Chapter Twenty-Three

Shaun

Most Likely to End Up Together

It s sickening, dizzying, and I can t walk away. Can t be anywhere else but here, with Steph.

It shouldn t be. I shouldn t have asked if she ever thought about us. I should ve just said it was good to see her and gone back inside to Aisha, and, God, Aisha . I never meant anything by a catch-up with Steph, but - I know, this isn t right. It s become something it shouldn t, and I can t tear myself away.

It was so easy when we sat together talking earlier. Spilling our life stories from the past ten years, leaning into each other and with the occasional bump of shoulders and knees and brush of hands. It was simple, and friendly. Innocent.

This does not feel innocent.

We re just stood facing each other, not even touching, and yet it feels so wildly intimate that my heart rate picks up a few notches. My skin feels hot, my shirt suddenly too tight around my throat. I fidget with it, but Steph s eyes flicker towards where my finger hooks underneath the collar, and a flush creeps up her cheeks, pink and pretty and -

Is she thinking about when she used to fidget with my school tie when we snuck off together to steal a kiss away from our friends, an act that went from cute and distracted to something more purposeful, that mischievous glint in her eyes, when she d do it after we started to be more physical?

Not that I m thinking about it, either. It s not appropriate. It s not

Not anything, except it s everything, because she was my whole world, and I thought she always would be.

And, God, but I want to kiss her. If I m being honest with myself, I think I ve been dying to kiss her all night. My gaze is on her gently parted lips, my body leaning in and I wonder - is she going to stop me?

I never find out, because I hardly even get close enough to bend my head towards hers or make a move; we re interrupted by the crunch of gravel as someone walks over, muttering to themselves and then saying loudly, What are you guys doing out here?

Falling back a step to create some distance between us, I turn away from Steph, squinting through the darkness. It s Priya, rubbing her bare arms. She s scowling, but the look shifts from irritable to something more calculating and suspicious as her eyes dart between us.

Alright, Shaun, Priya says, with a bored sort of nonchalance that makes me think the greeting is an old habit rather than anything else, then turns her attention fully on Steph. This is where you snuck off to? We lost you ages ago. You missed Bohemian Rhapsody and you know Morgan s rubbish at the high parts.

We were just, Steph says, and I feel her looking at me before she finally says, er, catching up.

Is that so?

Not like that!

Steph blushes, her cheeks so bright pink they re practically glowing, and when I grin at her, trying not to laugh at her expense, she shoves my arm playfully to shut me up, which does make me laugh.

We re just talking , Steph reiterates.

Okay Priya cuts me a look before turning a more neutral expression on Steph. I turn to face sideways so that I can look between them, watching them have some silent conversation through raised eyebrows and shrugs and sideways twists of the mouth, a language they both learnt as best friends in school and, I guess, haven t forgotten.

Does Steph look worried? Is Priya going to go back and tell everyone what she saw - and what even did she see? Is she going to ruin everything and drag Steph away, back inside to her fianc , before we have the chance to to finish talking, or whatever?

Would it be the worst thing, if she did go back inside and tell everyone she caught us together?

I mean, it s not like it s bloody Bridgerton (Aisha made me watch the first season with her - three times) and merely being caught alone in a compromising position will ruin Steph s honour and I ll have to duel Curtis with pistols at dawn.

But still. People talk, gossip.

Would they believe nothing happened?

I feel bad for thinking it, but there s a vicious part of me that suddenly hopes Priya will go blab. Wouldn t it fix everything? And wouldn t we be just as well to actually kiss, then, because what difference would it make?

Aisha s face flashes up in my mind and I cringe, acutely aware of our plans and dreams for the future and our life together that I m so dangerously close to throwing away.

Do I want to?

Is Steph worth that risk?

It s a little unnerving, how quickly and surely I can answer that question. How easy it is to imagine that life - the wedding, the house, the kids, the family holidays and Christmases and everything else - with Steph in that picture, instead of Aisha.

Interrupting their silent exchange, I ask Priya, What re you doing out here anyway?

She waggles a lighter I hadn t noticed her holding. Nipped out for a quick cig. But I left my phone inside and the fire door out of the hall shut behind me. Sod s law, isn t it? Lucky for me to find you two out here, really.

The words feel weighted, and I don t know if they re a threat or a warning or if I m just making it all up. Steph s friends would always go to bat for her; I m really hoping that s not changed.

We ll be back inside soon, Steph promises, and I feel some of the tension in my shoulders unfurl. She doesn t want to leave yet, doesn t want this to end too soon either.

Priya nods and squeezes Steph s arm on the way past.

I breathe a sigh of relief as Priya pulls the door to the stairwell closed behind her, muttering to herself, These bloody lights, ugh. Why s it so dark in here? Of all the times to not have my phone

The previous tension between us now well and truly broken, Steph tosses me an easy smile before taking a seat at the top of the steps again.

The scent that teases my nostrils as she moves is one I can t put my finger on. Floral, I think? It s not the vanilla-y, sweet scent I m used to Aisha wearing, and I ve never learnt enough about flowers or perfume to know now - all I can say with any certainty is that it s not the smell I d associate with Steph. Not the British Rose perfume from The Body Shop I used to buy her gift sets of at Christmastime - something lighter, more dainty.

Not that I would ve expected her, at twenty-eight, to still be wearing the perfume she picked out as a teenager. Steph is an adult with sophisticated taste (judging by the home d cor photos she posts online every so often), so of course she d have found a new perfume to match that.

Still, it s jarring enough that when I look at her, I don t see the girl I used to know better than anybody else. Just for that split second, she s a stranger, as new and unfamiliar to me as that building that replaced the old language demountables out the front of the school. Like, if I walked past her in the street, I wouldn t look or think twice, because - well, why would I? She s just somebody. She s nothing to me, and in no way mine.

But I blink, and the moment s gone.

And not for the first time tonight, I find myself longing for things to be just the way they were ten years ago.