Chapter 12
The alarm blares, and I groan, coming around.
The summer is over, and the reality of life with Jeremy outside Cornwall is now here.
It has been a perfect summer, or at least perfect in my mind. However, my mum seems less impressed with my decisions, and Sammy didn’t return my call when I got back on Friday.
Being in my mum’s bad books wasn’t something I was familiar with, and it made me feel funny, like something was off balance in the world, but I didn’t know how to make it right. Justifying my decision to her didn’t feel necessary — she knew my intent when she left, and she went along with it.
Sammy, I can understand. I blew her off, and I did feel bad.
“Are you up, Anna? First day, don’t be late!” Mum never has to remind me to get up for school, and I wonder if she’s just exerting her mum power over me now I’m back.
“I’m up. Jeremy’s picking me up, so we have time.”
Just thinking about him brings a smile to my face, and I happily throw back the covers and set about getting ready.
Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” I call as I race down the stairs. I throw open the door and jump into his arms.
“Wow, hello to you, too.” He kisses me quickly and puts me back down. “It’s the first day of school. You shouldn’t be that excited.”
“It’s not school I’m pleased about. Let me grab my bag.” I head to the kitchen and grab my rucksack from the table. “I’ll see you later, Mum.”
“Are you coming home after school? Dinner?” she calls from her studio.
“Um, I’m not sure. I’ll text you.” I head back out to Jeremy and shut the door. “Come on.”
He smiles and leads us to his car, opens the door for me, and I jump in and take a breath.
This is really happening.
We park in the student area, and I sit for a second in the car as I see a few of his friends approach as he gets out. For a moment, the thought that all of our time together this summer might have been just a dream and we’ll crash back to Earth the moment he’s with his friends hits and sends a tremor through me. But he comes around to my side of the car, helps me out, smiles, and kisses me on the forehead before putting his arm around me and escorting me into school.
I smile boldly, proud and confident to have Jeremy next to me. And the looks of confusion on the faces of his friends stoke that feeling to a burning flame inside my heart.
“You’re smiling,” I comment.
“I’m happy.”
“You never smiled at school before. I always noticed that.”
“I didn’t have you before.”
Nobody approaches us, but everyone watches. As we walk into the common room, the looks and stares from the girls are borderline comical. Out of everyone here and anyone he could have chosen, he chose me, and not out of pity or necessity for his grades, but because he wanted me.
My insecurity that our romance might falter doesn’t disappear, but with every day it gets easier to push to the back of my mind. We’re not just a summer fling. He hasn’t got bored or changed his mind now he’s back to real life.
Jeremy did everything he could to ensure I didn’t feel like that.
He was charming. Attentive. He never once gave me pause or worry that he wasn’t interested or regretted anything that happened in the summer.
He enveloped me into every part of his life at school, which is the opposite of what I had expected from watching him for so long. The closeness we forged in Cornwall could have relaxed now we weren’t the only people in our spheres of existence, but we bled into every aspect of each other’s lives.
He waited for me at the end of school, took me home, and picked me up every morning, and, after some convincing, Mum even agreed to sleepovers on the weekend, but only at our house.
As the weeks passed, Sammy and I also found our own time and rhythm. We weren’t as close as before, but I made sure not to exclude her. She still came around for film nights, but Jeremy was there most of the time, too. And we both pushed hard on the study front — we had to if we still wanted to get into university. The final school year was short. And it was the perfect year — almost — if it weren’t for the end-of-school exams.
But we had Jeremy’s eighteenth to celebrate before then.
“Please, Sammy? There’s so much to do, and I want it to be perfect,” I plead for help because there’s no way that I have time to finish the decorations and get everything ready before the party. My car is filled with balloons, streamers, and everything else I can think of to turn his house into a party venue. His parents have hired catering and have covered the booze, but I wanted to do something, too.
“Anna, seriously?”
“Come on, Sammy. An hour. You don’t have to stay.”
“Oh great, thanks. Come and help with my boyfriend’s party, but don’t bother staying.”
“No, that’s not it. Not at all. I just know you don’t like his friends.”
“Neither do you. Or has that changed, too?”
“Don’t be like that.” I roll my eyes, glad this is a conversation over the phone and not face-to-face.
“Like what, Anna? You’ve been like this since the summer. You blew me off then, and now I only see you with Jeremy because you seem to have lost the ability to function without him.”
“It’s his birthday, Anna.”
“Yeah. And did we celebrate mine? No. When you come to your senses, then give me a call.” She hangs up on me.
Her words hurt — more than hurt — because guilt gushes from the wounds her tongue inflicted. How could I forget my best friend’s birthday? And I realise that while I might have been including her, it’s only been in a peripheral position because Jeremy’s where she used to be.
Tears sting in my eyes, and a big part of me wants to do nothing but run over to her and apologise — promise to make it up to her and mean it. But it’s Jeremy’s birthday. There’s nothing I can do for Sammy right now. I’ll start making it up to her tomorrow.
I turn the key in the ignition but don’t drive off right away, wondering about going to see Sammy. Jeremy would understand.
Turn left or drive straight at the end of the road? I put the car into gear and set off.
A few minutes later, I pull up at Jeremy’s house and start unloading all the decorations. “Hello?” I call as I enter. I’d expected the place to be a hive of people getting ready, but it’s deserted.
I start in the kitchen and see all the trays of food out and the stack of bottles, cans, and mixers on the counters. I thought it was meant to be a small party, with only school friends, but it looks like his parents have catered as if it’s one of their housewarmings.
Pulling the balloons apart from the nest of strings, I start to place them around the rooms downstairs. Next, I wrap a set of fairy lights around the wooden balustrade, starting in the hall and all the way up to the landing.
“Anna?”
“Oh, gosh! Mr Archer, you made me jump. I didn’t think anyone was here.”
“Well, Penelope will be back late,” he starts, swooshing the liquid in the glass tumbler in his hand around. “This isn’t the type of party she’d be excited about. And, well, Jeremy will be here when he gets here.” He takes a swig of his drink as he finishes his answer.
His eyes look glassy, which is unusual. Typically, Mr Archer only has one or two drinks, happy to keep to what most would call an acceptable level.
“I have more decorations. If you don’t mind giving me a hand.” I force a smile and grip the rest of the string of lights in my hand.
He knocks back the last of his drink and takes a step forward. “Show me.”
I hang the lights, go back into the kitchen, and head to the counter where I left the banners, with Mr Archer following. “If you could hang one of these. Oh—” I turn back to hand them to him, but he’s crowding me, blocking me in against the side. “Mr Archer?” I scowl as my body starts to shake with intimidation. This isn’t right.
“You’re very beautiful, Anna. You’ve certainly made an impression on Jeremy. You’re still here, for one.”
I back up an inch, but the counter is in the way. He reaches forward and twists a strand of my hair in his fingers.
“Mr Archer, stop. Please leave me alone.” I step to the side, but he moves to mirror me.
“I don’t think so. I think it’s about time you showed me how grateful you are.”
“Grateful?” My voice is a whisper, and I fight the mounting panic. My eyes dart to the left. I think I could make it around the island to the door. All my adrenaline pushes my legs into action, and I sprint to the side. But a vice-like grip clamps around my wrist, pulling me back. “Oh, I do like it when they fight.”
He twists me harshly and slams me into the side. With his other arm, he shoves me forward, forcing me to bend at the waist.
Panic rises as I realise what’s happening.
“No. Stop. Stop it!”
His weight suffocates me as he leans over me. His free hand runs down my back and over my bum, searching for the edge of my dress.
“No, no, no.” I keep wiggling and fighting, but he doesn’t budge.
“Grinding your pert little arse into my cock’s a nice touch. Don’t worry, though. I’m already hard for you.”
His hand grabs at my thigh, and I try to clamp them together, but he shoves his leg between them, forcing them open.
“That’s right. Spread those legs for me. You owe me this,” he grits out.
“Shut up. Stop it. Stop it!”
My lungs start to strain, and my throat constricts, tightening as if a hand is wrapped around it.
All of a sudden, he isn’t there anymore, and there’s no pressure keeping me against the counter.
“What the—” Mr Archer starts.
I turn around to see Jeremy hauling his father off me. He swings him into the wall.
“What the fuck!” he bellows at him.
“Relax, it was just a bit of fun.” His dad tries to stand up to him, but his words twist the knife already wedged in my gut. Fun?
Jeremy’s arm swings back and unleashes a punch that clocks his dad square on the chin. He stumbles back and hits the floor, sprawling over the polished marble. The shock on his face is little retribution for what he just tried, but I’ll take it for now.
“You’re out of here.”
“Jeremy—”
“Shut the fuck up! I mean it. Leave. Or we’ll press charges. Your clients, I’m sure, would be very interested in you assaulting my girlfriend.” His voice is filled with such anger it’s unrecognisable. I want to pull him away — to flee — and pretend this never happened. But I can’t.
The embarrassment and humiliation start to build in my chest now the fear has subsided, but I’m not immune to the change in Jeremy. This is the broody boy I had a crush on but in the worst way imaginable.
He’s vibrating with anger like it’s straining him to keep it together.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Even from his position on the floor, Mr Archer sounds proper, like this was just a misunderstanding, and it stings.
Jeremy grabs his shirt and shoves him back against the polished floor. “You are in no position to argue.” And to make his point, he rains a volley of punches over his face again. He keeps going. Punch after punch.
“Jeremy, stop!” I run to him, grabbing his arm. His knuckles are red and speckled with blood, and his dad’s face is now blotchy where he’s inflicted the damage.
I pull his arm and drag him back.
“Don’t fucking try me, Dad. You’ll lose. You leave. Now. Or we call the police.”
Mr Archer waits as if he’s thinking it over. He spits out a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Fine.” There’s no fight left. He doesn’t raise his head to look at him. “I’ll check into a hotel for a few nights.”
“No. Not for a few nights. You go. You don’t come back. Ever.”
“Jeremy, that’s?—”
“How it’s going to be!” he shouts, cutting anything his dad was going to say. “Mum is tired of your shit. I’m eighteen now. Just fucking leave.” He leans over him, barring his teeth as he repeats his order.
His dad nods, his eye already starting to close from the bruising.
“Come on.” He spins and grabs my wrist, the same one his dad grabbed. I pull it from his hold, but he barely notices as he storms out.
“Wait, Jeremy. Calm down. Look at your hand.” The blood from his split knuckle is dripping down his arm.
He diverts into the downstairs bathroom and starts to run the tap, rinsing the blood away. I hover at the door, watching him as I keep my arms wrapped around me.
He looks up into the mirror. Gone are the beautiful eyes that always draw me in. In their place are dark, moody depths that whisper of pain and anger.
His hands ball into fists, and he thumps both into the mirror, smashing it to pieces.
“Jeremy!” I grab his shoulders and pull him out. “Come on. Let’s go. Let’s go!” I repeat more forcefully. He seems to snap out of his rage and focuses on me, locking eyes with me. He looks broken, and his eyes shine with unshed tears, tearing at my own heart for what he’s done. Defending me. Standing up to his dad but also ripping his family apart.
He grabs my face and kisses me. It’s short and chaste, but at that moment, it tells me everything I need to know.
He nods and takes my hand, pulling me out of the house and to his car.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I don’t know. But I don’t care. I just need to be with you and make sure you’re safe.”