Fletch shrugs. ‘Don’t know. Drinks?’
‘Don’t mind if I do – but I’ll come with you. God knows you need help pouring a decent shot.’ Alec ushers Fletch away. ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell us when the time is right,’ he adds over his shoulder.
Shrugging, I leave them to carry on sorting drinks and go to find the others. Kiki’s in the living room, trying to get Leon to dance, only he doesn’t seem massively up for it.
‘Nettie, will you have a word?’ Kiki drops Leon’s hands, turning to me in frustration.
‘It’s early, Kiki,’ says Leon in protest.
‘Isn’t the kitchen the dance room usually?’ I say.
‘I can’t get in there; it’s too crowded,’ she says. She’s wearing jeans that she’s cleverly customized with shiny fabric paint and a black wet-look crop top. Her hair’s covered in little green gems to match her emerald-glitter-painted eyes. ‘Ooh, nice dress.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Charity shop special. You look gorgeous, Kiki.’
She smiles. ‘Thank you. Fuck Miss Duke; I’m lovely.’
I know she believes it, too. Confidence is literally radiating off of her. It’s such a dramatic change from how she was last year, and I know she must have worked really hard over the summer to get here. I’m so happy she’s seeing herself the way she really is. She’s amazing.
Kiki nudges Leon. ‘Taro’s just walked in.’
We both follow her gaze, to where Taro Mitsuhashi is leaning against the doorframe, every bit the college hunk with his sweeping dark fringe and cheeky smile.
Leon raises his eyebrows.
‘So?’ ‘So? You like him, don’t you?’
‘If you mean, have I had one brief conversation in the foyer with him while you lot pointed and stared, then yes.’
‘Taro’s a really great dancer, for an MT boy,’ she says. I love how Kiki always measures people’s attractiveness in terms of how good a dancer they are.
‘Mmm,’ says Leon non-committally, but I notice he’s still watching Taro, who has spotted us and is making his way over.
‘What about you?’ I say to Kiki while Leon fiddles with his shirt. ‘Anyone here you like? What about that girl from your contemporary class? Over there. Petra, is it?’
‘She’s going out with Sabrina Pinkett from the stage management course.’
‘Well, plenty of other girls here.’
‘These things are going to be awful to get out,’ Kiki says absently, fluffing up her hair at the back to separate a couple of entangled gems. ‘Oh, you know what? I’m too busy for a relationship anyway. Got to focus on my training. Hey, Taro. We were just saying how great Leon looks, weren’t we, Nettie?’ she says enthusiastically.
I suppress an amused eye-roll as she waggles Leon’s rhinestone belt at Taro – the only nod to Sparkle and Shine on his whole outfit – which he immediately snatches back, managing impressively to combine smiling at Taro with a warning look at her.
Taro grins and pushes his dark fringe out of his eyes. ‘You’re a proper sort, Leon.’
Leon laughs just a little too enthusiastically. Kiki elbows me. Not that she needs to. The room temperature just rose by about six degrees.
‘Nettie, weren’t you about to show me that thing you’ve got in Fletch’s room?’ says Kiki.
‘What?’
‘You know, the Thing?’
‘Oh, the Thing. Yes.’
‘Come on, then.’ She giggles, dragging me away.
Shrugging apologetically at Leon, I follow her out to the hallway. Looking back, I can see Taro laughing while Leon rubs his chin, bemused.
‘Subtle,’ I say.
‘He needs a bit of a gentle nudge sometimes,’ says Kiki cheerfully.
We head for the kitchen, where Fletch and Luca have sorted the ice and are now drinking in the corner together, but someone from contemporary waylays us in the hallway and initiates an enthusiastic conversation about the new teacher.
A while later, Alec squeezes past us. Peering into the living room, he freezes for a second, then doubles back on himself.
‘You all right, Alec?’ says Kiki.
‘Yeah . . . just, uh, looking for . . .’ He barely makes eye contact, dashing back through to the kitchen without finishing his sentence.
‘Who?’ Kiki calls after him, but he’s gone.
‘What’s up with him?’ I say.
‘I think he just saw Leon and Taro,’ says Kiki quietly. She nods towards the living-room door at Leon and Taro. They’re standing close, talking into each other’s mouths and giggling. We watch as they go for what is Definitely Not Their First Kiss of the Evening.
‘But they’re so good together . . .’ I say. Leon hasn’t looked this happy for ages. It’s lovely to see. Why wouldn’t Alec want that for his friend? Unless . . . ‘Wait – you mean Alec likes Taro?’
‘Nah – I just think he can’t bear the fact that Leon’s hooked up with someone and he hasn’t. He’s jealous.’
‘I never got that vibe last year.’
Kiki looks like she’s deciding whether to tell me something. ‘Leon said everything was only fine between them last year because Alec was always on top and he never challenged him.’
‘He told you that?’
‘Yes. He said he’s not going to live in Alec’s shadow any more. But Alec hates Leon’s attention not being completely on him. And since we’ve been back . . . I don’t know. Alec seems . . . different. More intense, right? He’ll be annoyed about Taro, for sure. You’ll see.’
Kiki generally has a pretty cynical view of Alec, and I understand Leon wanting to assert himself in their relationship, but this seems extreme. Like, yes, Alec can be competitive, but I’m sure he’d be happy for his friend. He probably didn’t even notice them.
‘Anyway,’ says Kiki. ‘Big changes for Leon this year.’
‘What changes?’
‘He made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. But you’ll know, soon enough. And you’re gonna love it.’
Around 2 a.m., I’m sitting on the sofa with Kiki and Leon. I’m drunk and sleepy, my hair is plastered to my head from all the dancing, and I’ve left a trail of sequins everywhere I’ve been, like I’m in some sort of Kinky Boots version of Hansel and Gretel.
‘So, Taro . . .’ says Kiki.
Leon laughs. ‘He’s cute.’
‘He defo seems into you,’ she says. ‘You guys are going to be such a hot college couple. A definite rival for Netch.’ She pokes me in the ribs; I swing for her playfully.
‘Whoa, hang on a minute,’ says Leon. ‘We kissed at a party. I don’t think we should get the “cute couple” bunting out quite yet.’
‘Sorry, I’m just excited.’ Kiki grins sheepishly. ‘Speaking of Netch – actually – where’s Fletch? I haven’t seen him all night.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, suddenly realizing how little I’ve seen him. ‘He was helping Luca for a bit and talking to the muso lot . . . I should probably find him.’
I heave myself off the sofa, head to Fletch’s room and knock.
‘Yeah?’ he says.
When I venture in, I find him sitting on the edge of his bed, swirling whisky round in his mug. He’s washed his superhero mask off and there’s an open backpack at the foot of the bed.
‘I haven’t seen you all night,’ I say, going over to him. ‘Are you OK?’
He doesn’t answer me.
‘Going somewhere?’ I joke, pointing at the backpack.
‘I need to tell you something,’ he says, standing up abruptly and swaying a little. He’s had a lot to drink.
‘Um, OK.’ A pang of adrenaline hits my stomach. I knew there had been something on his mind. I just thought it was third year.
Not us.
‘I got a writing placement,’ he says. ‘It’s an apprenticeship at Chichester’s New Works programme. Assisting Oliver and West.’
‘The Oliver and West?’ I say. ‘Oh my God, that’s amazing!’ I’m so proud –
he deserves this. But why the build-up?
I go to hug him, but he pulls away.
‘It starts on Monday, Nettie,’ he says. ‘The placement’s for six months.’
‘This Monday? That’s a bit short notice, isn’t it?’ How can they only just be telling him? Have they been waiting for some last-minute funding to offer an intern programme? And who decided Fletch should get it, just like that? These things take months normally.
He swallows and takes a breath in. ‘I got the offer at the beginning of July.’
July? What?
‘Hang on,’ I say, confused. ‘That was over two months ago.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Why did you wait until now to mention it?’
‘I just never found the right time,’ he says quietly.
Something inside me explodes.
‘How could you have kept that from me?’ My voice is shaking with rage. ‘Did you think I was going to kick off? Like I’d be so concerned about missing you that I wouldn’t be happy for you?’
‘No!’ he says. ‘It’s just that everything happened so quickly at the end of last year – suddenly we were together, and then there was that amazing summer . . . I just didn’t want to ruin it.’
‘So you thought you’d just lie to me?’
‘No! I knew very little about it – they’d sent me no details, so it kind of didn’t feel real? I just . . . put it out of my mind.’ He’s speaking more clearly now; the adrenaline must’ve sobered him up. ‘Nettie, I was going to tell you the night before we came back to college. Michael called me with some information about where I’d be staying and I suddenly realized how real it was, how soon. But I just . . . couldn’t. Then we came back to Duke’s and I told myself I’d tell you, but there never seemed to be the right moment.’
I feel sick. He thinks I’m fragile, that I won’t be able to handle long distance, that I’ll be pining without him at Duke’s. Is that how he sees me? As some whingey, clingy girlfriend who won’t let him out of her sight?
‘Who else knows?’
He doesn’t answer.
‘Who else knows?’
‘Just Luca. And I think I may have told Alec.’
This is ridiculous. ‘You “think”?’ I say.
‘OK, I did tell him,’ he says. ‘Look, it’s coming out all wrong. I just didn’t want to hurt you.’
Of course Alec was in on it. It seems obvious, now that I think about it.
Everyone thinks they need to wrap me up in cotton wool. What was it Kiki said, about needing to show everyone that I don’t need my friends to rescue me? Am I that pathetic? I can just imagine the conversation Fletch and Alec had as they chose to lie to me: Better not tell Nettie anything bad, she lost her mum, you know, she’s a complete emotional fuck-up, what would she have done without us last year? If Alec knew, why didn’t he insist Fletch tell me? I thought our friendship was stronger than that.
Oh my God. That must have been why he’s been so weird with Fletch lately.
Something else occurs to me.
‘Wait a minute,’ I say. ‘The day before we went back to Duke’s, when you told me you loved me . . . That wasn’t what you were going to say, was it?’
He drops his head. ‘OK, no. Nettie, I’m sorry.’
‘So you used I love you to get out of telling me you got a placement?’ My ears are pounding now. How could he do that? How could he take something so intimate and meaningful and use it like that, as a substitute for the truth? ‘That was a lie?’
‘Nettie, I meant it!’ he says, looking up at me again, the start of tears in his eyes. He reaches for my hand, but I pull away, stung.
‘I don’t know how you expect me to believe you. After lying to me all summer.’
‘Look, I should have told you –’ he sighs heavily – ‘but please don’t think I don’t love you. You’re everything, Nettie. I fucked up.’
‘Yeah, you did,’ I say angrily. ‘What makes it worse is that I don’t even get to be excited and happy for you. This is huge, Fletch. Oliver and West. It doesn’t get much better than that. But all I can think about is the fact that you didn’t feel you could share it with me.’
I throw myself down on the bed with my back to him and turn off the light. After a minute, Fletch lies down too, but he doesn’t put his arms around me like he usually does.
As I lie there in the dark, my temper subsides but the anger doesn’t. I feel betrayed. Fletch must think I’m so delicate to have kept it from me for all that time. Chichester’s not even that far, is it – like maybe a couple of hours by train?
I can’t even trust that he meant it when he said I love you. Maybe he did, but I’ll never know for sure now. He’s ruined it, and we can’t just cross it out like a discarded line in a script, stick a yellow page in, and write another version.
It’s tarnished forever, and neither of us can change that.
CHAPTER 5
At 5.30, I’m wide awake, the shadow of last night still hanging over me. Fletch has rolled over to face the other way and is lying on the edge of the bed. How can someone be literal inches from you but feel so far away?
I can’t quite compute what happened last night. Sleep’s meant to give you clarity, isn’t it? Mum always used to say that things never seemed as bad in the morning, but this feels every bit as hideous as it did three hours ago.
I get up quietly and go into the living room to find Luca, still dressed in his outfit from last night, half watching a documentary about Jonathan Larson on his laptop while he clears up the remains of the party.
‘Haven’t you been to sleep yet?’ I say, rubbing my eyes.
He points to a red wine stain he’s in the middle of scrubbing. ‘I wanted to get this mess cleared up. The other hardcore dregs of the muso lot left an hour ago – think they went for breakfast – and I didn’t think Fletch would need the hassle today, what with . . .’ His voice trails off.
‘It’s OK. He told me.’
Luca stands up. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything,’ he says. ‘It wasn’t my thing to tell.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me.’
‘A conversation we had many times,’ replies Luca, getting back down on to his hands and knees to work on the blotch. ‘Could you pass me the salt, please? If it helps, I honestly think he was coming from a good place.’
‘Protecting his fragile girlfriend?’ I say, watching him rubbing salt into the stain, almost like it was my feelings.
He sits up. ‘Nettie, he doesn’t think that. No one does. The things you’ve dealt with – losing your mum, then last year at Duke’s? As Seb would say, You’re tough as nails – I’m talking Lizzo’s acrylics, babe.’ We both laugh a little. ‘No, I think he’s the one he was trying to protect. Fletch doesn’t deal with stuff so well. He’s completely cut up about leaving you. I’ve never seen him like this.’
I hadn’t thought about it that way. Grief does weird things to you – I should know that. Leaving Luca in the living room, I grab a brush and start sweeping the kitchen. As I go back and forth across the floor, I think about what Luca said, and the anger I was holding on to starts to fall away. Fletch fucked up, but it did come from a good place. This could be the last day I see him for a while, and we’re not going to leave things like this.
At around half past nine, when Luca finally takes himself to bed, I go back into Fletch’s room expecting to find him asleep, but when I push the door open I’m shocked to find him sitting on the bed almost exactly as I found him last night, except that this time the sun’s streaming in and his bags are all packed up and ready to go. If last night seemed like a horrible dream, today is a harsh dose of reality.
‘Hey,’ says Fletch.
‘Hey.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ He stands up and comes over to me. ‘I was a coward. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you. It was just the thought of going away – I couldn’t deal with it.’
‘Did you think
we couldn’t figure out long distance?’ I say. ‘Fletch, we fell for each other through a studio wall. Music did that. Our love is literally made of songs – what’s stronger than that? Two hours to Chichester is definitely not going to be a problem.’
He smiles. ‘I know. But I’m not worried about my feelings fading, or that we’ll grow apart. I just . . . don’t know how I’m going to stand missing you. It was like, if I didn’t say it out loud, I could pretend it wasn’t happening.’ He pulls on his hair, which is still a mess from sleeping on it but still manages to look sexy. ‘I love you, Nettie. I meant it when I said it. I still mean it.’
Suddenly, everything else melts away.
‘I love you, too.’ I put my arms around his waist and lean my cheek on his chest. He holds my hair, kissing the top of my head over and over. I can feel an ache starting somewhere deep within my ribcage. Like I’m missing him before he’s even gone.
‘Let’s just do this a bit at a time,’ he says into my hair.
‘Are you home this weekend?’
‘I think so. Hopefully,’ he adds, almost like a get-out clause. ‘But if I’m not, we’ll FaceTime, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘You’ll get sick of my face in no time,’ he says.
‘I’m sick of it already. You should probably go.’ We both laugh, but the joke doesn’t make me feel better.
He picks up his things. I follow him out to the front door and into the street. He puts the bags into the panniers on his bike and secures the lids. Then he holds my hands, his keys jangling between our fingers.
‘I’ll call you when I get there.’ He leans down and kisses me softly. I want to freeze this moment in time, when it’s just me and him and nothing else, and all I have to think about is his lips on mine and the tingle down my spine.
He drops a final kiss on my forehead and swings his leg over the bike.
I wave until he’s out of sight, my smile feeling stuck on. Then the tears I’ve been holding back escape my eyes, and I let them roll down my face, listening to the sound of his bike engine fade until all I can hear is the wind in the trees and the leaves blowing about me.
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