Chapter 25 – Thomas
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thomas
I leave Clover’s bedroom just before she wakes up.
It takes everything not to kiss her and even more not to walk three doors down to Sylvia’s room and tell her off.
She has a boyfriend. Not just any boyfriend, a secret boyfriend and she doesn’t want us to know who he is, but she has given us “clues”.
It’s hardly a confession, but it’s better than nothing and at least it distracted her from what she saw.
I wanted something to happen between us so badly.
Clover isn’t so easy to wear down. She’s cautious with me.
She wasn’t cautious with Kit or Jude. Why not?
I wonder if either of them know Sylvia’s secret. ’
Women are better secret-keepers than men. Maybe her new beau talked to someone. Bloody hell, I don’t particularly care, but Amina would kill me if I let anything happen to her sister. I owe her and I owe Crispin too much to let some bloke mess with Sylvia’s head and keep her a secret on the side.
“I can’t help if you find out,” Sylvia said last night. “But I can’t tell you myself.”
At least it takes the eye off me and Clover.
I re-enter my bedroom through the window to find Kit sleeping in my bed.
Naked. With whipped cream on his bare chest. What the fuck did he get into last night?
As I thud onto the ground, he makes a groggy groan and awakens by rolling over, getting the whipped cream on my bloody sheets.
“You’re washing those.”
“Morning, Tommo.”
“Get off my bed.”
“Where have you been?”
“Nowhere.”
I haven’t told him about Clover and I don’t feel the need to report to Kit about girls. He’s bloody obsessed with sex now and he would only make things weird. I search through my closet for a fresh uniform. I’m starving.
“I’ll wash your sheets later,” Kit yawns. “Grab my sweater?”
“Get it yourself.”
The lazy arsehole rolls himself out of bed and does an incredibly weak job of wiping away the whipped cream with his t-shirt. I strip my bed and drop the bedding onto his pile of laundry. I expect fresh sheets by the end of practice.
“Breakfast?” Kit grumbles after picking up a worn uniform from his bedroom floor and putting it back on.
“Cheers.”
I don’t have time to brush my hair, so I fluff it out a bit and crack my back. I didn’t really want to sleep on the floor. I wanted her. Her bed. Her arms. I hate this feeling.
“I need to fuck with Clover today,” Kit says on his way to breakfast. Seriously? I thought he was at least over her. She’d better be over him.
“Why?”
“Why not? I lost her knickers and I need payback. She humiliated me.”
“How?”
“Never mind,” Kit says. “Are you going to help me, or not?”
I don’t know if I can. Clover and I have to sort out this blackmail situation.
She sent me ￡500 electronically and I sorted out where the whispering bench was from her description.
Perhaps I can catch a glimpse of whoever might be messaging us.
They would have to be watching fairly closely.
Whoever it is — they’ll slip up eventually.
She doesn’t want me watching her all day, but that’s impossible. If there’s any truth to the emails, I need to pay close attention. I also need to pay close attention to Sylvia.
“Are you dating Sylvia?” I ask him.
“What?” Kit asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
“You heard me.”
“Jealous?”
“I’m serious.”
“Fuck no. I’m not like Crispin. I can’t get away with that. If there’s one thing that would bring dad running back from Vienna, it’s shagging an American.”
I don’t bother pointing out that he heavily implied that he already shagged an American — Clover. Perhaps she was telling the truth. At least Kit doesn’t bring up revenge on Clover again, so I consider him successfully distracted and talk to him about rowing instead.
We enter the dining hall and I half expect to see her there. She isn’t. She’s probably in her bedroom with her knickers on, trotting over to her closet to put on her skirt. Her arse looks incredible in that skirt.
I have a bloody problem. I spend too much time staring at her and imagining all the things I want to do to her. If I wasn’t so lost in my fantasy of her… I’d realize that she doesn’t like me at all. I don’t deserve her liking me, I get that.
I still want her.
Jude sits at the rowing table already with a spread of eggs and bacon in front of him. No carbs in sight.
“G’morning,” he grunts. “What are you stupid fucks doing up so early?”
Typical Fox.
After I’m done eating, I want to go to the whispering bench, but I can’t help worrying about Clover.
She must still be in her bedroom if she hasn’t eaten yet.
I make some stupid excuse to Kit about Ethics homework and wander over towards the girls’ dorm.
I tell myself I’m not going to Clover’s window and apparently, I’m not.
Halfway to the girls’ dorm, a short girl with glasses bounds over to me, her backpack bouncing.
I think I recognize her…
“Thomas!” she gasps. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Er… yes.”
“It’s Molly. We met?”
Fuck, she seems proper offended and now that she says it, we’ve definitely met.
“Right.”
Do we have any classes together? Fuck, I feel stupid for not remembering.
“I’m Clover’s roommate. She’s told me about you.”
“Uh… she has?”
“Yeah. She thinks you’re fit and everything.”
I wrinkle my nose. I struggle to believe that Clover ‘thinks I’m fit’ or that she would talk about me at all.
“Cool.”
“So um… do you mind walking me to breakfast, or are you busy?”
Fuck. I can’t exactly tell her where I was going, can I?
Plus, she seems like a sweet girl. Bit awkward, but nothing I can’t handle.
I shrug and nod, even if I’ve already eaten.
Clover still hasn’t eaten, right? So I can exercise the tiniest bit of restraint (which I hate) and wait until I see her at breakfast. This gives me an excuse to sit in the dining hall a bit longer.
Restraint. So far, I’ve been completely incapable of restraining myself around her.
Last night only worked because of Sylvia barging in and reminding me that I ought to at least try to have a conscience.
I think I had one before Amelia. I must have.
I’m the only brother Violet talks to on a regular basis, so I can’t be all bad if my annoying older sister thinks I’ve got a shot at decency.
I don’t think she talks to dad anymore, but I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to deal with anything related to the divorce.
I get to breakfast with Molly and the crew team still eating breakfast whistles as we walk in together.
Considering my recent excuse, Kit gives me a puzzled look and I shrug.
Plans change, Barclay. Deal with it. Molly grabs my hand and drags me to a two person table.
It’s weird that she touched my hand. Girls don’t touch boys like that.
I sit across from her and she plops down, grinning at me.
“Aren’t you going to get any food?” I ask her.
“Just coffee.”
“Okay.”
She smiles at me for an uncomfortably long time and then she trots off, returning with a coffee that looks like it’s entirely milk.
“What about you?”
“Already ate,” I answer.
“Oh. Cool. Nervous?”
“About what?”
I fight away the half smile teasing at the corner of my lips. Does she have a crush or something? Awfully bold of her what she’s doing and she doesn’t look like the sort. I don’t mind weird girls, but I don’t have a clue what to say to Molly..
“School. Sports. Everything.”
“Not really a nervous person.”
“I see.”
I glance over my shoulder towards the door and lose focus on Molly.
Clover’s here finally with Sylvia and their other black friend, Kola.
They look so gloriously different from everyone here that the entire room turns to look everywhere they go.
I like being invisible, but Clover looks good in a spotlight.
I’m just glad she’s here. Anything could happen before I get rid of that money. I want to keep a good eye on her.
Molly clears her throat. When I turn to face her, she twists her face into a dramatic frown.
“It’s not polite to leer at women, Thomas.”
“Er… sorry…” I feel like I’m about to get a lecture from Vi.
Molly gets to her feet and grabs her coffee, angrily storming off.
Did I do something? Clover catches my attention and I wave at her.
She doesn’t wave back. Fuck’s sake, what have I done now?
Hasn’t she punished me enough for being a pervert?
I just want her attention.
* * *