The others sigh too and laugh quietly.
“Shame Grace isn’t still here,” says Sinclair. “I’d love to check this with her.”
I’ve never found it so hard to keep smiling.
“Hasn’t anyone still got those photos from the Norway trip?” Olive asks. “They definitely fell asleep like that back then.”
Henry seems pretty uncomfortable with this whole thing because he ignores her and just asks the next question. I’m hearing the words, but I’m not really paying attention. Tori asks me if I’d rather be able to eat anything, no matter how spicy, or never burn my tongue on hot food again, so I pick the second choice, obviously. I feel Henry’s eyes on me as more questions are asked. He’s gently biting his bottom lip as he gazes at me, and I force myself not to keep thinking about it. And not to look at his mouth. He breaks off eye contact as soon as he notices I’m watching him too.
I don’t know how much later it is when the greenhouse eventually empties. Sinclair’s sitting between Tori’s knees on the floor next to one of the armchairs, and she’s massaging his shoulders while deep in a heated discussion with Olive and a few others about the unannounced maths tests that Mr.Ward apparently likes to dump on people.
When I look at the time, it’s later than I’d thought. My head is pounding a bit, my eyes are burning, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with everyone’s rapid English.
It may be a coincidence, or it may not, but at this exact moment, Henry looks at me. He eyes me, then nods questioningly at me.
I shrug, and even if I don’t quite understand what this nonverbal communication really means, it seems to work.
Sinclair cranes his neck to blink upward to Henry as he stands.
“I think I need to get some sleep,” Henry says. He glances at me, and I get up too.
“Me too.” I’m expecting some comment, someone to boo or say,Party poopers, like Noah or Isi would definitely have done, but nothing happens.
“Sleep well,” says Sinclair, leaning his head back against Tori’s knees again.
The others say goodbye to us too, and I avoid looking in Olive’s direction as I walk out of the door ahead of Henry.
Suddenly, this feels out of bounds. Because we’re alone out here, and I’d forgotten how dark it was. Maybe it’s just because I’m very tired, but it seems colder to me now. I shiver and dig my hands into my jacket pockets as we walk over the meadow. Damp grass tickles my ankles, the voices from the greenhousegrowing quieter with every meter. By the time we’ve reached the path, I can’t hear them at all.
This is all there is. The chirping crickets, Henry’s footsteps and mine on the gravel. And my heart, which is thumping loudly. Why aren’t we speaking? Do we have to keep quiet so that no one hears us?
“How tired are you?”
An owl hoots, cold air fills my lungs, and Henry really did just ask that.
“Why?” I can’t see more than his silhouette beside me as I turn my head toward him.
“I was just wondering... If you’re really tired, I’ll walk you right back to your wing. But if you’re not, we could take a little detour. There are some secret passages through the cellars under the school.” His eyes burn into me. “It’s really spooky though.”
I hardly dare breathe. “I like spooky.”
My eyes have gradually got used to the darkness, and I can see his smile now. “OK,” he says.
“OK,” I repeat. Then, “Or areyoutoo tired? You’re really tired, right?”
“I’m notthattired. Besides, you’re at a Scottish boarding school. We have to go on secret nighttime wanders—it’s part of the authentic experience.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to...”
“I’m sure,” he says, and I fall silent. “It’s through here.”
Henry takes my wrist and pulls me into an archway to our left. His touch is like a mini electric shock running through mywhole body. I don’t want him ever to let go—seriously, I mean it—but I’m afraid he doesn’t realize that.
This doorway is so inconspicuous that I’d probably have walked right past it. I follow Henry down the steps. It’s pitch black in here. Henry lets go and pulls out his phone. The places where his skin touched mine are prickling in a way that feels like both regret and desperately wanting more. A moment later, he’s using the torch mode to light our way.
We come to a door in dark wood with solid metal fittings. It looks locked. Henry starts to rattle at the latch. Very loudly, to be honest. Automatically, I hold my breath and glance back over my shoulder. A moment later, I hear a squeak, and Henry pushes the door open.
“Are you sure this isn’t against the rules?” I whisper before I follow him. It smells kind of musty down here, but not exactly unpleasant.
