Chapter 51
51
Evie
Shit, shit, shit.
I didn’t mean to look in his direction on my way down the stairs. Drew Kennedy and I have never had secrets. Well, we have, but most of them were glaringly obvious to each other. I know, without exchanging a single word, that he’s just seen right through my blazing academic achievement and plowed straight into my heart. Where things are not right.
I don’t know when the anxiety escalated so much. I had it as a kid, I guess, and it got worse on our gap year, but this full-blown worry about everything has crept up on me. And I didn’t realize how bad it was until now—trapped in Drew’s scrutiny. Seeing him again feels like a natural measure of how far I’ve fallen.
He, meanwhile, looks annoyingly good. Or did, when he was admiring his girlfriend. Glancing at me, he’s tense and grumpy. I try to smooth it away with a half smile, but he doesn’t smile back and that only heightens the strain between us.
I thread my way back to my seat, sit down, heart thumping, and contemplate the fact that I have everything I’ve ever wanted. The metal cylinder in my lap containing my degree, the scholarship, the place in the research program. I’m studying forensic linguistics—a fascination that has gripped me since I first started watching crime shows as a teenager. I’m researching how a criminal’s speech patterns can expose them. It’s enthralling. And even though I’ve only just started my PhD, I’ve been nominated to speak at my first national conference later in the year, because, apparently, I’m the linguistics department’s “rising star.”
And I have Oliver. Still.
He couldn’t come to the ceremony because they gave us only two tickets each and my parents took those. We had a fight about that—“I’m your fiancé , Evie, or will be once you see sense”—but we’re meeting outside for drinks in the garden afterward.
The law faculty held their graduation last week. His mum was sick, so I went to his ceremony with his dad and his mixed signals. Utterly proud in one way but also totally distracted—he kept looking at his watch and typing emails on his phone. It hit me again that Oliver has never really been loved. Not like I am. There’s a part of me that’s been increasingly worried this lack of example in his life is going to creep up on us—or that it already has. But that’s probably just my being paranoid again, as he loves to suggest.
I push through the crowds on the way out, looking for Oliver. Knowing I need to find him first, in case we run into Drew.
Carried by the wave of people down the stairs, I’m thrust out into the sunshine, where everyone’s milling about having photos taken, throwing mortarboards into the air, clinking glasses. All these years of hard work, and it’s over. Well, not in my case, as I’ve gone straight on, but this feels like a major milestone.
“Still a nerd, Hudson.” Drew’s voice is clear, behind me.
I turn around and he’s the only person standing still in the bustling crowd, sunlight refracted onto his face from the shiny terra-cotta tiles at our feet. He’s taller than I remember, and he looks into my face with a mix of teasing and pride and silent apology. He knows exactly how much these academic results mean to me. And for a moment we’re frozen in time.
I miss him.
He steps forward and draws me into a hug. “Congratulations,” he whispers. “You did it.”
I don’t want to let go. I clutch my degree, my arms tightening around his neck. In the privacy of this embrace, everything else seems to fall away—the crowds, the noise, the anxiety, the decision I have yet to make about Oliver’s proposal. Well, his statement, really. I get this crazy vision of Drew picking me up in my graduation gown and carrying me out of here, taking me away from everything. Escaping.
But that doesn’t happen, of course. The moment is broken when his girlfriend approaches with two glasses of prosecco and a sunny expression.
“Congratulations!” I say to her, pulling out of the hug and brushing my gown down.
She beams back. “And to you! Wow! Impressive results. I’m Meg.”
At face value, she’s everything I would want for Drew. There’s an open warmth to her. Of everyone I know, Drew deserves warmth.
“Meg, this is Evie,” he says.
“Wait!” she says. “High school Evie?”
He looks uncomfortable. I scan the crowd for Oliver, who is nowhere to be seen. I hate to imagine the story Drew has given Meg. This is my former best friend who never really spoke to me after I was two hours late to her formal for secret reasons I’ve never divulged.
I wonder if he’s divulged them to her. No, why would they even have talked about me? I belong firmly in Drew’s past.
“Evie the photographer?” Meg asks. “The Pictures of You exhibition?”
Maybe the story he gave her wasn’t all bad.
“Oh my God, we idolized you at my school!” she gushes. “Smashing the patriarchy, one boys’ school at a time!”
I laugh. That’s exaggerating it slightly. “It really wasn’t all me. And I’m not sure how much we really smashed.”
I think of being interviewed on the news with Oliver. I feel awkward even remembering the way that happened, and how Drew was sidelined after he’d done the lion’s share.
“Drew did all the work,” I explain hastily. “He made it happen.” I’d said so on camera, but they’d cut that bit from the interview.
“Your idea,” he reminds me.
“Good team?” Meg suggests.
Neither of us confirms or denies it before Oliver shows up, clearly irritated at encountering his nemesis. “Hello,” he says tersely. They shake hands, Oliver deliberately twisting his hand on top of Drew’s, asserting dominance, which for some reason makes me unspeakably angry. And embarrassed. “What brings you here?” he asks.
Drew throws his arm around Meg, drawing her to his side, triggering a massive smile. “This is Meg,” he says.
Oliver smiles at her. “Hello.” His tone is warm now—he can be so charming. “I’m Evie’s fiancé.”
Fiancé? I mean, yes, I’m wearing the ring, but only on trial, as we agreed.
Drew’s eyes drop to the diamond sparkling on my hand and I feel myself covering it with the certificate. He gulps his drink.
Meg’s eyes widen. “Ooh! When’s the big day?”
“We’re not rushing anything,” I explain, perhaps more quickly than I intended to. “In fact, technically—”
Oliver cuts me off. “She wants to establish her research first.”
Am I making things more difficult than they need to be? He makes it sound like I’ve taken up a PhD just to annoy him.
“Still mucking around with that camera?” he asks Drew. The condescension makes me cringe.
Meg snuggles in and places her hand on Drew’s chest proudly. My heart thumps. “Drew is an award-winning photographer!”
I’m instantly thrilled for him.
“Emerging photographer,” he corrects her, humble as ever.
“Shortlisted in the Australian Photography Awards,” she brags. “You should own it!”
I reach out to grip his arm. I remember his telling me about this award years ago, and how competitive it was.
His eyes fall to my left hand and its adornment on his forearm, and the muscles stiffen through the sleeve of his shirt. “Anyway, it was good to see you,” he says. “Congratulations, Evie. Meg—should we find your mum?”
She nods and slips her hand around his back. He does steal one final glance over his shoulder that doesn’t quite reach me as they walk away, and pieces of my heart break off as I lose sight of him in the crowd.
Lose sight of myself, really.