Nothing that’s happened in the last week makes any sense. But at the same time, it feels like this thing between Henry and me was meant to be, exactly as it is. As if, no matter how hard I fight, the next step has been obvious for ages.
Maybe Noah had to dump me. Maybe I had to rush into deciding to spend a year abroad. Maybe I had to dash for the airport just in the nick of time, and maybe I had to run bang into Henry. Maybe.
I don’t believe in fate—everything that happens to me hurts too much for that. Everything happens for a reason? But what reason should there be for my best friend getting with my ex, and my dad being long gone? What the hell kind of stupid deeper meaning can there be in him not giving a crap about me? I don’t want to know. I just want to look him in the eye and find out if there’s anything left. Or if he feels bad about it, at least. Or if I don’t matter enough to him even for that.
I have to get some sleep.
I’m just putting my phone aside when the screen lights up.
H:Open your door
For a moment, I stare at the message.
Typo? Autocorrect? Did he mean that?
Before I can ask, he messages again.
H:Seriously, Emma. If Ms.Barnett catches me in your corridor, I’m dead!
I jump up. I hope he’s not being serious.
I glance down at myself. Before I have time to wonder if my shorts and baggy sleepshirt are excruciatingly cringy, there’s a barely audible knock on the door.
Oh, for God’s sake, he was being serious.
I chuck my phone onto my bed and flit over to the door. I’ve barely opened it a crack when Henry’s pushed his way into my room. He presses his finger warningly to his lips, at least until I’ve shut the door again. Now he finally exhales.
“Hi.”
God, what’s he doing here? And why is he so gorgeous? Why are his eyes kind of sleepy and his hair even more messed up than normal? Why? It’s just not fair of him.
“Hello,” I whisper, and a tiny smile plucks at the corners of his lips. “What are you doing here?”
“Fulfilling my responsibilities,” he says.
“Breaking all the rules and putting us at risk of major stress?”
“Whatever,” he declares, as if it really doesn’t matter. “You’re sad and I’m your school captain.”
Suddenly I can’t move. I should’ve pretended that everything was fine earlier. But what did I do instead? WhatsApped him for so long that he clearly felt the need to come and check on me.
“I’m not...” I begin.
But Henry takes a step toward me, and I fall silent. “Emma.”
“What?” I whisper.
“Want to go for a nighttime walk and tell me everything without having to look at me?” he asks, and in fact, that’s exactly what I want. Apart from the not-looking-at-him part. Because that’s exactly what I’m doing, and it doesn’t feel like I’ll be able to stop any time soon. Not when he’s standing in front of me like this and the warm light of my bedside lamp is shining on his face.
I shake my head.
“Are you sure?”
“No, you’re too tired,” I say.
For a fraction of a second, something flickers in his eyes. “I’m not—” he begins.
“Don’t lie to me,” I whisper. “You need sleep, Henry.”And you have to go. You can’t be in my room, looking at me like this.But I don’t say that. I just stand there facing him, wanting to do so many things that I’d hate myself for tomorrow.
