Chapter 15
TORI
I don’t know when my life turned into this soap opera where I’ve been kissed within the space of a few weeks by my crush and my best friend.
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience as I step out of the dark theatre.
Rays of sunlight are falling through the windows of the north wing, and the others are chatting.
They walk away. I stop. Their voices grow quieter as the last of them disappears round the corner, and I’m left there on my own.
What now? Should I wait for Sinclair? What did Mr Acevedo want to talk to him about anyway? It was obvious that Sinclair’s mind wasn’t on the job. And we both know why. Even though it’s starting to feel like what happened back there on the stage was nothing but a crazy fever dream.
But it was a kiss. No, that’s not true. A kiss sounds so harmless.
It was way more. They were kisses, plural.
It was passion, out of control. It was the thing I’ve been fantasizing about in so many fake scenarios that I’d forgotten how intense reality can be.
Real touches, catching breath. I didn’t want it to stop.
That moment when he just kissed me felt like the first day of my life.
‘Tori.’
No.
Not now . . .
I turn to face him, forgetting to slap on a smile.
Val frowns as he comes closer. Judging by his clothing and sports bag, he’s come straight from either rugby or the gym.
‘What’s up?’
A guilty conscience expressed in the form of stomach cramps, that’s what’s up, my dear Valentine.
If he knew, oh, God, if he had even the faintest inkling of what I was doing just now.
Did I cheat on him? I did, right? So am I now no better than all the women in all the books who made me so angry because they went against my principles?
Why did nobody ever tell me how easily a thing like that can happen?
Especially when it’s the person you’ve wanted to kiss for so long.
And are Val and I an official couple now or not?
Is this a relationship? Is it a game? Who knows?
Because every time I think I’ve worked it out, it slips away from me like a bar of wet soap.
‘Not much.’ My voice sounds an octave too high, but Val doesn’t seem to have noticed. His eyes scan the theatre doors as he approaches. ‘We just finished. Mr Acevedo wanted to discuss something with me.’
Val makes an incomprehensible grunt and leans down to me. And then this day goes down in history as the one when I let two different guys kiss me maybe an hour apart.
‘What’s up with you?’ I ask, as he lets me go again. ‘Rugby?’
‘Been to the gym to let off a bit of steam,’ he says curtly, taking my hand. Normally I’d ask why, but I don’t dare just now. Val’s skin is warm but not as soft as Sinclair’s. I follow him unresistingly and I have no idea where we’re headed. ‘So, what’ve you been up to?’
I stiffen slightly. ‘What do you mean?’
Val’s eyes rest on me. ‘Your day? How’s it been, what’ve you been up to?’
‘Good, I . . . Why do you ask?’
‘We haven’t seen each other for ages. And I’m trying to take an interest. To be attentive. Or is that wrong too now?’
‘No.’ I breathe deeply. ‘It’s great.’ Smile. ‘Really.’
‘What are you doing later?’
‘Don’t know yet. I should make more content for Insta and TikTok, and I haven’t done any reading since the start of the week either.’
‘You can read when you’re old and ugly.’
‘Hey.’
‘It’s true. You should get out and live a little. Have fun, party. We’ll be down in the Dungeon after wing time. You’ll come, won’t you?’
I don’t answer. Val stops, and because he’s holding my hand, I have to as well.
‘Oh, I . . . The others were talking about maybe having a midnight party in the old greenhouse,’ I say, remembering that Emma and Henry had been messaging our Midnight Memories group chat earlier.
Val laughs. ‘Come to us then, save yourself from that nursery-school stuff. I mean, midnight party . . . How old are you? Twelve?’
I bite back the remark that Val and his friends had had their parties in the old greenhouse until less than a year ago. Like everyone in the fifth and lower sixth. School tradition. The old greenhouse is ours and the upper sixth have the undercroft beneath the school for their territory.
‘I’ll have to see,’ I say evasively. ‘I’ve been kind of short on sleep in the last few weeks.’
‘Tori, you do realize I’ve only got a few weeks left here?’ Val drops my hand. ‘A levels start soon and then I’ll leave. And you’d seriously rather hide in your room, reading, instead of having a good time with me and the others?’
‘Of course I want to have a good time with you.’
But I’d rather spend time with my friends.
And my best friend, so that I can find out if that kiss just now was more of an accident or something genuine.
Either way, it means that I can’t do this with Val any more.
Maybe it was the sign I needed to tell me that being with him will never be enough. But how do you tell someone that?
I’m just so fucking unsure of myself around you.
Val’s voice, his penetrating stare every time I’ve reassured him, yet again, that there’s nothing between me and Sinclair.
He didn’t believe me, and in the end he was right.
I thought he was pathologically jealous, but maybe he wasn’t.
It was all me, because I’m evidently a bad person.
Val’s looking so expectantly at me that I feel kind of ill. This matters to him. I matter to him. I have to tell him. And better sooner than later. I could try to speak to him alone this evening, and then his friends would be around if he took it badly. God, I can’t . . . But what choice do I have?
‘After wing time?’ I begin.
Val’s eyes gleam with hope. He nods. ‘Half ten, eleven, thereabouts. You in? I’ll pick you up.’
‘I’ll find my own way down,’ I say. Val frowns. ‘Don’t want anyone to catch you. Ms Barnett hears everything.’
‘Yeah, OK.’ He nods.
And I don’t want Emma or anyone to find out that I’m meeting Val instead of going to our midnight party.
I could come on later. Once I’ve done what needs doing.
It’ll be better if I’m not on my own in my room then, because my gut tells me that Val might react kind of unpleasantly.
With reason. What I’ve done is kind of unpleasant too. Unforgivable even.
‘Perfect.’ Val smiles and stops on the corner of the cloister before heading to his wing. ‘I need a shower.’
He eyes me, slowly. My breasts, my belly, down to my legs.
Have I overlooked something? When Val looks back to my face, there’s something in his eyes that’s making me nervous.
Something dark and impenetrable and unsettling.
It makes me want to run. Now, right now, far away.
To some place where I can hide from this whole stupid mess.
With Sinclair. So he can pick up where we got interrupted.
‘See you later.’ My lips feel numb as I turn away. My steps are hasty. I’m not thinking, just walking to the west wing. It’s not until I get to my room that I dare breathe properly again.
I shut the door, listen to the silence. And then I lift a hand slowly to my lips and touch them.
The way Sinclair touched them earlier. With his lips.
For the second time in my life. But this time it was him who started it.
It wasn’t in a dark school corridor. It was on a stage.
OK, so we were our own entire audience, but that doesn’t matter.
He kissed me. He leaned in without a second’s hesitation.
I shut my eyes.
But was it really Sinclair kissing Tori, or Romeo seducing Juliet? Was he still in character? Was he thinking about Eleanor?
He said your name . . .
Yes, he really did. I didn’t imagine that. No way.
My phone lights up but it’s only Gideon asking a question in Midnight Memories.
Should I text Sinclair or wait for him to text me? It would probably be better to talk face to face. About whatever. Then I’ll be able to tell him I’ve broken up with Val. And then I need to know what that kiss meant. If it was serious. The very thought sets my entire body tingling.
I walk around the room. My bed looks tempting, but I can’t sit or lie down now.
I have to do something to take my mind off the conversations I’ve got to have later on.
I could rearrange my bookshelves. They started out with the spines in rainbow order but that’s got so messed up there’s not much of it left.
Every time I’ve finished with my photos or videos in the last few weeks, I’ve just shoved piles of them in wherever they’d fit.
The mess has been kind of bugging me but I’ve never got around to doing anything about it. Until now.
My thoughts are still whirling as I stack books on my bed and my desk.
I’m antsy enough that I even dust the empty shelf with a damp cloth.
My phone’s within sight but Sinclair doesn’t text, and with every passing minute, I get angrier.
There’s no way he’s been held back this long by Mr Acevedo.
And it really would be a good idea to talk about that kiss.
Or was it really only a Romeo-kissing-Juliet kiss, and he’s not wasting another thought on it? God, I’m losing my mind.
I’ve finished about half the shelf when there’s a knock at the door. My heart skips a beat, but before I can start to panic, I hear Emma’s voice outside: ‘Coming to dinner?’
I shove the pile of books in my hand into their new place, turn down the volume on the speaker and go to the door.
Emma eyes me expectantly as I open it.
I nod and turn away again. ‘Yeah, hang on.’
Emma follows me into my room without waiting to be asked. ‘Hey, Hot Guy Shit. That can only mean one thing.’
‘Which is?’
‘You’re reorganizing again.’
‘Only the books.’ I stop the music and slip my shoes on as Emma picks up a book. ‘You should so read that,’ I say.
‘She’s your favourite, right?’ she asks, turning it over to skim the blurb.