TEN #2
Cameron must have felt trapped to stay with his wife once she became ill. I wondered when he had started to see my aunt.
“Anyway, we did start to see each other, towards the end of Isobelle’s life. That’s what eats me up. Kieran has a right to feel the way he goes.”
“That’s bullshit. Nothing happened between us until Isobelle was gone. Yes, we were friends, and I wanted more, but we held off. We did the right thing.”
There was a lengthy pause before Vanessa added. “Look, I’m tired of this same fight. I’m going to bed. If you don’t do something about the situation with Kieran, you are going to lose him for good.”
Footsteps alerted me that one of them was walking towards me, and I was about to be caught eavesdropping (again), and I panicked, dashing towards the stairs.
“Amelie? Are you OK?” Vanessa called out, just as my foot was on the first step. I spun around, my cheeks heating.
“Yes, sorry, I was…” I did an odd flappy thing with my hands. Get a grip, Amelie!
Her brow creased as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She then glanced behind her into the kitchen and back again, stark realisation changing her face. “You were listening?
I dropped down a step and moved towards her, “I didn’t mean to,” I lied, not really knowing what to say.
She swallowed, and her expression became grave. “You’re not to repeat anything you’ve heard, OK.” Her voice was the sternest I’d ever heard from her mouth.
My shoulders slumped, and I struggled to retain eye contact. My face must have been the colour of a beetroot. “Of course not. I’m sorry—I just had good news about Adam.”
Vanessa’s face softened as Cameron walked out of the kitchen. “What about Adam?” he questioned as he joined us.
I then followed them both back into the kitchen whilst they made coffee and explained that I had found out where he worked.
Both Vanessa and Cameron said that they would take me to see him.
Cameron was super helpful, Googling the name of the garage I had been given and checking out weekend opening hours.
After further discussions about my parents and school, I headed back upstairs, without telling them about the letter from my mother.
Something I had yet to stomach for myself.
When I got to my room that night, I wrote about everything I had heard about Kieran’s mother and the truth about her life before she died in my journal. I was sworn to secrecy and knew I could never tell a living soul, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t ease that burden of knowing on paper.
KIERAN
It was Friday night, and I was crashing at Weston’s house. The guys had called an emergency intervention because I’d spent the last seven days acting like a total prick. I knew it, too. But when the same date your mother died in front of you approached, "cheerful" wasn’t really an option.
To make matters worse, the cold war between my dad and me was escalating, mostly because I kept poking the bear.
Then there was the sudden, sickening sight of Cameron, Vanessa, Jessa and Maisy buzzing around Amelie like a family without me.
Shit, even Lincoln made time for her. I still couldn’t decide which one I was the maddest at.
To help me deal with my looming shit, West and Tanner had resorted to our holy trinity: a PS5 marathon, a bottle of Rafe Cavendish’s fifty-year-old vintage whisky, and a mountain of greasy takeaway.
We paused the game the second the smash burgers arrived. Tanner, true to form, had ordered a literal carcass: two double cheeseburgers, a mountain of fries, and a side of onion rings.
“Are you actually going to eat all that, you absolute hog?” I muttered, poking a fry around my own box.
Unfazed, Tan grinned, offering me a horrific view of half-chewed beef. “Of course. I’m a growing boy,” he explained, slapping a hand over his rock-hard, flat stomach.
“Living your best life, more like,” I muttered under my breath. Tanner still heard me and grinned.
“If I were living my best life, I’d be banging your sister and the little house guest. At the same time, I might add.”
Dirty fucker. Before I could shoot that shit down, our other friend cut it, “Talking of banging. Have you ever been with a virgin?” Weston suddenly asked.
The question hit the room like a Call of Duty flashbang. Tanner stopped chewing. I froze mid-sip. Talk about out of the blue.
We were sitting in Weston’s detached pool house—our ultimate sanctuary for when we couldn't be arsed to deal with fucking adults. He was a lucky fucker who got to use his as well as having a main bedroom in the house. What did I have? A small as fuck bedroom and The Den: mine and Lincoln’s gaming room, which hadn’t been redecorated for the last eight years.
My eyes flicked to the leather armchair Weston was lounging in. I’d actually screwed Cassie Smith in that exact chair last year. West didn't know, obviously. We were close, but he’d throw the chair in the pool if he knew my bare arse had been on that leather.
“Why do you ask?” Tanner finally said, swallowing his massive bite and shuffling back. He glued his eyes once again on the massive TV screen, trying to pretend the vibe hadn't just gotten incredibly weird.
Weston took a massive, theatrical breath, slouching like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. I wanted to throw my fries at him. Half of the world’s problems were currently sitting on my shoulders, thank you very much.
“Halo asked me to fuck her.”
Tanner and I had just launched into a new Call of Duty match.
The second the words left West's mouth, Tanner’s character took a sniper bullet directly to the skull, and my guy walked straight off the side of a cargo ship into the ocean.
The controller vibrated violently in my hands, a digital funeral march for our doomed players.
We both abandoned our controllers. I snatched up Rafe’s vintage whisky and took a massive, burning slug to steady my nerves.
Tanner beat me to the punch. “You’re shitting me. She just asked you? Out of the fricking blue?”
“Yep,” Weston said, looking genuinely terrified. “Just like that. Although... she didn’t quite use those exact words.”
Tanner’s face split into a stupid, eager grin. “What? Did she ask you in French or something? Avez-vous du beurre?”
“That means have you any butter dickwad,” West replied with a frown.
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. Weston didn't laugh either. He just nudged one of Tanner’s feet off the coffee table. It was sitting there surrounded by takeout. “Will you get your feet off my fries?” Tan's legs hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Weston rubbed his temples. “She said, 'I want you to have sex with me.' Or something along those lines, anyway. Halo doesn’t use the word 'fuck'.”
I let out a harsh, cynical laugh, the whisky burning the back of my throat. “Of course not. Heaven forbids our wholesome, resident virgin ruins her vocabulary while planning her deflowering.”
“Anyway, how can you be sure?” Tanner asked, his hands practically vibrating against his jeans with excitement.
“How can I be sure about what?” West snapped.
I dropped my own feet to the floor, leaning forward. “Well, you have seen the girl. How can you be sure she’s a virgin?”
“Because she told me, dickwad, and she has no reason to lie. She wants to lose the V-card, get it out of the way, and she’s nominated me to do the deed.”
Tanner casually reached over and grabbed a massive handful of Weston’s fries. “So why do you look so upset about it? What’s the problem? The girl’s gorgeous. And you’ve always had a thing for her.”
“A thing?” West’s voice jumped an octave. “There’s never been a thing.”
“There’s a thing,” Tanner chimed back.
Weston blanched, visibly squirming under our synchronised stares. “I think you’re reaching. I wouldn’t call what we have a thing.”
“Bullshit!” Tanner fake-coughed into his fist, spraying a few stray crumbs in the air.
I chuckled, violently crushing my empty burger wrapper into a tight ball and chucking it at Tanner's head. But as the laughter died down, my mind took a sharp, unwelcome detour to Amelie. A cold spike of reality hit me: neither of us had actually answered Weston’s original question.
Deflowering virgins was uncharted territory for me.
I only ever slept with girls who knew what they were doing.
“And that’s part of the problem," Weston groaned, dragging a hand down his face before slamming his whisky bottle back onto the table. "I just don’t want her to get any more attached.”
“Why?” Tanner asked, his mouth full again.
“Because I don’t want a bloody girlfriend! Not right now. So, back to my original question. Do either of you have experience of taking a V-card, or do I Google that shit?”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “You’re on your own, mate.”
I watched his twitchy body language. For a guy claiming he didn’t want a girlfriend, he was taking that shit really seriously. He knew Halo had feelings for him, and despite his cool-guy act, he didn't want to hurt her. Girls didn’t offer up their virginity to guys they just considered 'pals'.
“So, are you going to do it?” I asked.
“Probably," West muttered, staring at the floor. "But it’s Halo. I want to make it good for her. I don’t want it to be a wham bam thank you ma'am, thing.”
Tanner paused, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. “Is that your way of telling us you’re shit in bed?”
A sudden, rare silence fell over the pool house. We all leaned back, letting the gravity of the conversation sink in.
I broke the silence, cutting my eyes across the room. “Tanner?”
“What?” he replied, his expression completely vacant as he licked ketchup off his thumb.
“Have you ever been with a virgin?”
“Erck, Christ, no.” Tanner shuddered with a look of genuine disgust. Then, his brow creased. He paused, looking thoughtfully at that second half-eaten burger. What happened next shocked both West and me. Who knew our loudest, most annoying sack-of-shit buddy actually possessed a softer side?