by Bankes, Liz
“Hey.”
I jump violently and nearly drop my plates.
“Whoa, sorry,” says Dan, and takes some of them off me. “What’s going on?”
“He’s my ex. He … We …” I trail off. I can’t work out whether I’m delighted or severely panicked by all of this.
“Yeah, he went to my school,” Dan says, and then lowers his head nearer to mine. “Not a nice guy.”
He knows, then.
I look away from him. With Dan it’s all easy conversation and banter and making fun of each other. Right now it’s like he’s seeing behind it all, seeing deeper. If I meet his eye, then I’m telling him something real about me. For a moment, I get that familiar anger when people know things about me that I can’t control.
I told Cleo, though. I know her even less than I know Dan. But I just wanted her to think I was interesting. I want Dan to think I’m put together and confident and don’t make mistakes. It’s like I can put up these screens and show people what I want them to see, but then they wobble and I know that eventually they’ll come crashing down and everyone will see what’s behind. Just me.
I look into Dan’s eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he says and looks around to make sure Julia’s not in sight. Then he kisses me on the lips, and I sink in to him for a second. We move apart and I smile at him, but only one thought is hammering at my brain.
What was Jamie up to?
Chapter 18
The week leading up to Dezzie’s birthday is punctuated by people in the courtyard measuring things and Julia saying things like, “The replica night sky will go there,” but other than that, things at Radleigh Castle are pretty much the same.
Cleo comes to see me at the end of some of my shifts, which still makes me feel a bit disloyal to the other waiters, but I feel like I owe her after the Kieran incident. I tried to thank her but she just waved my words away, and I didn’t mention it after that.
Gabi said that the news got around pretty quickly and Kieran was getting lots of flack. She knows what really happened, obviously, but she wasn’t as excited as I thought she’d be when I told her. She said, “Oh. So why did she do that for you?”
I didn’t really have an answer for that. I said that maybe Cleo just liked me.
Gabi said, “Well, you did make out with her.”
There was a tense silence before she slipped back into normal Gabi chat mode. She’s clearly a little grumpy that I’m making new friends.
On a couple of occasions Jamie has come in with Cleo, and I’ve watched him for any sign of what he might have said to Kieran. But he doesn’t seem to be acting any differently around me. Maybe it was nothing. Just a random conversation. Once he saw me watching and we looked at each other for a moment. I still get that nervous feeling when he does that. Cleo interrupted and my attention went back to her. But I could still feel Jamie’s gaze on me.
The shifts are kept fun by whatever silly games we think up to play, and we hear pieces of gossip from the pool house, where the games have far more serious consequences—for the losers, anyway. Jamie got some guy to gamble away a large chunk of his parents’ money on online poker. And they started a rumor that some local landowner had an overly friendly relationship with his dogs.
One night Jamie, his friend Freddie, Cleo, and her friends Nish and Effy come in for a meal. Their raucous conversation, emphasized by Effy’s loud, dirty laugh, keeps me far more entertained than the forced politeness of many of the guests. I get invited to join them after my shift. At first I’m reluctant, but it’s hard to say no to Cleo, and Jamie pours me a drink and points to the seat next to him. I sip my drink and feel shy and boring next to the loudness. Cleo holds the attention of the table expertly, and the others pipe up with funny comments. I feel like I’m at a tennis match as I turn from person to person and watch the words fly back and forth. Suddenly Freddie turns to me.
“Is this one a mute?” he drawls.
I feel the redness creep over my cheeks.
Jamie jumps in, a tinge of annoyance to his voice. “I expect she’s bored stiff by your incessant talk about your father’s money.”
Freddie laughs, but eyes Jamie warily.
“Anyway …,” says Cleo, and the conversation starts up again.
Jamie turns to me and speaks quietly, so as not to get the attention of the whole table.
“So. Mia. How’s your mother?”
I lean in toward him. “Are you attempting small talk again?”
He smiles. “I am.”
This warmth between us isn’t something I’ve ever felt talking to Jamie. And I’m sure he’ll ruin it by saying something obnoxious. But for now I’m happy to sit here, talking quietly against the backdrop of shrieks and laughter.
Dan’s parents have gone away on vacation, so the night before he goes off on his mountain-biking trip, he has people over. He told me I could bring people too, so I went on Facebook for the first time in about two weeks and invited Gabi and the girls and Max.
Dan’s friends introduce us to a game called Ring of Fire, in which a pack of cards is laid facedown in a ring and everyone takes turns picking one card. Each suit means a different type of dare or tells you how much of your drink you have to down. I get both mocked—for being unable to think of a single flavor of chips when someone chose a category card—and respected, if that’s the right word, for being surprisingly good at rapping. The girls note some potential hotties among Dan’s friends, and Ring of Fire soon dissolves into groups of people chatting and dancing.
I bump into Dan on the stairs.
“ARE YOU HAVING FUN?” he shouts.
“YES!” I reply, a huge grin on my face.
He starts talking to me and our heads are close in an attempt to hear each other better. I inhale his fresh, sweet smell.
He quickly realizes I can’t hear a word he’s saying. He grabs my hand and pulls me to his bedroom. His friend Josh calls after us, “Stay safe, kids!” and a couple of other people whoop. As Dan shuts the door, he raises his eyebrows at me and laughs awkwardly. We hear a few more cheers through the door.
I see his bed out of the corner of my eye. For a moment it seems everything distorts and the bed grows to take up the whole room. Could something happen? I imagine launching myself at him and immediately cringe. I’d definitely need more wine to do that.
I sit down on his bed and say, “Well, this is nice.”
“Yes!” he says, politely ignoring the fact that I’m behaving a little like someone’s mother.
He sits down next to me and I have this sudden urge to just fall off the bed to break the tension. I bounce up and down on the mattress. I do not know why.
“Springy,” I say. Again, I do not know why.
“Yes.” He laughs. He’s very close to me. I am trying desperately to think of something to say that doesn’t reference the fact that we’re on his bed. He’s smiling shyly at me. I look at his dimples. And the way his eyes sparkle. He just lets his smile take over his face. Maybe I do want to reference the fact that we’re on his bed.
I think maybe I’m staring too much, and I look up at the walls. Lots of posters of motorcycles, including one with a naked girl draped across it. At last, I have something to mock him for.
“She seems nice. Is she your friend?” I point at the wall.
“Hey, I bet your wall is covered in oily men!” he protests.
I go to poke him in the stomach and he grabs my arms. I wriggle away, and it descends into one of those play-fights where you laugh so much you feel like you can’t breathe. When I catch his eye, there’s a flutter of excitement between us. It’s not hard to figure out where this is leading.
I grab his wrists and push him backward. I feel him let me.
We’re still for a moment, and for some reason I almost start to laugh. He looks like he’s suppressing a smile too. I lean in and he grabs the back of my head.
The first kiss is forceful, our lips pushing together. Then we kiss more lightly, every
so often feeling our tongues briefly touch. I have my hands on his neck and in his hair.
Suddenly images of Cleo flicker through my head, the way she crawled up Jamie’s body in her lingerie.
I slip down and then slowly move my way up him, grazing my body against him so he’ll feel friction all the way up through his clothes. When our faces are level he looks surprised, but not in a bad way. We’re on the edge of something exciting. Of something changing. And the look that passes between us says we want it to happen.
He pulls me in closer; then the door swings open and one of his friends crashes in.
I leap up and Dan scrambles into a cross-legged position. I’m kneeling up on the bed and pat the mattress.
“Just testing this,” I say quickly.
“Springy,” says Dan.
“Nothing sexual,” I add. Sometimes I shouldn’t be allowed to talk.
His friend is really drunk, so isn’t even listening. He staggers to the bed and lies back on it. Dan and I look at each other over him.
“Back to the party?” asks Dan.
I smile at him, consider for a moment, and nod.
When Gabi and I get picked up much later, Dan and I say good-bye more shyly than usual, but I feel like we’re still both suppressing a smile.
Chapter 19
I arrive at work for Desdemona’s big night. Even though I knew Julia was going all out, I’m still surprised at the transformation. There’s a canopy over the courtyard now, threaded through with twinkling lights to look like a sky full of stars. Ice sculptures and a champagne fountain extend the glittering effect all around. A violin quartet in the corner plays throughout the evening and makes the hubbub and chatter of the party sound musical.
Dezzie is wearing a white and silver nineteen-twenties-style flapper dress, complete with a wide headband, and is drifting around seeming spectacularly blasé about the whole thing.
I’m on wine duty, weaving my way in and out of floppy-haired fourteen-year-olds and balding men in black tie, girls in fabulous dresses, and startlingly coiffured women. And Jamie. His shirt collar is open, his bow tie already undone around his neck. He’s leaning against one of the archways. I’d never tell him, but he looks really good. The other men, with their done-up collars and bow ties nestling under their chins, look uptight and pompous in comparison. Jamie looks like he doesn’t care. Like he could blow the whole polite facade of the party apart if he wanted to.
“Excellent job, Joseph. Fill them up.”
“More wine, sir?” I say sarcastically.
“Not drinking.” He holds up a glass of water.
“Really?”
“Babysitting,” he says, and right on cue, a group of boys moves our way.
“Seriously, dude, Dezzie’s bangin’,” one of them whispers, and then is vigorously elbowed by another who’s seen Jamie watching. The group falls silent.
“Please continue, Jonty. You were discussing my sister?”
“No, no, I, um …”
“Good. Because if I hear that you are, I’ll tell your little friends what I found on your Internet history.”
The boy turns white, and his friends burst into guffaws as they shepherd him away.
Jamie glares after him. For a second I get a flash of something he genuinely feels.
“What does he have on his Internet history?”
“No idea,” says Jamie. “When do you finish?”
“Not for hours. I didn’t know when everything would end, so my stepdad’s sort of on standby.”
“I’ll take you home.”
I start to think of a reason to say no, but he’s gone. I get this urge to follow him, but at the same time I’m relieved. I can’t really work out what I’m thinking. It’s like glimpsing something real about him makes me want to know more and get closer. But then the idea of getting close to Jamie fills me with instinctive, and probably totally reasonable, panic.
While there’s no one around, I decide to text Dan. Just so he knows I’m thinking about him while he’s away. I wonder if I should text Cleo as well. She’s just gone to the Seychelles for a family vacation. She said she was dreading two weeks alone with her parents and sister.
“You’ll find stuff to distract you,” I told her. I can picture her walking around, doing whatever the hell she wants, probably being followed by a bunch of drooling guys like she is here.
“Yeah,” she said, not really listening. We were in her room—well, the room she’s taken over in Radleigh Castle. Better than staying at her school over the summer, she says. It’s a tower room, so the walls curve around in a circle. It has an arched window with a sill big enough to sit on; a huge wall mirror with an ornate wooden frame, which is apparently hundreds of years old; and a four-poster bed. So, you know, just your average hotel room.
Cleo tossed a few bikinis into her Louis Vuitton suitcase and then went over to the mirror and sighed. “It’s a hundred four degrees, apparently.”
“God, how awful …” I shook my head. She caught my eye in the reflection and we shared a smile. She went back to examining herself.
“Keep an eye on him,” she said, putting on lip gloss and then pressing her lips together. “I don’t care what he does so long as I know.”
I frowned. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if you really want to know.”
“Good,” she said, shaking out her hair and turning away from the mirror. “So, your hair.” She marched over to me. “What color are you going for?”
I’d told her I wanted a change. I’ve never dyed my hair. Well, except for the time Gabi and I decided we wanted blond streaks and ended up looking like birds had pooped on our heads. We don’t speak of that.
“Red.” Jamie appeared at the door. “You should dye it red.”
Cleo didn’t look up from her packing.
“I got you a going-away present, darling,” Jamie said, moving into the room.
She continued to ignore him, so he threw a small velvet box across the room to me before leaving and closing the door.
“Do you want …” I held it out to her.
“What is it?” she said, with a note of exasperation.
I opened it. It was a necklace. Gold with a pearl drop. “It’s … It’s lovely,” I said.
She took it from me, looked at it for a second, and then snapped the box shut.
A few hours later, when the taxi came to pick her up, I saw she was wearing the necklace.
I head to the bar, where I’ve left my phone out of sight, and wonder what I should text to Cleo. And whether she would mind me getting a lift with Jamie.
I shake my head. I’m overreacting. It’s getting into his car, not his bed. And I’m not going to, anyway. I get my phone out and there’s a text there from Dan saying he misses me.
I look up and see Jamie through the window. He’s talking to a woman who’s probably Mom’s age, and she keeps laughing and touching his chest. He’s wearing a half smile as he talks to her. Then he looks over. Right at me. He kisses the air slowly.
Just don’t kiss him.
My conversation that night with Cleo floods back. Just by kissing. An involuntary tingle goes through me.
I stare back at him and mouth, “Seriously?”
He mouths it back, making a stupid face. And then he turns to the woman. But I wait, and he looks past her, right at me again. Slowly, he looks me up and down. His eyes hover momentarily over my chest and then drift farther down, and it’s like I can feel fingers brushing over me. His gaze moves over my legs, and then he looks straight into my eyes again and I shiver.
I delete my reply to Dan and open a new message.
Hi Jeff, am getting a lift. You can go to bed!x
Chapter 20
I’m busy all night, which is probably a good thing, because it stops me from thinking about the ride home. A floppy-haired boy named Spencer follows me around asking for refills until he vomits down his front and passes out. I leave him in the hands of his friends, who begin to film themselves drawing on him.
One of the bald men, who is possibly Spencer’s dad, also follows me around, shouting that I’m his “favorite” before falling into a bush. I find it amusing that in normal life he probably runs a company or something.
I’m just going to get a fresh bottle of wine when someone pokes me in the back. I turn around and there’s a large old woman sitting on a chair at the edge of the courtyard. She’s cloaked in silk and looks a little like an angry toad.
“Would you like my strawberry titty?”
“I’m … I’m sorry?”
“This thing.” I realize she’s holding out one of the miniature strawberry-and-cream desserts in little jars that we’d handed out. She taps the jar with her finger.
“Um, no, thank you. I’m working, so I probably shouldn’t.”
I feel an arm slip around my shoulder.
“Awfully impolite of you to turn down Aunt Beryl’s strawberry titty,” says Jamie.
“Oh, okay.” I hold my hand out, thanking the lady while trying desperately to keep a straight face and not catch Jamie’s eye.
I hold the dessert up to him, speaking quietly. “I don’t want it. Too small.”
“Very kind of you, Aunt Beryl,” says Jamie, flashing her a huge fake smile.
“Don’t give me that crap, you little rogue,” she snaps, every word sending ripples down her chins. “Are you still as useless as ever?”
“I certainly am,” he replies, nodding deferentially at her.
She rises to her feet, and the chair gives a creak of relief. As she starts to shuffle off, she turns to me.
“You hold on to your panties with that one, girl. There’s no hope for him.”
Luckily she doesn’t wait for me to respond. We both watch her go for a moment.
“You can take your arm off me now,” I say.
He slides his hand away, deliberately dragging his fingers across my back. I squirm, trying to conceal the shiver that just went over my skin.
“Has anyone ever told you how creepy you are?”
“No,” he says, smiling. “Come upstairs. I want to show you something.”