‘Don’t need it,’ mumbles Sinclair. He shifts half a centimetre to the side, and his body is heavy next to mine. I keep my promises, so I roll up next to him and put an arm around him. He immediately grabs my wrist and hugs it to his chest.
‘Feel sick?’ I ask, as he groans quietly.
‘Dunno . . . The bed’s moving.’
I hold him tighter. ‘You sleep now. I’m here if anything happens.’
‘Victoria,’ he mumbles after a while. He’s so drunk. He never uses my full name.
‘Charles?’ And I never call him by his. It feels strange on my lips. Exciting, but not unpleasant. Nobody at this school calls him that. Well, apart from his mum and the teachers. But it sounds kind of soft. Charles. Charlie. Hmm . . .
He sighs and sinks more heavily into me. ‘You smell nice.’
My belly starts to tingle treacherously. ‘I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same of you tonight.’
‘Should I shower?’ He tries to pull away but gives up after precisely four seconds. His muscles soften as he falls back into my arms.
‘No, I don’t need any more drama if you collapse in the bathroom.’
‘I won’t collapse.’
‘You could hardly sit.’
‘It’s not spinning so badly now.’
‘Wait till you shut your eyes.’
He groans hideously – he must have done just that.
I lift my chin a little. Sinclair’s hair doesn’t smell of cigarettes. But that’s no surprise. Unlike Val, he didn’t spend the whole evening smoking with his pals.
Sinclair doesn’t speak. I shut my eyes. If I lean forwards a little, I could touch his hair with my nose . . .
‘Tori?’ Sinclair’s voice is quiet.
‘Yes?’
‘You’retoogoodforaguylikehim.’ Words like chewing gum, heavy tongue. Sinclair swallows the end of it, but I got the gist. Unfortunately.
I’m cold. I don’t move and I don’t reply. If I just ignore it, it’ll be like Sinclair never said that. He didn’t. It was just his brain fog. But they say drunks and small children always tell the truth.
Sinclair gives a tired sigh and the sound of it shoots straight between my legs. It’s a deep, relaxed sound. I feel the gentle tremor that runs through his body, as it always does when he falls asleep. His head sinks forwards. His hand doesn’t let go of mine.
Luckily for me, he can no longer hear my groans of frustration.
3
TORI
My phone is bursting with unread messages as I slip out of Sinclair’s room the next morning. He doesn’t wake as I climb over him and pull on a pair of his joggers. I avoid looking in his direction as I gather up my dress, Val’s jacket and my shoes. Then I shut the door behind me as quietly as possible.
The whole school is silent as I walk barefoot down the corridors. I reach the west wing unnoticed, open my door and perch on my bed. Then I read the messages.
V:Have you got my jacket?
V:Where even are you?
V:Eleanor says you left. Seriously?
