“Abs’s boyfriend!” someone yells.
Eggo looks at me with raised eyebrows. I pass the same look to Harry, who gives me a thumbs-up. I write that down.
“Lan’s not gonna be too happy about the pink unicorn costume, though,” Harry says.
“Well, Lan can’t have everything his way all the time.” Eggo waves away Abs. “The inflatable unicorn stays. Wait! It’s because it rhymes!”
“Huh?” everyone says in unison. We look around the room at each other, but everyone’s just as confused as the last guy.
“Pi and I. It rhymes, and that’s why it sounds weird. Okay, but now I realise it rhymes, I like it more.” He shakes his head while we’re still all sharing bewildered glances. “Final question, then . . . What song do we want to do our performance to? Should we vote on it?”
Gadget’s the only person to answer. “Pi should choose.” That’s all he says. Everybody turns to me.
Pink unicorn costume, pole dancing, super camp outfits . . . Surely there’s only one choice.
“I think I have the perfect song.”
Chapter 8
Finn
Friday 11thJune 2027
Pi had to buy a new suit for tonight’s black-tie gala celebration since his had recently been besieged by vomit and thorny rose bushes. It either fits him better than his previous one orit’s made from a more luxurious fabric, or a combo of the two, because I cannot take my eyes off him.
It’s dark inside the glittering hall. Candlelight dances across the tabletops, and the white tablecloths almost brush the floor. Nobody can see that I’ve unpicked my laces, taken my foot out of my shiny dress shoe, and I’m rubbing it against Pi’s ankle. Occasionally he smiles in my general direction, but he won’t look at me for too long.
Dan sits to my left. He’s had his arm around his wife for most of the night, as have most of the other Cents boys and girls who’ve brought their partners. Even Orlando has accompanied Abs, putting us all to shame in a fit that’s worth more than my Discovery.
Twice tonight I’ve been able to give Pi a sneaky congratulatory cuddle, one time when he won the Try of the Year trophy and another when he was awarded Coach’s Choice, but it’s mainly because neither of us have plus ones to celebrate with. It’s not enough. I want more. I want to hold his hand on the tabletop like everyone else is doing, kiss him, absorb him into my body through osmosis.
We’ve sat through a five course meal and most of the awards, with only the Player of the Year for both the men’s and women’s teams left to dole out. Everybody knows it’s already going to Gadget, so most people have already begun to let loose.
I slip my foot back into my shoe and squeeze Pi’s knee. “It is time.”
Time to put on a show.
He nods at me. “Let’s do this.”
Instead of letting him stand, I hold the pressure on his thigh, keeping him seated. There’s something I need to tell him first. Ask him.
“I . . . broke up with Megan,” I say.
Pi’s mouth forms a perfect “Oh,” but he stays silent.
“That’s why she’s not here tonight. She . . . we . . . agreed it was time to call it a day.”
He huffs out a breath. “Right.”
Fuck it, here goes nothing. “Come to Cornwall with me this summer. I want you to come home with me.”
All around us, the other Cents lads get to their feet in preparation for our little extravaganza. Eksteen and the other coaches glance at each other with frowns on their faces, and a low murmur breaks out. People ask their neighbours what’s going on.
“Don’t go to Australia. Stay with me instead. Six weeks of just you and me and sometimes my kid. We’d have to stay with my folks because nobody can afford an Airbnb in Cornwall for the entire summer holidays, but they’ll be going away for a couple of weeks, and I’ve booked a caravan break with Logan. Abs will still look after Trekkie.”
Pi’s mouth opens and his brow creases, and he glances around at our teammates who’re all disappearing off to the loos to get changed. He stands.
I’m acutely aware of Eksteen staring at us, but he’s on the other side of the table. There’s no way he can hear what I’m saying.
