Chapter 29

29

When Saturday finally arrives, I'm resolved to try and repair things with Lloyd as much as I can—and if he doesn't want to, I'll have to respect that and give him whatever space he needs. I get ready as quickly and quietly as possible, but when I leave my bedroom, Louis is on his way out of the bathroom. He looks a little gray and his eyes are bloodshot; he yawns widely as soon as he tries to say hi.

"How's your hangover?" I ask. Everybody went out to a pub for dinner last night; half of us came home early, but Louis, Burnley, and Monty were among those who stayed out late.

"Hangover? Pfft. I'm just dandy, Anna." His voice is croaky, probably from shouting along to music at the club he ended up in last night, but he's not so sleepy or hungover that he doesn't notice my outfit or the bag slung over my shoulder. "You going out? Bit early, isn't it?"

"I'm, uh, meeting someone. A friend. For breakfast."

(I might get something for breakfast when I get to Waterloo, so it's not technically a lie, really.)

"Oh, cute. Have fun! We still on for tonight? Izzy's making a cake."

"Yes! Definitely."

I'm glad he's at least too tired to interrogate me like he usually would want to—he doesn't even try to tease me if this "friend" is a date. He stumbles back down the hallway to his bedroom, and I make my escape before Elaine can wake up and question me, too.

It's a gray day, the sky completely overcast with thin layers of pale clouds. It's muggy, too, the air thick with summer heat, like it might storm later. By the time I'm on the Tube platform, I've shed my jacket.

Waterloo station is busy, but it's easy enough to spot Lloyd waiting underneath the large clock suspended from the high ceiling, standing still while the crowds shift and merge around him.

I'm relieved that he looks more like himself than he did the other day, like he's finally gotten some rest, at least. He's wearing jeans and glasses, his hair a little unruly as if from sleep, and it feels like I'm seeing my Lloyd, the version of him who knows where to get late-night cake and coffee, who spills secrets and draws out parts of me I didn't even know existed. He even smiles when he sees me approaching—it's small and reserved, but sincere.

"Hi," I say, when I get close enough.

"Hi."

I swing my tote bag from my shoulder, then take out his file and hand it over. Lloyd is careful not to let his fingers brush mine; I try to ignore the way that stings. He starts flipping through the folder, a frown tugging at his brow, almost like he thinks he'll find whole sections missing. Maybe he thinks I graffitied them with crude drawings of penises like the boys at school used to do in textbooks.

"It's all there," I reassure him. "I was careful with it."

"You shouldn't have looked at it at all," he mutters. He's still too busy examining the folder to look at me beyond a quick, reproachful glance. "It wasn't yours. You shouldn't have snooped."

"Like I said, I was just trying to figure out who it belonged to. But…this is…" I glance at all the neon tabs, watch the file bend with the weight of all the papers in it. "Lloyd, what is all this?"

He tries to play it off with a lighthearted scoff and a full-body shrug and a too-casual, "What did you expect? I told you. My dad wants me to know how everything works, know the company inside out ready for when I take over one day. I've been making notes, that's all."

But he can't quite meet my eyes, and this time it feels purposeful rather than simply distracted. I shift a little closer so I can drop my voice, and the sudden proximity seems to resurrect the little bubble we created on nights in each other's company, muting the noise of the rest of the world around us and granting us an illusion of privacy.

"Notes? This is way more than just a few notes. It's…"

I trail off, trying to find the right words. I think about all the diagrams he'd redrawn and annotated, the notes he'd left. Costs he'd highlighted. The way he dismissed the collaboration between Arrowmile and Mom's company. Will, saying that he'd seen Lloyd looking up courses for chemical engineering at college. The way he tried to play it cool when he tagged along on our labs visit, but was so obviously interested in it.

Something slots into place, and I take a guess.

"It's all the things you'd do differently, isn't it?"

Lloyd scoffs, starting to protest, but he falters quickly. A breath shudders out of him and he meets my gaze this time, green eyes shining. He looks oddly vulnerable for a guy who's always been so sure of himself. His shoulders hunch as he draws the file closer to his chest, shrinking in on himself until he looks physically smaller. Without the big smile or the swaggering attitude, he looks so young. More like his age.

He looks like a kid who's been under way too much pressure for way too long.

"You can't tell anybody," he says quietly. "You have to promise me, you won't tell them about this. They can't find out. Especially not my dad."

"But I thought you and your dad talked about everything going on at Arrowmile? I thought that was, like, the whole point. That he wanted you to be involved?"

"Not like this. Not…"

Lloyd drags a hand through his hair, rattled and unsure. The closeness that's built up between us since the start of summer suddenly seems so much bigger than the recent distance, than the lingering tension from our fight, and I don't think twice when I take him by the elbow and gesture for us to leave the station. Lloyd relaxes, breathes a little easier, at my touch. He looks at me like he's thinking the same thing: whatever else has happened between us, we know each other in a way other people don't. And that still means something.

"Come on, Fletcher," I tell him. "Let's get breakfast, and talk."

—

Lloyd and I manage to get a quiet corner table at one of the restaurants along the South Bank. We both place orders for breakfast without really paying much attention to the menu, and then Lloyd starts talking, the words spilling out of him in a rush. He trips over his words and fidgets with the cutlery, occasionally losing himself in the excitement of talking about something he loves or abruptly turning to quiet, stilted stammering as he tries to explain himself.

He explains that the file is something he's been working on for a couple of years, but he's been focusing on it in earnest while spending his gap year at Arrowmile. It started out as just a fact-finding mission, something to help him prepare for the inevitable day his dad decided he should get involved in the company in a more real way, with a more concrete role. It was part pet project at the beginning, too—he had a real interest in the development work going on in the labs, did some research on his own time for fun, occasionally found something from one project that could be used somewhere else, ways to make things more efficient.

"Like with Phoebus III," he says, fishing some diagrams out of the file to show me. I notice the one on top is a patent application for something, but I couldn't even begin to guess what. "They were applying tech from racing cars to try and improve the battery life of our electric vehicles, but the technology wasn't quite there at the time, so it got expensive and then Dad cut off the funding and it was scrapped. But now, see, if we used that tech in the new car, in the Phoebus IV, there's a real chance it could work! But nobody's even considered it—or if they have, they're too scared to try to approach my dad about it after it failed the last time."

Sometimes, he explains, it was more of a revenge mission. Rooting out all the rotten parts of Arrowmile, debunking some of their eco-friendly claims or the positive spin they'd put on something.

"The thing they're working on with your mom—it's a nice idea, but it's all just to get some good publicity. They'll pour millions into it, for nothing. They don't plan to actually do anything beyond a few prototypes they can show off, you know? They don't care enough. Maybe your mom does, I don't know, but Dad definitely doesn't. It's a gimmick."

Whatever this research project is, it's been his outlet. Something to channel his frustration and passion and determination into all this time.

He pauses to take a breather when our food is brought over.

Lloyd's eyes are shining again, but this time not with the threat of tears. Now, it's pure exhilaration. The shallow heave of his chest isn't from anxiety, it's from adrenaline.

I can't help but admire him, even as I'm still getting my head around this.

And I can't believe I ever thought he was just throwing his weight around, enjoying exerting his authority as the boss's son and never actually doing any real work, when all this time he's been dedicated to this.

"I still don't understand," I say, pulling my poached egg and avocado toast toward me. "Why don't you want your dad to find out about all this? Wouldn't he be proud? I mean, if this is stuff that could help the company…"

Lloyd scoffs. "Some of it would. Some of it wouldn't look so great if the press got hold of it or shareholders found out, I bet."

"Which was why you were always nagging me to find out what the updates to all the managers were. So you could see how people were talking about stuff and what kind of spin they put on it."

"Yeah. Besides, I've tried talking to my dad. He doesn't care."

"He—what?"

"He doesn't care," Lloyd repeats, and pulls a face, his mouth twisting up on one side as he shrugs, all, What can you do? "I've tried to talk to him about everything in this file, but he's never interested. Just says, ‘ Leave it to the grown-ups. Don't worry about it, it's all in hand.' Or he tells me he'll deal with it, but he never does. You said a while ago that nobody would tell me that my work doesn't have any real merit—and as far as my dad's concerned, it doesn't. He reckons I don't understand what they're doing in the labs, but I understand a lot more than he does. I've been living, sleeping, breathing this stuff since I was little. I like the science of it, so I've learned about it—unlike Dad, who just defers to the experts.

"If he knew just how much stuff I've collected on Arrowmile… I mean, this whole thing…" Lloyd lets out a short chuckle, gesturing at the file. "This is basically a catalog of everything he's done wrong for the last couple of years. He'd be furious if he found out. And…and I don't want to put that on Will, you know? If Dad loses it with me, he'll just start trying to rope Will back into Arrowmile, and…"

Breakfast forgotten, all I can do is stare at this boy who wears his heart on his sleeve, who loves so fiercely and is so full of compassion, and wonder how I ever thought so little of him.

I kept calling him "golden boy," not realizing he had a heart of gold to match.

Reaching across the table, I take Lloyd's hand.

"You should do something with all this, though! If it could help your dad's company, and do some good in the world—"

"What? What can I do that'll actually make him sit down and listen and understand I'm not trying to sabotage his life's work? Round up all the Arrowmile teams and tell them instead, hope they can make him listen?"

"Actually…Actually, Fletcher, that might not be such a badidea."

He snorts, giving me a sardonic smile. "It's a nice thought, but not gonna happen. He'd find out and shut the whole thing down before I got chance."

"Maybe. But…I think I've got a way to help."

—

We stick around for a while after finishing breakfast, sharing a pot of tea and talking the plan through, with Lloyd telling me a little more about the parts of his research he's most excited about. They're the geeky, science-y ones from work going on in the labs, but he's patient as he explains it in terms that I can understand.

"Thanks," he tells me quietly, "for helping me with all of this."

"Thanks for telling me about all of this," I reply, nodding toward the file. "And—and like I tried to say before, I really am sorry about the way I've been treating you. And all this stuff with your dad, and the company—I never really realized how tough it must be for you."

Lloyd shrugs, shuffling in his seat. "It's okay. It's not like I let on, I guess. I know that makes me kind of a hypocrite—like you said, I was mad at you for not letting me in, when I was busy keeping you out, too, but…" His eyes dart up to mine, and he cringes. "As long as we're apologizing, I'm sorry I called you a hypocrite."

"It's okay. I didn't…I really didn't mean to have a go at you. I was just trying to explain I'd never lied to you about who my mom was, that it wasn't like it looked. And I don't expect you to forgive me, but…I'd like it if we can be friends again, maybe? I'm still here for another few weeks, so, it's just…I mean, I don't want things to be awkward, and I do like spending time with you, and—"

"Annalise," he says softly, and flashes me the quicksilver smile that's held a place in my heart since the first night we met. "I forgive you. Friends, yeah?"

"Yeah."

I smile at him, happy—relieved.

Even if I shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss my connection with Lloyd or shut down the possibility of anything romantic between us so I could focus one hundred percent on the internship, it doesn't change the fact that there's only three weeks to go until this is over, and then I'll pack up and move back home. And come October, we'll both be at college, in different cities, and didn't last year already prove to me that I couldn't manage to study and maintain a long-distance relationship? Or probably any relationship?

This summer was always a finite stretch of time. It was always going to be a self-contained little pocket.

So there still can't be anything between me and Lloyd; it wouldn't be fair to either of us. And Lloyd deserves better.

Friends, though. Friends, I'll happily take.

Because I can't lose him. Even if we can't be together, I can't lose what I have with Lloyd completely.

My phone buzzes on the table, for like the twentieth time. Lloyd eyes it with an amused smile.

"Again? Someone's popular. Or is there some gossip going off in the group chat?"

I turn my phone screen up to check; I'd silenced it and turned it face down to talk to Lloyd.

"It's just my mom." I snap the screen off.

"Oh. What does she want? Lunch again?"

"Um…" Suddenly awkward, I feel my cheeks beginning to heat. "She wanted to wish me happy birthday."

I glance up in time to see Lloyd's jaw drop, the sympathy over my tricky relationship with Mom replaced instantly by a blank expression and then by guilt.

"Annalise! You should've told me!"

"It's not a big deal. I don't normally make a fuss about my birthday anyway. And," I joke, "I didn't get much chance, what with you demanding I hand over your top-secret project file."

Lloyd laughs. "Yeah, that's fair. Sorry for highjacking your birthday. And, obviously, happy birthday."

"Thanks. And that's okay. I didn't really have plans this morning anyway, beyond FaceTiming my family at some point. A bunch of us are going out for dinner tonight though, and Izzy's making a cake. You could—I mean, you could…join us, if you like. And Will. I'm sure nobody would mind."

Surprise colors his face, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" he asks.

"Honestly? I can't think of anything I'd like more," I tell him, and I mean it.

We finish our drinks, but neither of us suggests parting ways just yet. We wander along the river, another two people in the Saturday-morning bustle, and conversation is easy: we talk about birthdays from our childhood, what plans Lloyd and Will have for their birthday at the end of August, and how annoying it's always been to have a birthday during school break like this. We talk like we did that first night, and that time at the late-night café, and I have to try hard not to follow Lloyd's lead and wear my heart on my sleeve around him, when we can't be more than friends.

We leave each other around lunchtime. I text Lloyd the plans for tonight so he and Will can meet us at the restaurant. When I'm on the bus home, I call Dad and chat to everybody.

"I wish you'd come home for the weekend!" Gina tells me, when she manages to wrangle the phone back from Oliver and Christian, who have descended into bickering. "We would've paid for your train ticket! I didn't get to see you with the others in Devon the other week, and I miss you! But at least you've got plans with all your friends—I'm sure that's much more exciting than seeing us lot. I know I already sent you some nice new clothes and a few bits from us all, but your dad's sent you some money, too, so you can treat yourself to a little something!"

I miss her, too. I miss all of them.

It must be this homesickness for family that makes me feel a little bit guilty when, back at the apartment, I find a birthday card from Mom with some money inside. And she does sound contrite in her earlier text when I finally read it—like she really is trying.

It's hard to let her.

I don't want to give her the chance to disappoint me again.

Either way, I find myself thanking her for the card, the money, and the birthday wishes, and I even apologize for being so short with her at lunch. Maybe, I say, if she's still around in a couple of weeks, we can try again before I leave.

On my terms.

The evening arrives all at once, with a group of us piling into a restaurant Elaine found nearby. There's a little initial surprise when Lloyd and Will join us, but I just mention I'd invited them "a while ago" and they're swept easily into the fold, and come back to the apartment with us afterward to enjoy the cake Izzy made—a giant vanilla sponge with lashings of buttercream that is truly mouthwatering. We stuff ourselves with cake and play charades, and when Will and Lloyd leave, I walk them out. I feel a new sort of warm glow at bringing friends together; I bask in the feeling of being surrounded by people I feel are genuinely my friends, and not just because we're in the same club at school or something. For once, I enjoy being not just included but the center of attention.

And it's nice to know that Lloyd and I can spend time together this way without it being weird or tense.

"Thanks for the invite," Will tells me, and gives me a quick, one-armed hug. "This was fun. And I'm glad you two are speaking again."

Lloyd shoves his brother, rolling his eyes. Will steps away to call the lift, granting us a tiny, fleeting moment of privacy.

"Thanks for coming," I say. It comes out a whisper.

Lloyd smiles at me, leaning in with a hand braced against my elbow to kiss my cheek, dangerously close to the corner of my mouth, which sends a current of electric shock all the way to my toes. He smiles softly when he draws away.

"Happy birthday, Annalise."

I watch them leave, my fingers coming up to brush my cheek.

As presents go, that kiss was the best one.