“I want to hear something true,” she said. “Something I’ll like hearing from you.”
Her hair was scruffed up from leaning on him earlier, lips slightly parted as she breathed through her mouth. He wanted to tell her she was perfect, but they’d talked enough for him to know she hated that word. Felt trapped by it.
“You’re my best friend,” Ryan said, lifting his hand up to scratch the back of his head, to give him something to do. “My only one, actually.”
The way she looked at him blew him apart completely. She was nothing but wide, awed eyes and the smallest of gasps came out – and then she kissed him.
Not a platonic peck, but a firm, hungry kiss, aimed at his lips. When he breathed in, she drew closer and then his lips had parted and they were kissing for real, messy and soft, the kind of kiss that forced his hand into a fist around the material of her shirt, pulling her tight towards him.
He’d kissed people before. Girls who didn’t know him well enough to think he was a dick, or friends giggly enough on gas to make out just for fun. Kisses without consequence.
Nothing like this.
His hands were on her body, her fingers raking against the soft buzz of hair up the back of his head in a way that made his skin prickle from head to toe, and he wanted her so much…
“Shit.” He pushed himself back from her with enough force to propel him all the way to the sink. “What the fuck are we doing?”
“What do you think?” But for all she was smiling, she kept her distance, like she was well aware of how terrible this idea was.
“You’re going out with my cousin.”
“Am I?”
He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. “Yes.”
She looked at him for a long moment and then, “I want to be with you, Ryan. Or are you really so dense that you haven’t noticed that you’re the person I keep coming back to?”
“Well you can’t!” The words came out before he’d had a chance to check if they were the ones he was looking for. “Kellan’s family.”
“You hate him!”
“Like that matters!” he snarled back, furious that they were fighting about this, that the best thing in his utterly miserable life had been ruined in the space of a single kiss. Because this was it, wasn’t it? She’d never come back now. They couldn’t be friends. The longer he stayed here, with Freya, the harder it would be to keep to his word. Even as he was yelling at her all he could think about was giving in and letting it happen again. Seeing where it led to.
For one moment he thought about it. Teetered on an impulse, and then he spun away, went for the back door. Ignored Freya calling after him, just walked out in his socks. Out the back gate and into the alley, away from his house and the girl he should never have invited inside. He’d kept her secret, but if he gave Freya what she asked for now, it would destroy him.
He had some fucking honour.
Not much, but enough worth keeping.
He stayed out so long that everyone else was home when he got back, Mam as riled up as a box of badgers because he’d gone without locking up, lights and telly left on, burning up the electricity. There was no trace of Freya. No note, no messages on his phone. She’d walked out the same as him.
The next day at school, when he saw her approach, Ryan turned away.
When she said his name, he pretended not to hear it.
He couldn’t face her, couldn’t face himself. Kellan was his cousin and family came first.
WIN
No one would have blamed Win for being angry with Ryan. It was straightforward cause and effect, but not all of her frustration stemmed from him starting a fight – most of it was in the timing.
Because Sophie had read her letter.
For one second, she had looked Win right in the eye. Everything around them – the sky, the sea and the sand, the cool caress of the wind, all of it – had faded to nothing. All Win could take in was Sophie. Red hair blown forward, wisps breaking up the smooth pale heart of her face, those fine, elegant eyebrows tipping up in realisation, the line of freckles along her lip hinting at a curve that might have turned into a smile…
And her eyes. Bronzed and bold as if she finally saw Win for who she was.
A second split apart by a shriek from the water’s edge and the two of them leapt away from their own private revelation and into Ryan Krikler’s drama. Again.
That boy was a lot more effort than he was worth – but then, Win was starting to think that was his problem. Ryan believed he was worth no effort at all. If he could settle halfway between the two, that would be a start.
Win couldn’t imagine engineering another moment like the one on the beach, one just for her and Sophie. But she could buy it. As Sophie drifted towards the men’s clothes at the back of the shop, Win pressed a five pound note into Sunny’s hand.
“Rang wo he Sophie dai wu fen zhong.”
Sunny hunted for a clue by scanning her face. And as ever, Win played it poker straight.
“Wu fen zhong?”
Win nodded. Five minutes was all she needed.
Turning towards the back of the shop, Win felt that familiar swoop of fear tempered by nerves of a different nature as her gaze settled on the back of Sophie’s head, the churn of her curls as they spilled from her ponytail and the freckles dappling the skin of her neck.
Win had already plunged beneath the surface, all she could do now was hold her breath and see if she resurfaced.
From behind came the screech of a rail’s worth of wire hangers being scraped to one side of the rack so that Sunny could go along the row from left to right, giving each item careful consideration.
“Does Sunny know that’s the kids’ rail?” Sophie said, looking over with a frown.
“That’s where you find the bargains.”
“Not much of a bargain if it doesn’t fit.”
“Depends who you’re buying for.” Win glanced back at her sister. “Pretty sure half Sunny’s wardrobe comes from the kids’ section.”
But the way Sophie nodded was the chin dip of someone aware that they were in a conversation without having heard the words.
Rather than force her attention, Win came to stand next to her, nudging the hangers along, going through an exercise her father had taught her, of going through her body, muscle by muscle, brow to toe, concentrating on relaxing each and every atom of her being, ironing the tension from her body. It was all about putting faith in stillness, in trusting that whatever might happen next, there was no need to be ready to run or to fight.
Freya had said Sophie was someone she could trust – but it wasn’t always a question of trust. Sometimes it was a declaration.
“I should give you this back.” Sophie reached into her little biscuit bag and held the letter out for Win to take. “Thank you for letting me read it.”
“Did it help?”
Sophie sighed. “Maybe if she’d written it to me instead of you…”
“Oh.” Win felt foolish. “You can forget I ever gave it to you, then. If you want.”
“I don’t want.” A pair of trousers slithered from the hanger and onto the floor. Neither made a move to pick them up. They stood, half turned to each other as Sophie said with quiet fervour, “I don’t want that at all.”