Only You, Only Us

Chapter 1

He’s never looked at me.

It didn’t stop me from watching him, and no, I’m not some secret stalker. Everyone watches Jeremy Archer. He is the unobtainable bad boy at school, or at least that’s what the girls call him.

And he’s just been assigned as my science lab partner for next year.

We are back in for our sixth form induction before the summer, and not only are we in the same class, but we’ll be partners.

I don’t know if I’m excited or terrified. We’ve barely spoken two words in the last three years of school, but that hasn’t stopped my heart beating a little harder each time he walked past me. And now we’re meant to be working together in my favourite class. He’ll have to look at me then, and I’ll be able to stop dreaming about what it would be like to look into his piercing sea-blue eyes and have him see me.

“Earth to Anna.”

“Um, yeah?” I tune out of my daydream and focus on Sammy.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Nope.” She won’t mind. Given the information that I’ve just received, there are extenuating circumstances. Everyone else is packing up, so I shove my new textbooks into my bag and follow her towards the door.

“Okay, understandable. What are you going to do? Talk to him?”

“I guess.” We head down the corridor towards the common room.

“Seriously, Anna, Jeremy Archer. You lucked out. I got Adam McVey, and I’m not even in the same class as you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Adam. He’s a good student.”

“He’s not Jeremy Archer, though.”

“Granted. But Jeremy could turn out to be a big dork.” Please, no, no, no, I pray under my breath.

“Someone that good-looking and that broody can’t be a dork. And seriously, Anna, are you twelve?”

“Fine. He might be stupid.”

“Wrong again. He’s clever. He’s in the same class as you, isn’t he? So, you just need to go and talk to him.” She shoves me out in front of her. I turn and glare, but all she does is stick her tongue out.

“Fine.”

I can do this.

He’s already at his usual table in the common room, with a group of guys around him, flanking him like he’s their prized possession. It’s intimidating, but I suck it up. They shouldn’t bother me. I’ve been flying under the radar at school for years, keeping to myself and not interfering with the popular crowd.

As I approach, the chatter and gossip between them hushes, and they all seem to turn to look at me — so much for my inner don’t-give-a-shit attitude. I stand there with no words, just staring at Jeremy. Only he doesn’t even look up from his phone.

“Hey, Archer. Little Miss Anna here looks like she wants to talk to you. What’s up, Anna, got something to say?” My nickname isn’t especially imaginative, considering I haven’t been the shortest in my year for years, but it seemed to stick with some of the boys. They all turn to look at me, waiting for me to say something.

“Easy, Derek, you jerk.” Jeremy stands and ushers me out of earshot from the others. I freeze as he puts his hand on the base of my spine. The air catches in my chest as he looks down at me. He’s six foot tall and towers over my five-foot-two frame.

And there they are — those eyes. They’re both haunting and vivid and a permanent distraction that I’d happily drown in.

“Anna, you wanted to speak to me?” His voice is kind. Encouraging.

“Yeah. Right, sorry.” I fidget from one foot to the other and resist the urge to grab my school skirt. “I just thought, as we’re going to be working with each other in science, that maybe we should swap numbers. Maybe?”

“We’re not back until after summer, right?” He smiles, but his eyes narrow.

“No, I know. But if there’s anything set for over the summer, it’ll be good to, well, make sure—” My words start tumbling together, and my cheeks start to roast.

“Easy, there, Anna. I’ve got your number. I’ll shoot you a text over the summer. We can get together before the start of term. Cool?”

“Um, yeah. Thanks.”

He’s got my number?

He leaves and sits back with his friends. And all I can do is stand motionless. Luckily, Sammy must have been watching as she swoops in to collect me and pulls me away to the safety of one of the study rooms.

“Well?” She bounces up and down and squeezes my hands.

“Um…” It seems to be my favourite word right now.

“Um, what? Tell, tell, tell.”

“He has my number. Jeremy Archer has my number,” I seem to squeal the last syllable.

“Oh my god, Anna, seriously!” she shrieks.

“Shh, calm down.”

“I will not calm down. This is huge. Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me off again.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I’d love to say home, but we still have fifth period — a whole-year introduction. So, we’re going to the canteen, and I’m getting a celebratory cookie.”

“Now, who’s twelve.”

“Oh, come on. This deserves chocolate.”

“No, wait. Come over to mine tonight. Mum’s cooking her favourite, and you’re always welcome. We can celebrate with a film night. Stay over?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. It’s not like we have school to worry about now.” I grab my phone out of my bag and text Mum to let her know the change of plans.

The rest of the day flies by, and for once, I have a smile on my face.

Because I’m academically minded, I’ve suffered with labels, and my peers have classed me as a swat for most of my school life, and in the traditionally cruel way, I guess it sort of fits. With my veil of long black hair and pale skin, I often look moody and in need of sunlight. And so, after a while, I slipped into the character they painted me as.

But today, I broke the mould and embraced the smile.

“Mum, we’re home!” I call as we walk in the door. We fling our bags down by the front door and walk through the house to the small home studio in the back room, where she’s bound to be. She’s a jewellery designer and converted the back room into a workshop. She makes one-of-a-kind pieces and takes commissions, as well as a few more commercial pieces she sells online and in a few stores to pay the bills.

“Hey girls,” she greets and stops what she’s doing, turning on her work stool.

“Hey, Becca. Thanks for having me,” Sammy says.

“Anytime, you know that. So, what’s got you girls all excited?” Mum could read me like a book, and I gave up pretending it was any other way a few years ago.

“Jeremy Archer has Anna’s number,” Sammy announces, her voice a little pitchy.

“Oh, well. And who is Jeremy Archer?” she asks. “I want to know everything.”

“Mum, there’s nothing to say. Sammy’s getting way ahead of herself. We’ve been assigned as lab partners for science next year, and he’s mine. I spoke to him today to swap numbers, but he seems to have mine already.”

“How did he get it?” Mum asks.

“I didn’t ask.”

“And, last question, what’s so special about Jeremy Archer?” She looks between us, waiting for the answer.

Sammy and I look at each other and burst into giggles. “He’s probably the most popular guy in our year,” I say.

“But he’s also the most elusive. He’s got this whole moody, untouchable vibe going on. It’s hot.”

“Sammy!” I scold. My mum’s cool, but there’s something called oversharing.

“Okay. Got it.” She stands. “I’m going to get a start on dinner. I’ll shout when it’s ready, and you can spill more of the tea on Jeremy Archer.” She shoos us out of the studio.

We go upstairs to my bedroom, and Sammy flumps on the double bed as I start streaming a playlist.

“Are you all set for your holiday?” she asks.

“Sort of. We’re leaving in a few weeks. What about you?”

“The week you get back, so we’ll have to make the most of the next few weeks. You have to call and message when I’m away. Two weeks with my little brother is going to drive me mad.” She rolls over on the bed in a melodramatic flare.

“You’re going to Greece, and it will be amazing. I’ll probably get two weeks of rain.”

Mum and I go to Cornwall every year in the summer. It’s our tradition. We stay in the same small village — you can’t even call it a town — and hang out on the beach, go for walks, sit in, and read. She gets her inspiration down there and spends time scribbling in her sketchbooks or planning new designs.

“You love being away with your mum. You eat out, hang out, and try to tan. The weather doesn’t matter. But the holidays will almost be over by the time I’m back.”

“There’ll still be time for a shopping trip or two before I go,” I offer. I don’t tell her that I also want to try and get a job for the summer — weekends, hopefully — and start to save some money. And if all goes well, I can maybe keep it when I go back to school.

“Dinner was lovely, thanks, Becca.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime, Sammy.”

“Is there…” I look eagerly at Mum. We always have ice cream after pasta and garlic bread. It’s our ultimate indulgence night when we don’t care about the carbs or calories.

“Chocolate chip fudge sundae in the freezer. Is that good enough?”

“Perfect. You’re the best.”

“I know. But I appreciate the reminder.”

“I’ll get the bowls. Sammy, you can choose the film.”

We all sit on the sofa with huge dollops of gooey ice cream.

“To the next year and having Jeremy Archer as your science partner,” Sammy announces, raising her spoon, laden with chocolate goodness. We all toast and giggle before zoning out in front of the television. It’s a horror film with a rubbish ending and is weird rather than scary. Sammy likes that kind of stuff.

I’d much rather choose something with action or a love story. But the ending has to be good. So many films could be so much better if they ended ten minutes sooner rather than drifting to nothingness.

Mum said I should write my own if I’m so enraged by what I watch. But I’m not sure if that’s the job for me. I’d always imagined I’d choose something with science, but I had time to decide.

With my teeth still humming from all the sugar and sweetness, Sammy and I go up to bed. My mum is a night owl — she’ll be awake until midnight at the earliest. It didn’t matter when she went to bed, she was still up in the morning like any regular person. I craved her ability to wake up and jump out of bed. I’d give anything for another ten minutes in the morning, especially when the weather was cold or wet.

Sammy and I talk for the rest of the night about anything and everything, but mostly, I think about Jeremy.

How did he get my number?

Who gave it to him? I’d usually guess Sammy — she was my best friend, aside from my mum — but she was as surprised as I was that he had it.

I wished we still had a few days left of school, but we’d already broken up before our exams. We now had to wait for the results before hopefully returning next term. It would have been nice going to school with the knowledge that Jeremy actually knew my name and had my number. Maybe he’d use them.

Instead, I was at home, dreaming up scenarios about how he’d look my way, talk to me in class, or stop me to talk. But I had weeks to test those theories.

Would he still be the unobtainable guy all the girls wanted to speak with? They all tried. All year, he was the one they all wanted to get with, even right up to our study leave. It was a regular occurrence to see the popular girls go up to him, twirling their pretty hair and hoping he’d show some interest. Being able to brag that you had Jeremy Archer as your boyfriend for the summer would push anyone up the popularity list.

But he never chose a girlfriend.

Maybe next year would be different.