I tune out the rest of the conversation. Everything about him sets me on edge—his voice, his smile, the way he seems more confident than he used to be. I seem to have forgotten so much about him—except for how he was in those final moments we’d spent together. Wild. Scared. Out of control. It had been like the two years before that night just dissolved before my eyes.
Robbie asks me a question, dragging me from my memories, and I’m grateful for the mundane conversation to help me get through the rest of the meal.
An hour later I’m at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the roasting tin as I wait for Gran to find me for our little “chat”. The sound of a shoe scuffing on stone tiles comes from behind me and my shoulders tense in anticipation.
“I’ll be done in a minute, Gran.”
There’s a moment’s silence.
“Um, it’s me …” a quiet voice says.
No, no, no.
I can’t talk to him right now, not when my head’s a fucking mess. My throat tightens. “Go away,” I say, scrubbing the pan harder than before, determined to get all the burnt fat off.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t need to do anything. You don’t get to demand anything from me anymore.”
“I’ve never demanded anything from you,” he huffs, voice getting louder.
I keep my back to him.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Teddy. Would you just look at me while I’m talking to you?”
My shoulders are so tense that pain shoots across them. I throw the tin into the sink with a clatter and grab the kitchen towel. “What?” I ask, turning to face him, pushing down the nausea when I look into his eyes. “What do you want to talk about, Bailey? You said you never wanted to see me again and made sure the message got through. What could you possibly want?”
His face crumples, and I could almost fool myself into thinking he looks hurt. But I’m not falling for it again. I move around him towards the kitchen door, when a tug on my jumper stops me in my tracks. I look down to find him clinging to me.
“Wait, Teddy, I never meant that, I?—”
I smack his hand off and growl, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He pulls his hands to his chest, wringing them together.
“You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me.” I loom over him, getting as close as I can manage, testing myself to see if I can stand up to him without my chest collapsing in on itself. “Stay away from me,” I order, shoving him backwards.He doesn’t say a word as I wrench the kitchen door open and walk through the house to the front. “I’m going!” I don’t wait for anyone to respond before I’m out the door and in my car, heading back to Robbie’s house alone.
THEO - SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
Walkingthrough the corridor towards the science block, a familiar blonde head bobs through the crowd ahead of me. I push through them so I can get close enough to see whether it’s Shane or Bailey.
I haven’t seen Bailey properly since that night in the woods, not for lack of trying. I’ve spent weeks looking out for him in school. Whenever I spot him, he takes off in the opposite direction. Normally I wouldn’t bother. I’m not the best at making friends or picking up on social cues, but in those brief moments when I do see him, he’s always already looking atme.
“Hey!” I catch up to him at his locker.
He jumps, stepping away from me, gripping his workbook to his chest.
“Your nose looks good,” I say, trying and failing to start a conversation.
Frowning, he runs a finger down the slope of it.
“Uh … I mean, it wasn’t broken after all. That’s good.” I stumble over my words, losing my train of thought. Bailey shifts his backpack then points his thumb over his shoulder as though he means to leave, but I pull on his sleeve to stop him. “Would you like?—”
“Bailey,” a voice says behind me.
I turn, coming face to face with Shane. His eyes narrow as he looks me up and down.
“Dean’s waiting for us; don’t want to keep him waiting,” he says, never taking his eyes off of me.
