This whole evening feels like a crazy fever dream. I’m exhausted from crying, from feeling. But none of that matters now. It’s warm, it’s lovely, it doesn’t matter where I am, because Henry’s lying next to me, holding me, like everything is definitely, definitely going to turn out OK.
16
Henry
No.No...
Not yet, please. It can’t be morning already, I’ve hardly slept twelve seconds, and I hate my alarm. I hate it. I hate it for going off, because it’s so lovely and warm in this bed, and my body feels as heavy as lead. I hate the fact that I’m going to have to get up in a moment, brush my teeth, and put on my PE kit. Maybe it’ll rain and the morning run will be called off, maybe...
I realize too late that the alarm has stopped and that something’s moving beside me. I really couldn’t care less. My head empties again, the quiet, it’s all so nice, and I jump as I hear someone knocking. Much harder than normal, and it’s not Mr.Acevedo’s voice. It’s a woman. I open my eyes fully and my blood runs cold.
“Time to get up, Emma.”
Shit... A strip of light falls into the room around the door. A moment later, it goes dark again as Emma pulls the duvet over me.
“Morning run in twenty minutes.” Ms.Barnett’s voice reaches me, muffled by the layers of fabric, and I don’t dare breathe. Ifeel Emma beside me, pushing herself up onto her elbows and nodding.
“Yes.” Her voice sounds rough, her warm, soft body is touching mine, her sleepshirt’s ridden up a little over her hips, and I bite my bottom lip, hard enough for it to hurt, but none of that’s any use as all my blood rushes between my legs.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...Think about the morning run, Bennington. Cold, drizzle, fog. Misery.Although not when Emma’s running beside me, getting those red cheeks, and her hair all frizzed up by the rain and... Fucking shit.
The door is shut again, and at that moment, Emma exhales audibly. I slide a little away from her and pray she didn’t feel anything. She pulls the duvet back slightly, and her eyes are still small and tired, but now there’s a hint of panic in them.
“Hi,” she whispers, and I want to kiss her. Her soft pink lips. That’s really all I want to do at this moment, and I can’t for so many different reasons.
“I should—” I begin.
Emma nods. “Yes,” she says at the same time, without looking away. I want to run my hand through her pale-blond hair while she grabs hold of mine—and, God, what have we done? Why did I forget I was here and that I’d been intending to slip back to my own room before half past six if at all possible? So that nobody would notice where I was. In the girls’ wing. In Emma’s bed. While Grace is at home, in her own bed, and holy shit, I’m so dead.
I straighten and something flickers in Emma’s eyes as I get to my feet. Her gaze runs over my body. She looks so little and vulnerable, and I have to go.
“Sorry,” I mumble and turn away.
My pulse is racing, but I’m in luck: I don’t bump into anyone. The sky is overcast and gray. I just about make it across the courtyard to my wing before the first raindrops fall. So much for the morning run. In a matter of seconds, the light drizzle turns into hammering rain, which drowns out my hurried footsteps on the stairs. The noise of it still hasn’t stopped by the time I get up to my floor. Just four more doors to my room. Just three, just two...
“Henry?”
I freeze.
No.
Shit.
I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and then, in slow motion, I turn around.
Mr.Acevedo’s floor-length dressing gown trails behind him as he comes toward me. He pulls it around himself and eyes me critically. I can’t think of anyone who is less of a fan of early rising than our houseparent seems to be.
“Morning run’s off. Go back to bed,” he says, and relief floods through me.
“Yes, sir,” I mumble hastily. I’m about to turn away when he continues.
“Hold on a moment...” He comes a step closer. “Have you come from outside? Have you already been out running with your little friend from the west wing?”
I thank myself for having had the sense to put on running shoes, a hoodie, and joggers before I went over to Emma’s yesterday. I clear my throat. “Yes. It wasn’t raining till just now.”
“Got in just in time, then,” says Mr.Acevedo, pointing to my room. “Better go and have a shower.”
I nod and turn away.
