ve hired a fake girlfriend to make her go away.’ He unlocks the door. ‘Your words,’ he reminds me, looking back with a raised eyebrow.
I face forward again, looking at the two photos in my hands.
Behind me, the door creaks slightly as Harry opens it. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’
I instinctively look back in Harry’s direction. But whatever caused his reaction is hidden by his frame.
‘Hello Harry,’ says a familiar voice from outside. ‘So nice to see you too.’ A flutter of long blonde hair confirms it.
Hayley.
‘WHAT ARE YOU doing here?’ Harry demands.
‘I came to see my beloved.’
Harry crosses his arms, his back still to me. ‘Your “beloved”?’ Harry snorts.
I sigh inwardly and stand.
‘I know he’s here! Let me in.’
Harry continues to block the entrance. ‘Why don’t you just try phoning him?’
‘I have! He’s not responding.’
‘Yeah, maybe because he doesn’t want to see you.’
I walk towards Harry and Hayley’s face comes into view, long hair pulled back into an impossibly tight ponytail, eyes darting towards me.
‘See!’ she cries triumphantly, pointing in my direction.
Harry steps back slightly and looks at me.
‘It’s fine,’ I say to him, giving him an I-can-handle-this look. He doesn’t look convinced but backs away regardless, grabbing his phone from the sofa before heading for the stairs.
Once he’s gone I turn back to Hayley, already walking into the house with neither invitation nor hesitation.
‘Luc,’ she says, sitting down on the sofa where Harry and I were sat moments before. ‘Honey.’ She puts her patent leather bag down next to her. ‘I’m sure you know why I’m here.’
‘Not really.’ Well, I’ve got an inkling. She probably saw more photos of me with Lexi. But that doesn’t tell me what she wants.
I run my hand through my hair and sit tentatively on a chair opposite her. Separated by a wide coffee table, she looks so tiny, her features harder than before.
‘Have you fucked her?’
Her forwardness takes me by surprise. ‘I…what?!’ Is this the new thing? Ask Luc if he’s fucked Lexi?
‘I saw the pictures. Deena and Staci’—her bitchy friends—‘told me all about what they saw that night you were in town with her.’ She spits the word out like it’s poison in her mouth.
‘She has a name,’ I say, somehow maintaining my calm.
‘Yes. Whore. Slut. That fucking bitch trying to get on my boyfriend. Her!’ Her voice wavers on the edge of hysteria.
I take a long, slow breath. Control. Calm. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want her to use Lexi’s name. ‘Don’t, Hayley. Don’t you fucking dare speak about her. At all.’
Hayley snorts. ‘I’ll say whatever the fuck I want.’ She reaches into her bag and pulls out a handful of magazines and newspaper clippings, tossing them on the coffee table between us.
I lean forward, trying to make sense of the clutter she’s piling up between us. ‘What’s all this? Have you lost your mind?’
She glares at me. I briefly wonder if she always wore quite so much lipstick. ‘According to my sources, such as these’—she indicates the magazines and clippings—‘and my friends who’ve actually seen some of this in person, you haven’t even kissed that lanky tart.’
‘What did I just fucking say abou—’
‘Meaning,’ she interrupts, raising her voice slightly, ‘you’re not dating her.’ Hayley folds her arms and crosses one leg over the other, sitting back. A smug almost-smile plays on her lips. ‘So what’s going on, Luc? Trying to make me jealous? Trying to win me back?’
‘No,’ I say truthfully, holding her gaze.
She laughs. ‘Luc. Enough with the games. I’m right here, baby. You’ve played the whole thing beautifully. I’m more than ready to pick up where we left off this summer,’ she says, unfolding her arms and smiling.
I narrow my eyes. ‘Now why would I want to do that when I’m already seeing someone else?’
That tinkly fucking laugh again. ‘You can stop pretending. Your plan was perfect. Right in time for Christmas.’ She re
sts her hands in her lap. ‘A Christmas reunion and a New Year engagement. I couldn’t have planned it better myself.’
She’s lost her mind. She’s actually lost her mind.
‘Hayley,’ I say firmly, ‘I’m with Lexi now. Lexi’s my girlfriend. I’m happy with her.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t even kissed her. You’re just annoyed that I’ve figured out your little game.’ She leans forward. ‘It’s OK, Luc. I’m not angry. I’m actually rather pleased.’ Another laugh. I really fucking hate that stupid laugh. I’m trying really hard not to lose every last shred of affection I had for her, but she’s not making it easy.
‘I’m with Lexi now,’ I repeat, hoping that if I just keep saying it it’ll finally sink in.
‘For now, yes. But you still love me.’
‘No! No, Hayley. I don’t.’ I feel a bit bad, saying the words out loud. Even if she is acting a bit deranged. I don’t want to actually hurt her, but this is getting ridiculous. For a moment I’m tempted to admit that, yes, it’s a game, but one meant to get rid of her, not make her think I’m playing hard to get or something.
Hayley rolls her eyes. ‘Right. Of course you don’t.’ She stands up and brushes herself down, picking up her bag.
‘Right,’ I say slowly. Is that it? Has she actually given up, just like that? I want to ask outright but I don’t want to push my luck. ‘So is that it?’ I try anyway, non-committally.
‘Yes, of course,’ she says, smiling.
‘I…uh, OK.’ I rub the back of my head, not really knowing what to say now. This is strange. Sudden. ‘What about your stuff?’ I try, indicating to the mound of paper on the coffee table.
‘Oh,’ she says, waving her hand dismissively, ‘you can have that.’
‘Why would I want it?’
‘Well I’ve got more copies at home,’ Hayley smiles. Then she suddenly slides her arms around my waist and presses herself against me. I frown, not engaging, not sure what’s happening.
‘Hayley, I—’
‘I love the way you stay in character,’ she says, lowering her voice and biting her lip, looking up at me. She definitely didn’t used to wear so much make-up.
‘I’m not in character,’ I reply, annoyed. ‘What are you doing?’
