‘Or,’ Alice interjects, ‘I’m about to make a bold suggestion so bear with me, Oliver fucking Jenkins should be sorry for his existence and we should all be snout-deep into bacon sandwiches by now.’
‘Sure but I truly am sorry,’ I say again. ‘Really—’
‘No, you needed someone to listen and be there,’ Jenna interrupts. ‘I’m the arse.’
‘Argh, enough!’ Alice groans, before reaching for the paper bag. ‘Can we agree you both accept each other’s apologies and please can I have a bit of this cookie? I’m starving.’
I twist off the cover of the travel mug she placed in front of me and breathe in the venti mocha, my comfort drink and exactly what I would’ve ordered for myself. Alice breaks the cookie into three pieces and hands them out before devouring her chunk in one bite.
‘Have you spoken to the turd?’ she asks, hand over her full mouth.
‘Not yet. Do you think I should?’
‘I think you should kick him in the balls and turn his scrotum into a snood,’ she replies. ‘But that’s just me.’
‘You don’t have to take my side, he was your friend before I was.’
‘Was he though?’ Jenna tilts her head to one side and wrinklesher nose. ‘Or is he just someone we met in the first week and kept hanging around? Because if heisour friend, we need to tighten up our admissions process.’
‘Either way,’ Alice says, dusting off her hands. ‘I’m very happy to be done with him.’
Jenna nods. ‘Agreed. He’s nothing but proof that manic pixie dream girls come in all genders and we don’t need it.’
‘I’ll bet you any money he comes crawling back with a shitty apology,’ Alice adds. ‘Which I personally would decline and tell him to shove his head so far up his rectum he can see the back of his teeth, but obviously, whatever you decide to do is up to you. I know how much you like him.’
I take a long drink to avoid answering because in spite of everything, there is still part of me that wants him. Or wants him to want me.
Alice tucks her red hair behind her ears and gives a thoughtful sigh. ‘Did I ever tell you that when I got accepted to Hemden, I was so worried I wouldn’t fit in with all the posh kids.’
‘Like me,’ Jenna cuts in with a cheesy grin.
‘Exactly like you,’ Alice agrees. ‘But I convinced myself, if I had all the right stuff, if I looked like I belonged, I’d be okay. So, I opened a student bank account, got a credit card and spent a fortune. I genuinely thought I was going to be one of those girls, you know, lululemon, Parke sweatshirts, rhode lip balms, the whole bit.’
‘But I’ve never seen you wear that kind of stuff,’ I say, my hand curling around the rhode ribbon lip balm in my own pocket.
‘And you never will,’ she replies. ‘Because it’s not me. But it is who I thought I would become when I got here. Turns out the university you go to doesn’t change who you are, only how you see yourself.’
‘You’re saying Oliver is my lululemon?’
‘I’m saying coming here with some preconceived notions of what you want or need is completely understandable, we all did the same. But it might be worth reevaluating some of them before you make your next move.’
Jenna slurps her coffee and nods in agreement. ‘Unless your next move is punching him in the nuts, in which case we’re on board.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, bowing my head gravely. ‘For the cookie and the coffee and the wise counsel. And for the mental image of Oliver with his head up his own ass.’
‘Might be difficult to get off with him if you’re thinking about that.’ Alice pouts thoughtfully. ‘Now, can you please stop being so incredibly boffy and come out to play? You’re putting the rest of us to shame.’
I’m smiling, truly smiling, for the first time since Oliver stepped off stage.
‘I’d love to,’ I tell them as Alice swipes Jenna’s piece of the cookie and stuffs it in her mouth before her friend can protest, ‘but I really do have a lot of work to do. TheBleak Housepaper is due on Wednesday and I’m still not done. Oliver loaned me his notes but they’re not really helping.’ I leaf through the pages of notes covered in his elegant, looping handwriting. ‘To be honest, I’m not even sure he read the book.’
‘Don’t feel bad,’ Alice says, playing with the heart-shaped clasp of my bracelet. ‘We’ve all been had by a pretty face.’
‘And it is pretty,’ Jenna admits. ‘But we must be strong and learn to resist. There are other pretty faces that don’t come attached to such a twat, you know.’
And maybe I’ve been wrong about those too.
‘There’s a boat race at two,’ she says, planting a kiss on the top ofmy head. ‘We’ll be down by the boathouse. If you don’t come and find us, we’ll hunt you down like you’re in a Liam Neeson movie.’
