Chapter 42
ALICE
Spence is quieter than usual as we check into a small B floorboards creaking.
I tune my ear across the hall. Spence’s footsteps, a door shutting.
I sit up, turning the light back on. The carpet is soft and warm beneath my feet as I pad across the room, open the door, not giving myself time to think this through.
The corridor is dark except for a green fire exit light.
Then warm light spills onto the corridor.
Spence is in a pair of grey shorts, hair at odd angles.
A fold forms at the corner of his mouth, the beginnings of a smile, but not there yet.
‘I was just…’ My hand rests on the doorknob behind me. ‘Couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts buzzing around my head.’
He leans against the doorframe, crossing one foot over the other, arms folded. A door below closes, followed by the sound of a key locking.
‘I have to head back. In the morning,’ he says.
‘Is everything OK? Georgia…’
‘She’s fine. More than fine, actually.’ He stills, a line forming between his eyebrows. ‘I just need to get back. End of term stuff.’
‘Oh.’
‘You’ve got it from here?’
I try to smile, but something is knotting itself in my chest.
‘Yeah. Almost there now.’
I can’t meet his eyes; instead, I focus on the lamp behind him, the towel hanging on the back of a chair, the edge of the bed, duvet thrown back.
‘Can I—’ my hand drops from the doorknob ‘—come in?’
He scratches the back of his neck, jaw ticking. Then his shoulders drop, like he knows this is a bad idea but is letting me in regardless. He steps aside.
The room is smaller than mine and it smells like toothpaste, shower gel and Spence. The same as he’s always smelt. Safe. Warm. Him.
I sit on the edge of the bed, aware that I’m still in just a white shirt. My legs bare. No underwear except the pair of black knickers I’d grabbed in M my fingers run through the dark hair along the planes of his chest. I begin fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, needing to feel his skin on mine, a deep pull in the pit of my stomach as I reach for the band of his shorts.
But his hand clamps around mine. Stopping them.
He pulls back, breathing hard. ‘Wait.’
I can still taste him on my lips. Feel the imprint of his hands on my wrist as he steps back. ‘I… can’t do this, Al.’
I don’t move. The room suddenly feels too cold.
‘Not again.’