Page 66 of Yearning Difficulties

‘Red.’

I made a noise of frustration and shoved at his chest. Unfortunately for me, he was as solid as stone and he didn’t move. And I suddenly remembered how it felt to be wrapped all around him.

The Tom Waits track ended and ‘Ghost’ by Indigo Girls started to play. We both flinched at the sound of it.

‘Our song,’ Killian said unnecessarily.

I didn’t tell him that I listened to it multiple times a day.

‘I should say thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘For yesterday.’

He gave me a steely look. ‘You could have unblocked my number and answered my calls and texts.’

I was about to snap a retort but then I took in the exhaustion in his face. I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t sleeping. He looked bone-tired.

My studying of him brought his guard down a little and he gave me a tentative look. His eyes scanned my face and body and I knew he was checking me over for any sign of injury.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, as if unable to help himself. ‘You didn’t hit your head too hard?’

‘No.’

He puffed out a sigh of relief. ‘Good.’

I stepped inside, brushing by his body with a closeness that made both of us hold our breath. His room was enormous, and it was surprisingly tidy. There were no clothes or anything lying around. I spotted a record player and a vinyl case full of music over by the bay window. The walls were covered with prints from different artists. The only thing in the bedroom that didn’t seem organized and neat was the large bookshelf that was up against the wall opposite his double bed. The books were haphazardly shelved, as if he was constantly pulling them out to check something. There was no rhyme nor reason to their positions on the shelf. But it was a diverse and clearly well-thumbed collection.

The thunder growled and the lightning flashed while I looked over his books.

‘Do your parents know you’re here?’

I glanced over at him. ‘No. But I’m eighteen. Shockingly, that means I’m allowed out of the house without a chaperone.’

He smiled sadly. ‘I know. Your birthday’s in June. Your boyfriend forgot all about it and then brought you those hideous balloons at school. Three days too late.’

I stared at him. ‘Why on earth do you remember that?’

His eyes darted away and he started fiddling with a copy of Orlando by Virginia Woolf. ‘Not sure, just do.’

I was suddenly aware that I’d never been alone in a boy’s bedroom. Dave had never brought me to his and I’d never wanted to go. I’d also never invited him over to mine. Maybe, on some deeper level, both of us knew there was an element of farce to what we were and we didn’t want our families to sense it.

Strange that my relationship with Killian was the true charade and yet it had felt the closest to something real.

I glanced over at his bedside table and noticed a pile of books next to a yellow pad of paper. He’d clearly been drafting an essay for English Lit when I broke in. There was also a large sketchbook with a Post-it note on the front cover. As I moved nearer, I saw that it said ‘Call Claire’.

I felt a stab of something ugly, something I had absolutely no right to feel.

But I couldn’t kill it entirely.

‘Moving on quickly then?’

He glowered at me from the other side of the room. ‘Not anyone’s business.’

‘Is she Mystery Girl?’

I was genuinely curious. I’d been thinking more and more about the girl who had him all tied up in knots.

When he didn’t answer, I turned back to look at him and he gave an awkward little shrug.

Right. Claire was Mystery Girl then.