I pull away from him. ‘Will, please.’
‘You just have to tell me once that you genuinely want Valentine and not Charlie and I won’t say another word about it.’
When I don’t answer, Will raises an eyebrow. ‘Thought as much.’
‘You’ve got no idea how complicated it is. Sinclair’s into Eleanor.’
‘Everyone’s kind of into Eleanor.’
‘Very funny.’
‘No, seriously. She’s class. But Charlie doesn’t look at her the way he looks at you.’
‘We’re best friends.’ I’m so sick of those words. Because, if I’m truly honest with myself, Will’s right. And my brother’s the only person I feel I can be completely open with about this stuff. So I close my eyes and just say it. ‘If I take the first step and he doesn’t feel the same way, things will be awkward between us for ever.’
‘So would you say it’s not awkward between you just now?’
I hate my brother. I really do hate him.
He smiles knowingly. ‘Come on, Tori. Be brave. You don’t have to wait for him to take the initiative.’
I wrap my arms around my knees and sink my head onto them. ‘But I’m scared.’
‘What of?’
Same game as just now.Shut your eyes. Tell the truth.
‘Of being rejected.’
‘Which is a perfectly understandable fear.’
‘Fantastic, thanks, Will.’
‘But fear is good. Fear means that you care. And that means you’re in love with Charles Sinclair.’
‘But he’s not in love with me.’
‘You can’t know that if you don’t ask him.’
‘No way am I asking him. You don’t understand, I’d make a right eejit of myself. I’m meant to be joining the theatre group too, to help write this play. Fab, huh?’
‘Really?’ Will raises his eyebrows. ‘Cool, Tori.’
‘Yeah, so cool.’
‘You can’t change Juliet kissing the poison off his lips, I guess, but you’ll have a say in how it happens, if you see what I mean.’ Will leaves a significant pause. Typical Gemini ascendant . . . They don’t usually come across strongly, but when they do, it’s in this downright manipulative way.
‘Are you encouraging me to be a bad feminist?’
‘No, of course not. But this play is pretty problematic anyway, isn’t it? I mean, with all due respect to Shakespeare, it really is time for a bit less toxic masculinity. If you work on the script, I’m seriously hoping it can be modern yet romantic at the same time. And I bet our good friend Charlie would notice that too.’
As if Sinclair would ever notice anything . . .
But, OK, what my brother’s saying is indeed a possibility I hadn’t considered before. If I was in the scriptwriting club, I’d be right there at the source. Maybe I wouldn’t have such a feeling of watching powerlessly as Eleanor and Sinclair get it together. Hey, I could help them along . . . Great. But anything feels better than sitting around uselessly in my room while they’re rehearsing behind closed doors so that all I can do is guess at what’s happening on the stage.
‘So, if you were me, would you do it?’ I ask slowly.
‘Tori, I can’t tell you what to do or it’ll be all my fault if it goes wrong.’
