Her expression softened, as if she realised it had been gnawing at me.
‘I’m over Casey.’ Her gaze dropped, thumb picking at her nail.‘Don’t get me wrong, I was gutted when she left.But I don’t think…’ She paused, and I hung on every word.‘I don’t think I was honest – with her or myself.I don’t think I was as invested in that relationship as I could have been.’
Was that because of me?The thought flared – arrogant and a little tempting.I didn’t ask because, if I pushed, she’d bolt.But part of me hoped.
And then there was the way she kept dodging my gaze… only for her eyes to flick, almost involuntarily, to my arms, my chest.Yeah, I caught that.She knew I did, from the way her cheeks blushed.
‘Ren, we said we were just going to be friends.’ She kept her voice even.‘I know you think we can be more—’
‘Look, I’m not going to force you to see it my way.Particularly because it would be borderline creepy when we’re sharing a tent and you are just in a T-shirt.But let’s say this—’ my voice lowered.‘We can play it your way.But, Lydia, that means that next time you want me to kiss you – you’re going to have to ask me.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ she said.But her voice was softer now, like even she didn’t quite believe it.
I shrugged.‘We’ll see.In the meantime…’ I patted the sleeping bag, ‘Let’s go to sleep.’
I lay down, and she did the same, and I could tell she was holding herself stiff so we didn’t touch.I draped the sleeping bag over both of us, like a duvet.
Then her legs touched mine and she bolted upright.
‘We don’t have to share.I’ll be fine without.’
‘Lydia,’ I said gently.‘I told you.We’re just sleeping.And you’re not wearing anything on your legs.And as torturous as it is to know you’re only wearing my T-shirt and one of those tiny thongs – don’t interrupt me – I don’t want you to be cold.So let’s just… accept our fate, share the bloody sleeping bag, and sleep.We can both pretend this never happened in the morning.’
Something in my voice cracked at the end, a quiet ache I didn’t mean to let out.
‘Okay?’ I asked.
‘Okay.’
She curled in beside me, and I felt her breathing slowly.The rain outside softened and the silence inside thickened – comfortable, for once.Like an old rhythm, remembered.
I lay there, and wondered how many near misses with Lydia I’d have to endure.
Chapter Eighteen
Lydia’s Diary, 16 Years Old
Ren asked Lindsey Matthews to prom today.
And I hate how much it bothered me.
We’ve been spending more time together at school this year because we’re both taking GCSE PE.I swear, I’ll glance at him in class, and he’s already looking at me.Then there’s the little things – he sometimes carries my PE kit when he knows my English books are already weighing me down.
And then there’s the nights.
This year’s been hard for him.Pressure from school, missing his mum more than usual.Especially when he’s stressed.So every Friday he texts me.Can I come round?
At first, it was just chilling in the lounge with Mum and Dad.But then, the texts started coming later at night – his messages sounding heavier, sadder.
And I always say yes.
I tell him to come in the side door to keep it quiet from Mum and Dad.They’d go ballistic if they knew.At first he promised he’d stay until the film’s end and then sneak out.But the third time?The fourth?He fell asleep.We both did.I’d insist on a pillow wall between us, but somehow I’d wake up in the middle of the night, my head on his chest.
He’s taking Lindsey Matthews to prom.
But he sleeps in my bed.
That’s weird, right?
