Chapter Twenty
Prom was shit.
I hated my dress, the DJ was awful, and the whole thing felt like a waste of time. But then Ren and I ended up outside the hotel, just the two of us, talking for ages. Making stupid jokes about which teachers were definitely shagging and how Pete Jones looked constipated when he danced.
‘He goes so red and puffs out his cheeks,’ Ren said, flicking ash on to the pavement.
Yeah. He was smoking like an idiot. I blame the flask I’d been sipping from because I asked him why he was out here instead of with Lindsey. He shrugged and asked me the same thing – why wasn’t I with Tim?
I didn’t know what he meant. Tim asked. And I turned him down.
Ren went quiet, staring at the ground as he tapped his cigarette. Finally, he said something like, ‘Lindsey told me you were going with him.’
Before I could stop myself, I snorted and said, ‘Well, Lindsey was wrong. She probably just wanted you all for herself.’
Ren’s head tilted slightly, and he gave me this strange look. Like he was studying me, trying to work something out. Then he flicked his stupid cigarette away, shoved his hands in his pockets, and said, ‘I wish I’d asked you instead.’
And then it was my turn to go quiet. I always wondered if we’d ever cross the line between friends and… something else. I think I’ve already crossed it. And I’m ready to admit it. But he won’t.
So I just laughed it off and said, ‘Yeah, well. You didn’t.’
Lydia
‘So, do you do massages?’ James wiggled his eyebrows.
My phone vibrated, making my heart lurch into my throat.
Ren had called and texted a few times since we got back from Wales.
I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I was confused, shaken.
I didn’t know where we stood. We hadn’t just kissed this time – he’d made me unravel in ways I’d been trying to forget for years – and I had no idea how I was supposed to forget that a second time around.
I glanced at my phone. It wasn’t Ren. It was that damn NO CALLER ID again. I hit the red button and returned to the infinitely dull man in front of me who was chattering on, oblivious to the fact I was barely listening.
James had latched himself on to me since the beginning of the singles night, when his mate nudged him and angled his head towards me. He shrugged and wandered over.
Pure romance.
I took a gulp of Prosecco and grimaced. It was warm and flat.
The social club was heaving, packed with a mixture of people between 25 and 35, the age range outlined in the guidelines Pat had typed up on the Eventbrite page.
Cheesy noughties music played over the speakers and, as James droned on, I stared at the back of Amy’s head, as she chatted away to a hippy with baggy trousers and a man bun.
Amy’s cropped pink hair glowed under the bar lights.
I wished that we could ditch and have a proper girls’ night.
But Amy had been looking forward to it, and I had committed to the night when I was newly single.
At the time I’d thought, Why not? What did I have to lose?
Well, nothing. Because at this point I was repeatedly banging my head against rock bottom.
I still had no job, no flat, and the icing on the cake?
I was stupid enough to sleep with my best friend.
Again. What made it worse was I was trying and failing not to think about said best friend, the memory of coming apart on his lips, and the fact that he was texting a woman called Lexi. A woman he had never mentioned before.
My mouth tasted bitter, and suspiciously like jealousy. It was pathetic. I was, yet again, at the mercy of how Ren made me feel.
‘What about a sports massage?’ James asked, those eyebrows going again. His breath smelled like stale lager. ‘I’ve got a terrible pain in my shoulder. And I wouldn’t mind a rub down.’
‘I’m a personal trainer. Not a masseuse,’ I said flatly.
I refused to make this man more comfortable by laughing off his shit joke.
James worked in finance, wore a quarter-zip, and when I asked if he lived in Everly Heath, he said, ‘Oh, God, no! I could never live anywhere like this. I live in the city centre. I’m from High Wycombe, originally.
But London was so expensive, you know? So I bought a flat in Manchester.
You know the one right above Gail’s?’ He took a sip of his drink.
‘I’m only out here ’cos my mate thought it would be a good laugh. Get to know some of the locals.’
He said ‘locals’ as if we were zoo animals. If it wasn’t already over, it was over then, but I hadn’t had a chance to shake him off yet.
‘Do you do discounted rates for mates?’ James wiggled his brows again.
I took another sip of the Prosecco, hoping it would knock me out.
James launched into a monologue about cryptocurrency, and I nodded every now and then. Across the room, Amy caught my eye, winced, and mouthed Sorry! over the man bun’s shoulder. James was on to NFTs when I heard a voice.
A deep, familiar voice.
My stomach did a flip.
‘Mind if I cut in?’
My head snapped up and there he was.
Ren stood there, name badge crooked on his chest. His eyes locked on mine. I hadn’t clocked that James was short. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But next to Ren – who was looking tall, broad, and a little intimidating right now – well, James just looked… puny.
Ren’s gaze pinned me in place.
James spluttered, ‘We were just talking—’
‘You were talking,’ he said, voice calm. ‘She was falling asleep.’
My lips parted. James’s eyebrows went up into his soon-to-be-receding hairline.
Ren finally looked at James. ‘Look, mate, I’m going to offer you some advice. Women – or anyone, really – don’t want to hear you drone on about your investments in little pictures, okay?’
James frowned. ‘They’re digital assets—’
Ren leaned down, voice low. ‘And we all know they’re worth fuck all.’
James opened his mouth, then closed it again. Like a fish. God, I almost felt bad for the guy. Then I remembered the massage comment and pulled myself together.
‘Ren.’ I caught his sleeve, fingers wrapping around his biceps. The smug bastard flexed it under my hand.
His eyes met mine, fiery and intense.
‘Am I wrong, Lydia?’
Silence.
Then I realised it wasn’t just me that was silent. I glanced behind me. Every single eye in the social club was on us. My mum, Pat, Amy. Even Peter, who was a miserable curmudgeon at the best of times and couldn’t give a toss about anyone else’s drama.
They were all watching.
I grabbed Ren by the arm, pulling him away from James towards a quiet corner of the social club by the loos.
I rounded on him and jabbed my finger at his chest. ‘What the hell was that?’
His eyes flared as he looked down to where I touched him, then back to me.
‘I know. He was a prick.’
‘No. You. What are you doing here?’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’ve been dodging my texts. And calls.’
My cheeks flushed with heat. He was right. I was avoiding him. After I saw the message from a LEXI MEXICO, it was like something cracked open. All these deep-seated insecurities I’d carefully packed away came tumbling out. Things I thought I’d buried. Things I didn’t want to admit.
I was jealous.
And I hated it. Hated the way it made me feel. I hated that my first instinct was to snap ‘Who the fuck is Lexi?’ at him. It was immature. Childish. And a sign that I wasn’t feeling secure. Not in this, us or even myself.
‘Can we talk?’ Ren said, his voice low, his hands reaching out to touch me, but I dodged him. I knew I would crack if I let his hands on me again.
‘This isn’t the time or place to have this discussion, Ren.’
‘Lydia.’ Ren’s voice was low, and strained. He took a step forward. I took a step back. I hit the cool wall behind me. Ren’s eyes tracked me, my eyes, my lips. The scent of him surrounded me.
‘I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. You won’t even look at me. And after everything that happened that night, in the tent—’
It was far too public to have this conversation.
I turned on my heel, heading for the exit, knowing that he was right behind me. Outside, the balmy air hit my face. The high street was quiet, the deli, butcher’s and hardware shop were all closed for the night.
‘There is nothing wrong,’ I lied. I crossed my arms, facing him, doing my best at looking defiant.
Ren’s eyes narrowed and he called my bluff. He stepped closer, chest brushing my shoulder. The heat of him sank into me and I flushed even at that tiny contact.
Ren’s voice was low, sultry. ‘Fine. Then you won’t mind me talking about that night. When I made you come apart with my fingers and—’
My hand shot over his mouth, even as my body flared with heat. His chuckle rumbled against my skin. He caught my wrist, turned it, pressing a soft kiss to my pulse.
Jesus, he shouldn’t be allowed to be this lethal.
‘Talk to me, Lyd,’ Ren said softly. ‘Did I hurt you?’
I pulled my hand back. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Then what is it?’ He reached for me again, but I stepped away.
‘You don’t get to do this,’ I said, hands fisted at my side. ‘You don’t get to come in here, all guns blazing. All jealous—’
‘Of course I’m jealous!’ His hands went to his hair.
‘I’m jealous of anyone who gets to speak to you when you’re icing me out.
I’m jealous of the way you laugh so freely with your friends, because I can see the way you hold back around me.
I’m jealous of the fact that you are more than comfortable enough to come to a singles night, while I’m at home losing my mind wondering why you won’t answer my calls. ’
Losing his mind? He’s losing his mind about the fact I won’t text him back, when he has some random woman trying to call him in the early hours of the morning.
I couldn’t keep a lid on my temper any more.
The words came out, harsh and forceful, like a full stop.
‘Who is Lexi?’
Ren’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes shifted.
‘Lexi? Why—’
‘She texted you. I saw it on your phone that night we shared the tent.’