Chapter 8 #2
I shrugged. I wanted to answer with a firm, No, I don’t, but I knew better than that.
When it came to the people who mattered, I did care what they thought of me.
Which might be one reason why I’d given up on friendships for a while.
Loving someone makes you dependent on their opinion.
If you don’t let anybody get close to you, you’ll never be rejected, never be made to feel like you’re not enough, or too much, or too wrong.
Plus, when they die, it won’t nearly destroy you.
My aunt had dragged me to see a therapist after my mum died, but I didn’t need her to figure out why I made no effort to put down roots in my new home.
I was sick of loving people and then losing them.
It didn’t have to be a heart attack or a car accident – there were plenty of ways for someone to disappear from your life.
So no, I wasn’t oblivious to what other people thought of me. I was just selective about whose opinions I valued. And Matthew’s opinions definitely didn’t make the cut.
I squinted up at Blake. The sun was behind him, and his hair gleamed. Raven-black. Or rather … starling-black. ‘Like my mother used to say, If people are badmouthing you, it says nothing about you but a lot about them.’
‘Sounds like she’s a smart lady.’
‘She was,’ I corrected him automatically. Blake’s brow furrowed, and I sighed. ‘She’s dead. So’s my dad. I never actually met him – he had a heart attack before I was born. Bursary kid and an orphan. Extra cliché, isn’t it?’
I sped up a little, not wanting to see the expression I always got in response to those words. Pity, awkwardness. Clumsily stammered condolences.
To my surprise, that wasn’t Blake’s reaction at all. ‘I see,’ was all he said, catching up to walk by my side. The cobbled paths were dotted with puddles again today. A few feet away, the fountain shimmered in the noonday sun breaking through the clouds.
‘No, I’m so sorry?’ I studied his expression, and read neither pity nor unease. Only thoughtfulness.
He’d tucked his hands into his coat pockets, but his jumper revealed a glimpse of collarbone. I tried to see if I could spot a black dot, but as he turned to me the fabric covered his skin. ‘I can tell you from experience that sorry doesn’t help.’
‘Dead parents?’
‘Something like that.’
I waited, but when he showed no sign of elaborating I sighed. ‘You’re really doing your best to give the serial-killer vibe, aren’t you?’
‘Mmm.’ The corners of his mouth twitched, but I noticed that his eyes were grave.
And that his attention wasn’t on me but on the group seated on the fountain steps.
I didn’t have to look to know who they were.
There was something revealing about people who considered themselves the cream of the university crop always choosing to hang out at one of its most famous landmarks.
Irritated, I stopped and waited until Blake had turned to face me. ‘Okay, level with me. What do you want?’
He tilted his head slightly. I wasn’t sure if I saw a trace of amusement in his expression. ‘Who says I want something? These are college grounds. My college, actually.’
‘In case nobody’s told you this yet: it doesn’t belong to you. Or to your friends over there, watching us from barely twenty feet away.’
Blake stiffened, although I was sure he’d seen them, too. He was probably going to meet them right now. The last couple of times he’d done everything he could to avoid being seen with me – why was he so keen to take a walk with me now?
It made no sense that Blake was talking to me. And while I was happy he was letting his guard down, I wasn’t going to blindly take the bait. I had no interest in being made a fool of twice in one day. ‘So: what do you want from me?’
For a moment he shut his eyes, then he took a step towards me – so suddenly that I jumped. Without a word, he raised a hand to my hair. His fingertips brushed my neck before he pulled back, turning a leaf between his fingers.
I was too perplexed to react. Perplexed and …
overwhelmed. I was very aware that his friends were watching us, but most of all I was aware of his touch.
I’d thought I was cold, but although his coat was significantly thicker than mine, his skin felt almost icy.
I tried to tell myself that was the only reason for the goosebumps under my jumper, and not the strange, unexpected heat that surged through my body.
‘There’s only one thing I want from you,’ he said tonelessly, examining the red leaf in his hand. ‘But I’m afraid you won’t oblige.’
‘I assume it involves us never seeing each other again. In which case, Ashton’s the one you should be telling – it’s him who keeps inviting Zoe.
’ I stepped aside to let a group of girls pass.
One of them was staring at Blake with such obvious interest that it almost made me uncomfortable.
He, however, didn’t seem to notice: he was studying his hand as it balled into a fist around the leaf.
There was a crunch. I hesitated briefly, then braced myself.
‘What does he want from her? Zoe says they’re not sleeping together, but then I don’t get why he wants her around all the time. ’
Blake’s expression relaxed into amusement. ‘You can’t think of any reason to hang out apart from sex?’
I couldn’t stop the heat rising into my cheeks. ‘You know what I mean.’
His lips curled slightly. ‘Do I?’
Two simple words, and I felt like he’d switched into a different language. One I hadn’t thought he spoke. Caught off-guard, for a moment I didn’t understand – or maybe it was because I was so out of practice myself. ‘Are you flirting with me, Blake Ames?’
There was a quiver in my voice – and, strangely, in my heart as well.
The way his gaze … wandered. From my eyes to my mouth, to the sweep of hair that fell across my face.
To my mouth. Secret Whisper, a brown-hued matte red.
The name of the shade kept repeating in my head as Blake looked at me.
The whisper running through my mind was so enigmatic that I couldn’t quite make sense of it.
I only knew one thing: the thought behind it was new and intense and …
dangerous. And alluring. A little too alluring.
Before I could examine it more closely, Blake shook his head. ‘No. I’m not.’
Good, I thought, but my chest tightened. I crossed my arms and waited for the tightness to fade. Then I took a deep breath. Whatever that was, there were more important things to think about: ‘So … what would I need to do to make Ashton … lose interest in Zoe?’
‘Is that what you want? She likes him, doesn’t she?’
‘Better a broken heart than a broken neck. You said it yourself. She’s not safe with you lot. And I’m not going to lose her. Not Zoe, too.’ The last words were out before I could stop them.
I could feel Blake’s gaze scratching at my forehead, but I didn’t dare look up. What I’d just said was the varnish on a deep, underlying truth I’d been trying to hide for years – even from myself. I wasn’t ready to reveal any more of it just yet. Or any more of me.
‘Just wait it out,’ Blake said. ‘Emotions are fickle, Ashton’s more than anybody’s. Give it a couple of weeks and he’ll have forgotten her name.’
I brushed my misgivings aside and plastered on a grin. ‘You’ve got a thing about names, haven’t you?’
‘There’s nothing more important than a name.’
Suddenly, I remembered what we’d been talking about that night in the little library.
A name without a face means nothing, right?
I don’t see it that way at all.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I mean … people do research into how bodies function. How blood, hormones and cell types interact, which muscles are where, how particular organs develop. But there’s something the models can’t capture: a person’s psyche, their …
soul. We’ll never be able to understand it fully because each one is made up of different things.
Inborn characteristics, personal experience, the hopes, fears and dreams we’re taught by society or develop for ourselves.
Researchers have always underestimated the power of the human soul.
It is the core of everything that makes us …
who we are.’ His voice trailed off, his gaze becoming unfocused.
For a few seconds, the sadness was back in his eyes, much deeper than I’d seen before in anyone my age.
I realised that what he’d just said struck to the heart of his grief, although I still didn’t fully understand it. Even in his most apparently honest moments, Blake confused me. It was exhausting and frustrating and, unfortunately, intriguing.
‘So you think of names like labels for souls, or something?’
He blinked. ‘Maybe. Probably sounds a bit silly.’
‘No, actually it sounds astonishingly wise.’
Blake laughed. A short, warm, very frank laugh that I liked a little too much. ‘You’ve certainly got a knack for backhanded compliments.’
I couldn’t help but grin. ‘Okay, you got me, I’m not good at being nice. Just be happy you’re not trying to flirt with me.’
He laughed again, husky and a little … desperate, somehow. ‘You’re the one who should be happy about that.’
‘You’ve certainly got a knack for piquing my curiosity with all those creepy lines,’ I said, wondering what was wrong with me.
It didn’t repel me – in fact, I felt more words rising unbidden to the tip of my tongue.
Words that sounded less provocative and more halting than I wanted them to.
‘So … would you mind if we saw each other again soon?’
Abruptly the smile on his mouth faded. Slowly he opened his hand and let the scarlet shreds of leaf drop. Blood rain, I thought, shuddering. ‘Would it stop you if I said yes?’
The trace of a pang burned in my chest at his words.
And I despised myself for it. Like I said: I didn’t care what other people thought, as long as I didn’t care about them.
So obviously it didn’t matter to me if this dipshit didn’t want me around.
He didn’t matter to me – but the pain in my chest told me something I didn’t want to acknowledge: I did care.
It was ridiculous. I didn’t even know him, and I wasn’t going to let myself get all upset just because he didn’t like me.
I certainly couldn’t let it stop me from doing what needed to be done.
‘Nope. And now I’ve got to go.’ I skipped over a puddle next to us to get past him. Part of me wanted to take the long way round, avoid Blake’s friends, but I steeled myself. No cowering, no hiding – not from anybody.
I’d taken barely two steps when Blake’s voice held me back. ‘That guy from the supervision. What’s his name?’
Confused, I turned to face him. His hand was clenched into a fist. The one he’d used to crush the leaf. The one he’d used to touch me. It was so stupid: a trivial, two-second memory and my heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t think straight. ‘Matthew Bassett. Why?’
Blake merely shrugged before he turned and walked away without another word. A dark fleck on the autumn-vivid courtyard, slowly receding. Away from his friends. Away from me.