“You’re not clingy,” I say. “Not at all.”
“I didn’t want you to leave me,” Ruby says.
I grab her and hug her properly, and she hugs me back, her arms tight around me.
“Ugh, I’m almost crying,” she says into my shoulder. “How gross.”
“It’s not gross,” I say, pulling away so I can grab tissues from the sink. Ruby taps them under her eyes. “Emotions aren’t as gross as I thought they were.”
Ruby chokes out a laugh. After she dries her eyes, she says, “you know, I get it if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore. I sound psycho.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, giving her another hug. “Haven’t you heard how psycho I am?”
32
Noah: Confess
I try to enjoy dancing with my friends. I put on a smile and nod my head to the beat of the music and pretend this is fun. Under other circumstances, it would be, but Henry is less than a metre away from me, and we’re stuck in a weird staring contest as our friends gyrate around us.
Is he going to say something or is he going to throw a punch? I look away, but my eyes always find my way back to his.
In the end, I leave for the table. I take my jacket off and rest it on the back of my chair, grateful to cool down. Eve’s not here, and she’s not on the dance floor either. I check the balcony area through the windows, but it’s empty but for a couple taking photos.
She must still be in the bathroom. Is something wrong? As if I’ve summoned her, she steps out through the bathroom doors, talking with someone. Ruby.
Eve catches my eye and I wave at her. She waves back, and her eyes raise at something behind me.
I turn, and — oh.
Henry’s returning to the table.
Henry in the pool. Us in the pool house. In my bedroom. In the sports shed. In the change rooms. Memories spread before my eyes, painful, but the way pressing on a bruise hurts. There’s masochistic pleasure in the act.
He meets my eyes. Does he know what I’m thinking about? Does he hate me for it?
I look away and see Eve sitting at Ruby’s table. They talk with their heads close, Eve’s expression the same as the one she wore this afternoon in her living room.
The whisper of fabric makes me look up, and Henry is beside me, putting his jacket on Declan’s seat. He sits down.
Neither of us says a word. After a moment, he leans over to retrieve his glass and fills it up with water. He gestures to my own.
“Thanks.” My voice is raspy.
He fills it.
Words fill my mouth, and I can’t decide whether to say them. If I don’t, and I never speak to Henry again, I’ll always regret it.
All I can do is my best. All I can do is be honest.
I wet my lips. “I need to tell you something.”
He looks around to make sure that no one’s in earshot. “Okay.”
“I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I have to tell you.”
His throat bobs.
“You are my best friend.Were. Whatever.” My cheeks heat. “The point is, this might be my last chance to tell you something. Something you already know, and it might make you hate me, more than you do already, but I’m going to tell you, anyway.”
