Chapter 1
I don’t belong here
I don’t belong here.
It’s the story of my life, really. Wherever I am, whoever I’m with, I feel out of place, like I’m in the way. No one actually wants me around; they’re just good people who feel obliged to talk to me, but I know they’d rather I left so they could relax and enjoy themselves.
So here I am, grabbing my keys and cardigan after only an hour at Ivy’s. Though I wish I could stay at my best friend’s house longer, I don’t want to outstay my welcome, despite her protests.
“Oh, come on, Tilly, you’ve only been here an hour! I’m ordering a takeaway for me and Connor in a bit, you should join us.”
Takeaway food? Absolutely not. I already over-indulged this week when I had that chocolate biscuit in the staff room. But more than not wanting to ruin my diet, the thought of spending the evening with Connor Wilson gives me the ick.
Ivy and her older brother live together after jointly inheriting their family home when their parents died, five years ago. Which means that whenever I go to visit Ivy, I generally end up bumping into Connor.
Since Ivy and I have been friends since primary school, I’ve spent most of my life dodging Connor’s hateful glares and teasing comments. Fortunately, I already give myself enough shit that there’s no room for Connor’s words in my brain, so they don’t affect me as much as they used to. But that doesn’t mean I want to be around him.
“I’d love to, but I promised Rhys I’d be home in time to watch a film together.”
I have not, in fact, promised Rhys we’ll watch a film together, but it makes for an easy excuse. I feign disappointment for Ivy’s sake. Though Connor and I are never friendly towards each other, Ivy’s always thought it was just good-natured bantering rather than Connor being a prick. I don’t want to burst her bubble about the brother she idolises, so I go along with it.
“You know what he’s like,” I say, taking my mug into the kitchen to wash before I leave. “He’s a man-child. He’ll sulk if I’m too late.”
“He’s a grown-ass man,” Ivy grumbles. “He can cope without you for a couple of hours.”
“I know, but I promised him.”
Ivy sighs and leans her hip against the counter while I wash up the rest of the dishes in the bowl.
“You don’t have to earn your keep when you come over, you know,” she teases.
This is what I do each visit, and she’s long-since given up trying to stop me. I always make sure to wash my own cup so she doesn’t feel like she’s cleaning up after me, and I clean any strays I find at the same time, for good measure. Depending on how long I’m here, I sometimes fold some washing or somethingtoo. The thought of being a burden to Ivy is too much to bear, so I overcompensate so she’ll think it might be worth having me around after all.
“I know,” I answer simply. I rinse the bubbles out of the bowl, dry my hands on the tea towel Ivy holds out for me, and pick up my keys. “Thanks for having me over.” I lean into Ivy’s outstretched arms and give my best friend a hug, as we have done since we were little.
“Put her down, Ivy, you don’t know where she’s been.”
The deep voice coming from the doorway makes my stomach drop. I thought I’d gotten away with not seeing him this visit, but apparently luck isn’t on my side today.
“That wasn’t funny the first time you said it, or the hundreds of times you’ve said it since,” I say with a roll of my eyes. Nonetheless, I let Ivy go, and move towards the door.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m hilarious. You just don’t have a sense of humour.” Connor crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe – but when I stop a few feet short of him, his eyes flick briefly to mine, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll push past him. Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it. His jaw tightens, and he stays where he is, blocking the way.
“I need to get through,” I say, pointing towards the sliver of space between his hip and the wooden frame.
He shrugs, eyeing the space next to him. “Go ahead.”
The words sound casual, but there’s a flicker of something – confusion? – like he genuinely doesn’t realise how narrow the space is until I stare at it.
Sighing, I look to Ivy pleadingly, hoping she’ll intervene and make him move, but she just watches us with amusement.
“I can’t fit through that space, and you know it,” I mumble through gritted teeth. Not since Year 8 have I felt comfortable squeezing past people. Too many whispered comments echo in my mind at the thought.
Connor’s eyebrows furrow as he looks again at the gap, then at me, not lingering the way I expect, more like he’s realising too late that he’s misjudged something. He looks away sharply, colour climbing his cheeks, before he forces his expression back to neutral.
“I’m comfy here. If you want to leave, you’ll have to go past me.”
Stubborn ass.
