Chapter 12
We went from one hundred to zero in the space of five minutes. It’s been almost a week since our date, and I’ve barely had the opportunity to ask if she’s feeling better, let alone to see it for myself. I might believe I had something to do with it if she wasn’t also avoiding everyone else. At first, I wanted to give her space, but now I’m aching with the fear I’m being shut out again. I’ve been given the silent treatment before, by Eliza, and it all could have been prevented if we’d just talked, so I’m not going to let today end without a conversation.
I finishhosting the trivia in time to catch the last few minutes of Eliza’s performance in the cocktail lounge. Harvey’s got one of the best seats in the house, dead centre at the back of the room. I’m sure he’d be sitting in the front row if it wasn’t for him being an employee and not a paying guest. I’m surprised to see Megan out, but I’m glad she’s facing her agoraphobia to show up for Eliza.
Damn, I love formal nights. Megan’s in a tight black dress, which is probably knee-length, but while she’s sitting down it ends halfway up her thigh, and the slit in the side fills my head with all kinds of dirty thoughts.
At the end of the song I sneak in, taking the open spot next to Megan on the blue crushed velvet loveseat. It’s a snug fit, and she pretends to adjust, but I swear she shuffles up a tiny bit closer to me. I place my hand by my side and test the water by letting my knuckles brush her bare thigh. She doesn’t shrink away. Instead, she wraps her left arm around her waist, letting her wrist drop to her side, and she finds my fingers, tangles hers in them, and squeezes tightly.
Oh, thank God. She still wants me. Despite hiding from me, she still wants me. I’ll take mixed messages over no messages at all. I steal a glance at Harvey, but he’s too transfixed on his girlfriend to notice. No surprises there.
Eventually, we have to pull away to applaud Eliza, and when her performance comes to an end, the three of us slip away, leaving her to work the room.
There was never any question we’d be going all out for Eliza’s birthday. I think she was nervous no one would make a fuss, though, so she started trying to organise something herself, and we quickly realised the only way we were going to pull off a surprise party was if we threw it three weeks early.
By the time Eliza arrives, we’ve transformed hers and Harvey’s room into the ultimate slumber-party hideout. Mattresses line the floor – everyone dragged them down the hall earlier – the “Mean Girls” soundtrack is playing on a speaker, and the three of us, plus Jack, Cora, Finn, and our relatively new entertainment friend, Imka, are all wearing our cutest PJ sets and the silliest slippers we could find online. We’ve got a nail bar, a face-mask station, a friendship-bracelet kit, a Victoria sponge cake, shiny balloons, and a huge banner. My idea to set off confetti cannons as she arrived was shut down the second I suggested it, but I think Eliza would have loved to walk into a glittery reception. Maybe Harvey had a point that the tidy up afterwards wouldn’t have been much of a gift…
Eventually, Eliza works through her shock. “You know it’s not today, though, right?”
Harvey wraps his arm around her and promises we know, and Megan hands her a gift straight away – a new pyjama set patterned with stars and moons – so she can go change and relax into her party.
“What? It’s my favourite.”
I’m floored – not only by Jack’s confession, but also by the new meaning behind the tattoo on his chest that reads “Tomorrow”, which he’s currently baring for me.
“Your favourite movie is about singing orphans. Is that irony? I don’t even know.”
He smirks. “Call it a dark sense of humour.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Annie” won the vote for the movie tonight, but it was rigged from the start. I’m the only one in attendance who couldn’t give a damn about people singing and dancing their every thought and feeling. The only reason I don’t demand a recount is because my favour can be bought very easily with candy and popcorn.
Harvey and Eliza are cuddled up on one side of their bed, Cora and Imka on the other, and the rest of us are on our mattresses on the floor. There was meant to be a sleeping plan. I was going to be by the wall, with Jack next to me, and Megan should’ve been all the way on the other side of the room. Except Jack came along and ruined it by pulling Megan’s bed over beside his earlier in the evening so she could braid his hair more comfortably.
Which was all part of the plan…
Instead of the movie, I focus on finishing off my friendship bracelet for Jack. It’s going to spell “brothers”. It’s already hard to make a bracelet when you’re not creatively inclined, and even harder still in the dark, but nevertheless, I persist. It’s not only serving as a distraction from the film, but also from the fact Harvey made Eliza a bracelet with iridescent beads that read “cricket”, whatever that means.
I lose my grip on the string while trying to thread the last letter through it, and I don’t miss the snicker that comes from my left, on the other side of Jack, as half the beads fall into the kit on my lap. Megan’s not as focused on the movie as the others either, finding more entertainment in watching me struggle. I pick out what I think are my letters and rebuild the lost half of the bracelet.
While some bald guy sings about New York City I fasten the bracelet around Jack’s wrist, pleased with my handiwork. Then I pull out my phone and type a message to Megan on the Notes app, keeping the promise I made to myself.
What’s been going on?
I’m not messing about with open questions. Something’s up, and I think I deserve at least a little bit of an explanation. I summon the courage to pass my phone to her and anxiously wait to see what she’ll reply, or if she’ll decide to reply at all.
To my relief, she types something out and hands the phone back over.
Something happened in the bathroom at the hotel. I thought I might have to leave.
I type fast, refusing to prioritise my feelings over the possibility of her leaving abruptly, because my pain means nothing if she’s in pain too.
Me: Did someone hurt you?
Megan: No. But it scared me.
Me: Why did you stay?
I peer over, spying the first word of her next sentence: Oscar… Then her thumb hits delete a few times.
Megan: It’s safer for me here. And I didn’t want to leave you.
Safer? There are questions I want to ask, but they’ll break the rule about me digging into her past. I consider ending the conversation there, but I owe it to myself to speak up, because those last few words don’t make me feel as comforted as they should.
Me: I spent all week thinking I did something wrong.
I watch as she reacts to my message, her head dipping with guilt. She types and hands back my phone, an apology written all over her face.
Megan: I’m really sorry.
I give her a half-smile, turn my phone off, and throw it on top of the sheets by my feet. I shuffle closer to Jack and weave my hand through the gap between his back and the bed to find Megan’s hand. We don’t let go of each other for the rest of the movie.
After an anarchic sequence involving Tim Curry chasing the redheaded kid up some kind of ladder into the sky, and her being saved by the unwound turban of a man in a helicopter – where do I even fucking begin? – the movie thankfully ends, and people start getting ready for bed.
Jack takes a moment to admire his bracelet. “Aw, thanks, buddy. But tell me why it says ‘broobies’.” He raises a curious eyebrow.
Ah, fuck it. It’s the thought that counts.
The last time I spent the night with Megan, I learnt she sticks her tongue out just a little while she brushes her teeth, and it’s cute as hell. Jack, on the other hand, is an animal. I’ve never seen someone so violently dedicated to oral hygiene.
“Elizabeth, sitting through that movie and not complaining was my birthday gift to you,” I tell her while puffing up my pillow and settling in. I got her a real gift, of course: a basket filled to the brim with American candy, snacks, sodas, and cereals, which I can’t wait to see her open on her real birthday.
She gasps and brings her clasped hands to her face sarcastically, like a cartoon. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. How did you know?”
“Did you have a good night?” I ask with more care.
“I did. Thank you for helping organise it all.”
We share a smile as I remember all the effort she went to when putting together my party last year.
“We should do something soon. Feels like ages since we’ve hung out properly,” she says.
“Yeah, absolutely. Wanna hit the arcade while everyone’s out tomorrow?”
Her smile widens. “I’d love that.”
Once the lights go out for good, it’s time to initiate phase two of the sleeping plan. Jack complains that he’s too hot and asks for the desk fan to be put on. The white noise is then loud enough to cover him swapping beds with Gem. Our covers overlap to make one, and she snuggles up against me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The knot that’s been in my stomach all week finally loosens. I place a hand on the crook of her neck, my thumb brushing over her cheek, and feel her smile. There she is, my Princess.
She goes to kiss me, but I pull away in the nick of time. I place a finger against her lips as if to say “shh”, and then she puts her finger against my lips too in understanding. Her hands skate over my bare chest, and I stroke her hair, so relieved to have her back in my arms. Needing more, I lean closer, brushing my nose against hers, and she nudges me back. I grip her tightly, the realisation dawning that I almost lost her. I wish I knew what happened. I want to understand so I can stop whatever it was from happening again. My fingers trail up her silk shirt and trace her skin. So warm. So soft. But it’s not enough – not after being starved of her touch all week. I remove my hands from under her shirt and find her collar, where the fabric dips, then slide down to the top button, tugging at it gently until it slips through the hole.
She makes no move to stop me, her hands taking their own liberties with the growing ache in my boxers. My fingers slip to the next button, then the next one, and the next one, until her shirt opens fully for me. Before I can stop her, she’s on top of me. I still, waiting for someone to question the sound of the movement, but no one does.
Her breasts brush against my chest as she settles against me, and warmth smothers my dick. If it wasn’t obvious before, it is now: it’s going to be some kind of torture to not take this any further. Maybe we could… No. There’s no way to do anything quietly, no way to clean up afterwards without waking the entire room, and all it would take is something as simple as someone checking their phone and busting us with the light of the screen. Not tonight. I shake my head, and I know she feels it as her hand is cradling it.
She buries her face in my neck and breathes me in as I do the same, and for a while we lie there together, until we eventually grow too tired and fall asleep next to each other.
I don’t know what time it is when I’m rudely awakened by a flick on the forehead, but I open my eyes to find Jack glaring at me with meaning. The fact I can see him at all should be enough for me to know we’re on the brink of being caught, but it’s the light spilling out from under the bathroom door that solidifies it.
I give Megan a gentler wake-up call than Jack gave me, and she stirs the same way I imagine a baby bunny would, all wrinkly-nosed and bleary-eyed. Before she can start moving, I find a piece of her open shirt and then try to find the other side, stopping her from going anywhere barely conscious and uncovered. She does up whatever buttons she can find and crawls over to Jack’s bed, and he takes care of swapping over their sheets and pillows.
All three of us flop and pretend to be asleep the second the latch on the bathroom door unlocks, as if someone shouted, “Andy’s coming!” It’s only Imka, though, and she probably wouldn’t have even spotted Megan in my bed without her glasses on, but better safe than sorry.
We wait for her to settle back down, and then something soft appears next to me, put there by Megan. Jack reaches it before I do, and the fact he doesn’t hand anything over confirms it’s his toy pig. He’s never told me why he can’t sleep without it, but I’ve never felt the need to ask.
Rule number one of our roommate agreement: Respect the pig.
Closely followed by rule number two: Always be honest, even if it’s ugly.
“Suck it, Thomas! I win again!” Eliza has both fists in the air as she celebrates getting more basketballs in the hoop than I did.
“Yeah, by two shots! And you got lucky with those.”
“Mm, sounds like loser-talk to me.”
“Just wait. You’re gonna be sorry when I annihilate you at air hockey.”
“Not today. I’m on a winning streak– I can feel it.”
I’ve missed this. Goofing around, just the two of us. As per the bet, I go get her candy from the vending machine in the corner of the room.
“So, Megan’s still helping you out with content?” she asks while the machine retrieves the Jolly Ranchers.
Damn, I knew her name was gonna come up sooner or later, but I was hoping I could get away with not having to lie to Eliza any more than I already am.
“Mm-hmm, I know I should have got the hang of it by now, but my ideas are never as good as hers. She’s a pro.”
“Yeah, it’s such a shame she had to give it up.”
Huh… Up until now, I assumed whatever brought Megan here was a Harvey family secret, but suddenly I’m realising Eliza knows more than she’s let on in the past. The messages Megan “sent” me yesterday have been playing on my mind all night. If I could just find out a little more, maybe I can protect her from any repeats of whatever happened in that resort bathroom that was so bad she thought she had to leave. I can keep her safe.
“What do you mean?” I ask, studying every inch of Eliza’s face.
She shoves a piece of candy in her mouth with urgency and then offers one to me, but I ignore it. After a moment she turns away and heads to the ice-hockey machine. She swipes her key card against the sensor to release the puck, but with her hands full, she drops it immediately.
Butterfingers.
We both kneel down to get it, but I reach it first and I don’t hand it over. Instead I wait for her to shift her attention off the puck and onto me. Slowly, she lifts her head, and we stare at each other in silence.
“You know something, don’t you?” I finally challenge her.
“Know what?”
The indent in her cheek from the Jolly Rancher she’s nervously tucked in there reminds me of a hamster, but that’s not what’s caught my attention – it’s how red her cheeks have turned. Shit, I hate myself for trying to dig into Megan’s past, especially when I promised her I wouldn’t. If I think I know already, does getting Eliza’s confirmation– against her will, no less – really matter? Well, Megan’s safety does, but she seems to have a handle on whatever the situation is now.
“Never mind.” I stand up and offer out my hand. “Are you ready to get your ass kicked?”
She rises to her full height too. “As if you’re gonna win.”