Chapter Twenty-One Clara
Chapter Twenty-One CLARA
‘If we stay near the entrance, surely he’ll have to pass by this way.’ I glance at Harry for approval and he shrugs.
‘I guess so? Unless there’s a secret celebrity entrance the special guests use.’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Negative thinking like that doesn’t help me, Haz.’ I feel snarly today and my irritatingly nice housemate with his irritatingly sweet face isn’t improving things. I’m not entirely sure why I invited him along to this event today.
A group of giggling women shoulder barge past me, all wearing the same sort of oversized trench coats.
I sigh. That’s why I invited Harry. Because Amanda wasn’t free and I have no other friends in the UK – or anywhere else if we’re being really horribly honest with ourselves – and you can’t turn up to a thing like this alone.
Not when you’re hoping to casually bump into a famous TV star.
I glance up and around, taking in the huge space, housing every kind of food and drink you can imagine.
It’s a massive annual festival and last week they started shouting about their special guest for the day: Milo Samuels, my future boyfriend slash husband.
He’s here along with a couple of his co-stars from Book Boyfriend , promoting the series, and I’m fully sure we’re going to fall head over heels for one another. Never mind what Jemma says.
I swipe at a passing tray of shots, grabbing a freebie for me and Harry. We both down the oddly creamy blue liquid, wincing in sync at the taste.
‘Well, at the very least, we’re right by the free samples area,’ I point out, feeling the warmth of alcohol passing through me. Whatever that blue stuff was, it was strong.
Harry checks his watch. ‘When is Jemma meant to get here?’ he asks, and his eyes narrow when he catches my expression. ‘Clara!’ he continues accusingly. ‘You said Jemma was coming along!’
I give him a shrug. ‘I invited her but she hates me.’
Harry sighs. ‘She doesn’t hate you. And you can’t lie to me like that! I really thought Jemma was coming – I was excited for a house outing with you guys.’
I smile wryly. ‘You like her!’ I accuse, with a finger in his face. He blushes deeply.
‘No, no,’ he stutters, looking away with embarrassment. ‘We’re friends, housemates, that’s it.’
‘Sure, sure,’ I grin, knowing better and amused by his bashfulness. ‘I really think she likes you, too, though, for the record.’
‘You do?’ Is that hope I can hear in his voice?
‘Definitely.’ I grab for another tray of drinks. These are clear. ‘Drink up,’ I instruct Harry, who obliges.
‘Hey, Clara, I really think you two need to try to make things better between you,’ he says after a moment, and I notice his voice is a little slurred.
How many free samples have we had so far? A lot. We should maybe find some food. And Milo Samuels, of course. The reason we’re here. Where is he? Maybe I should ask someone before I have too many more of these free shots.
Harry’s still speaking. ‘I just mean, you’re sisters – twins! – you should be best friends, shouldn’t you? Isn’t that how it works? All the twins on TV are best friends.’
I side-eye him. ‘Don’t ever mention Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield in front of Jemma, OK? She hates that everyone used to say she was the Elizabeth.’
Harry considers this. ‘Better than being the Danny DeVito to your Arnold Schwarzenegger.’ I snort at the imagery from Twins .
‘That is defo true,’ I admit, speaking too loudly.
‘But, as Jemma would point out, we’re not even proper twins!
Proper twins are one egg that splits into two.
Originally one person! We’re fraternal twins, which means we were two eggs.
We’re just sisters that ended up in the womb at the same time. It’s inconvenient, is what it is.’
‘Still!’ he cries. He’s also speaking too loudly. ‘You should be super close!’
‘Says who?’ I turn to him, almost spilling another drink I don’t remember getting.
This one is a graded sunset of oranges and pink.
‘Why do people act like it’s some travesty that me and my twin aren’t close?
It’s an accident of birth that we’re even connected.
Just because we spent nine months huddled together twenty-eight years ago doesn’t mean we share anything!
In fact, I’m pretty sure we spent a lot of those months mostly kicking one another in the head’ I lean into Harry’s face and my brain takes a second to catch up.
‘See this wonky nose, Haz?’ I jab at it, mostly missing.
‘I’m pretty sure she elbowed me when I was growing it, and caused this shittiness.
She is the reason I have a bad sense of smell.
’ He gives me an amused look and I sigh.
‘Whatever. Anyway, she’s the one who hates me.
Believe me, I’ve tried to make things better.
’ The look comes again. ‘I have !’ My voice is exasperated.
‘She thinks I’m an attention-seeking party girl, with no depth.
’ I pause. ‘And so what if I am? What’s so wrong with that?
Who am I hurting? I don’t have any kids or pets.
Why can’t I spend my twenties – and maybe my thirties – enjoying some shallow fun? ’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t think she hates you, I think you just need to—’
I cut him off. ‘Don’t tell me what I just need to.
’ I’m a bit annoyed now. I’ve barely known this guy for a couple of months and he thinks he knows me?
He thinks he knows what me and Jemma have been through?
Like he can solve us just like that? ‘You don’t have a clue, so just stop, OK?
Leave it alone, because you are the last person I would ever take advice from.
Yes, you invested in my upcycling business when I needed help, and I appreciate that, but that doesn’t mean you get a say in my life.
You don’t know anything, you’re just a boy. ’
There is a second of awkward silence and then Harry speaks.
‘I’m getting kind of sick of the way you talk to me sometimes.
’ His tone is serious, more serious than I’ve heard from him, ever.
I whip around to take in the new Harry. He is slightly fuzzy round the edges but the geeky pushover-ness I’m semi-fond of has been replaced by a glowering bad boy that I suddenly… want.
For a moment we glare at one another. And then – out of nowhere – we’re lunging at each other, kissing without warning.
It is hazy and messy, our hands pawing at one another in the murky gloom of this corner.
Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I am shocked by how good it feels to have Harry’s tongue in my mouth.
He is a great kisser. But it only takes one more second to realize this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
I know Harry likes Jemma and I know she likes him.
I’m being the selfish, thoughtless person she always says I am.
Taking something I have no right to take.
But the booze.
How much can I blame on the booze?
‘Stop, stop!’ I pull away at last, panting. ‘I’m sorry, that was so dumb. I’m really, really drunk and this was a massive mistake.’
He nods, breathless, eyes blurry and unfocused. ‘We’re both just pissed,’ he murmurs. ‘Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.’
‘Right.’ I nod, looking away, feeling the creeping horror in my stomach.
I mean, god , I’ve made some foolish drunken snoggy mistakes in the past – believe me – but this is next level. I’ve really fucked up.
‘Um, I’m going to find Milo.’ I stand up, slightly woozy on my feet. ‘You, er, stay here and I’ll…’ I don’t bother finishing the sentence, staggering away in search of the man I actually want to snog.
Oh god, I kissed Harry. Harry. What was I thinking?
It was the worst, stupidest thing to do for so many reasons.
Firstly, Harry has become my friend in these last few weeks.
He’s my nerdy, posh boy pal and I genuinely like him.
But I don’t fancy him. He’s like a walking pair of cargo shorts and he clearly sees me as a vacuous directionless moron with good hair.
He’s never said that thing about my hair, but it’s undeniably good and he has eyes.
Secondly, I really, really think him and Jemma would make a great couple and that they would make each other happy.
That dumb snog neither of us even wanted may have totally ruined that.
And third – C – it has been pointed out to me that I have a bad habit of looking for validation from men when I am feeling insecure.
I have been trying not to do this since I got back from America.
I cannot fall back into bad habits. I can’t let what happened over there happen here. Just when things are looking up.
Oh, and D! I have also betrayed my beloved Milo Samuels. He’s out there waiting for me; waiting for our epic, sweeping, telenovela romance to start, and I’m over here pre-cheating on him with a pal I don’t even fancy.
Ugghhhh! Right, that’s it. From here on out, I’m going to be strong.
Strong like Jemma. I’m going to be level-headed and sensible.
I’m not going to get off with inappropriate people, or look for comfort in the wrong places.
I’m going to be Zen and nun-like, and definitely, definitely not keep fucking everything up.
I lean on an outside bar for a moment, helping myself to another free shot and giving the barman a thumbs up. Then I open Tinder on my phone and swipe yes to the next fifty profiles, watching the matches ding ding ding in my notifications.
Maybe just a couple more fuck-ups.
I send a message to the first vaguely hot guy to DM me, suggesting we meet up for a drink tonight, and then I turn to go.
I need to get out of this place and away from Harry.
I need to get off with someone who isn’t Harry so I can pretend it never happened.
I need to drink so much I don’t even remember doing it, so then I can’t be a bad person.
I need to find something to distract me from what a shitty person I really am.
And that’s when I crash right into my future husband, Milo Samuels.