I didn’t know where I was going. I hadn’t been paying attention when we came in. So I just walked. I swear to God there were kids everywhere. Literally everywhere. Like the worst kind of infestation. A ball came out of nowhere and hit me on the side of the chest.
‘Do you mind?’ I shouted and kept walking.
‘Pardon,’ a tiny French voice called, but I didn’t look at who it came from because I knew they’d be cute, and I’d feel even worse. I was just in such a constant rage these days that not even adorable small people could get me out of it.
I kept walking in the blistering heat until I reached a restaurant/bar thing with red-and-white chequered cloths on the tables.
I sat down under one of the umbrellas and looked around. Everyone was about ten years younger than me or thirty years older. What was I supposed to do here for four weeks? I picked chipped black nail varnish from my fingers and stared at the drinks menu. I went over and over it in my head. What Theo had said. Ari’s message. Was there something between them?
‘Vous avez choisi?’ a voice said. I looked up, over my glasses, to see a man standing there. No, not a man; a boy, my age, in a white shirt and black trousers. His hair was fair and wavy, and his eyes were light brown, with flecks of gold that had been missing from Theo’s. I thought about taking off my sunglasses to look at him properly, but then he’d see my red eyes.
‘Vous avez choisi?’ he repeated, this time with a smile. The most perfect smile, which drew my eyes to his razor-sharp jawline.
‘Sorry,je ne comprends pas,’ I said, even though I kind of didcomprends. I’d just done my A-level French exam. And even though the mark would definitely be shite, I’d loved it up until a year ago.
‘You have chosen what you would like?’ he said in English with that smile, and thataccent. I tried not to keep looking at him and look at the menu instead, but it was hard. His shirtwas fitted so you could see the outline of his biceps, square shoulders … that jaw.
‘Vin rouge, s’il vous plait,’ I said, hoping he wouldn’t call me out, as if he could possibly know that I didn’t even like or know anything about red wine. It was just easy to say in French.
‘Bien sûr,’ he smiled, and his eyes twinkled. I watched him walk away.
My phone buzzed and there was a message from Ella, some girl in my year at school. Why wassheSnapping me?
I opened it and there she was, with Kylie, peace signs and tongues out. Must have been a mistake. I put the phone down on the table, but something made me pick it up again.
And I wish I hadn’t.
I looked more closely at the photo this time. Theo was there, in the background, sitting on someone’s couch with Ari sprawled on top of him in a tiny pair of shorts and a backless top.
I turned my phone off and put it face down on the table, then I clamped my hand over my mouth in case the bile that was churning in my stomach somehow made its way up my throat and on to the chequered tablecloth.
Then the tears started again. And I couldn’t stop them.
4
When I saw that photo of Theo and Ari, it was like all my worst nightmares were being played out right in front of me. And what shocked me the most was that the intensity of the nausea wasn’t just about Theo. Or Ari.
I wasn’tjustseething with jealousy that Ari had taken my boyfriend. The worst thing was that I felt stupid. And Ihatedfeeling stupid. I kept getting flashbacks of so many other times we’d hung out. Other parties when Ari and Theo would be whispering about something. Were they wishing I’d leave so they could be alone? And the amount of time theywerealone. I tried to force myself to stop thinking about it, but every single thought led back to them and the mess that was my life. I scrolled to our WhatsApp group messages, my hands shaking with rage. Me, Ari and Theo.
ME: Well, Ella’s Snap was a fun way to find out. Really classy doing it where everyone could see. Thanks for the heads up …
I posted a screenshot of Ella’s message and watched as the ticks turned blue. Both of them had read it. I stared at the screen, waiting for someone to reply. But there was nothing. Not even any typing, and no private messages either. And just like that, I’d made myself feel even worse.
Almost without thinking, I scrolled to my last message from Priya. About a year ago, she’d sent me message after message, trying to convince me to come back to swimming. Until one day, the messages just stopped. Suddenly, I missed her. The way she smiled so much, making everything bad feel like it wasn’t the end of the world.
I took off my sunglasses and squeezed my palms into my eye sockets, willing the tears to go away, because crying in public, alone, was almost as bad as feeling stupid. I took a deep breath and twisted an escapee blonde wave in my fingers. I glanced around at the couples, the families, speaking French, English, Dutch and wondered how they could all look so happy. It reminded me of Mum, Dad, Wren and Rue, how from the outside they just looked like this perfect little family. Wren and Rue with their blonde curls and the way Mum and Dad laughed so easily with them, playing games and talking about the future. And then there was me. I looked like I should fit. Long legs, blue eyes, blonde curls, just like them. But I didn’t. I was the spare part that thought she was happy until Theo threw a grenade. I picked more nail varnish.
‘Vin rouge?’
I glanced up to see the waiter looking down at me with a smile. I hid my messy nails under the table and his expression changed to concern as he studied my face.
‘You are OK?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, looking away. Despite how good-looking he was, I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I just wanted him to go away.
But he wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Can I?’ He motioned to the chair opposite me and set the glass of wine on the table.
I shrugged as he sat down.
