“Fuck me, you’re taller than I remember,” he says. “I swear every time you come back from a few weeks away from school, you’re even more stacked. We were just talking about how we drool over your topless photos, weren’t we, girls?”
I flush bright red. I can’t look Sam in the eye. Ben’s right, he does look taller. And more muscled. His arms are straining against his T-shirt. And I know his abs are defined too, because I’ve seen them before. Argh, stop thinking about topless Sam.What is wrong with me?
“That isnotwhat we were saying,” I counter. “You’re misconstruing the entire conversation.”
“Doth the lady protest too much?” Ben smirks, and I elbow him for the third time in as many minutes.
“Looking at topless photos of me, KitKat?” Sam grins. “Just ask for the real thing.”
I flush even more, lost for words. When did Sam get flirty? Or maybe he’s just joking, and I’m the one misconstruing things… again?
“You’re the worst,” I tell him as Ben cackles behind us. “For your information, the only topless photos I’ve seen are the ones the rest of the country has, and I was talking about the school website. Everyone needs to calm down.”
“Sure thing.” He winks at me.
We mingle with our other friends, and I stick by Sam as person after person comes by to congratulate him. I know how much he hates attention, and I’ve become used to providing a buffer over the years. He’s smiling and joking, but I can hear his tone getting a bit tired when he recounts the same stories about the Olympic Village to the latest person to arrive. His smiles are beginning to get stilted in a way I don’t think anyone else would have noticed.
“I think you might be something of a big deal now,” I tease him when we finally manage to escape for a quick break. “Don’t worry, I’ll forcibly change the subject next time.”
“Thanks.” Sam gives me a grateful smile. “I don’t know how many times I can tell the same anecdotes.”
I top up my wine glass in the kitchen whilst he locates some crisps. People are getting steadily tipsier back in the living room, the hubbub of noise spilling over into other rooms. I breathe in the calm of the kitchen and open a window so that we can both cool ourselves on the breeze that curls into the room.
“Anyway,” Sam continues. “You still did way better in your GCSEs than I did. You’re the other school celebrity. I think Mr Rudd is probably prouder of you than he is of me.”
I wave off his comment about the headmaster, and we stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes, munching away on the crisps.
“We need to celebrate your results.” He nudges me with his elbow. “You need some kind of reward for doing so well.”
I smile at him softly. It’s a lovely sentiment, but I don’t need anything. I did it for myself, after all. I need good results to get into medical school. Whenever anyone else spoke about wanting to be an astronaut one week, or a dog walker the next, I only ever wanted to be a doctor. At least I’m one step closer. It made the reading of flashcards and endless, endless notes worth it.
“Watching you get two medals was enough for me,” I tell him, and he blushes.
He’s opening his mouth to reply when we’re interrupted by the sound of Claire chanting, “Game! Game! Game! Game!” from the living room. I cock an eyebrow at Sam, who heaves out a sigh before pulling me down from where I’m perched on the kitchen counter and leading me through the house. He plonks himself into the armchair, and I sit on the floor in front of him as our friends form a loose circle in the living room. There are more people here than I’d realised; in fact, most of our form and even a few people from other schools take up most of the space. I know that Sam doesn’t like this type of thing. I lean back on his legs reassuringly and his hand finds its way to my shoulder.
“What are we playing?” asks Ben. “I love a drinking game.”
“As if you play many drinking games,” Claire scoffs. “I think we should play Never Have I Ever.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Do we have to?”
I don’t think this is going to end well. Last time we played this people used it to throw around thinly veiled threats about secrets they knew.
“Yes,” she pouts at me in a tone that doesn’t leave much room for discussion, flicking her hair over her shoulder and taking another sip of her drink. “We’re nearly in sixth form. We get to have fun and play drinking games. I’m starting.” She surveys the room and smiles. “OK then. Never have I ever won an Olympic medal.”
We all laugh as Sam sheepishly takes a swig of his beer.
“Watch out, mate,” Josh warns him. “You’ll be a total lightweight.”
He’s right. I’ve never seen Sam drink before. How many has he had this evening? I frown as I try to work it out. Maybe three over the few hours that we’ve been here. He’s probably already buzzed. It’s not legal, but most of our friends find a way to get a drink or two at parties. I do too. I’m just always very careful, and know exactly where my limit is.
“Noted,” says Sam. “But it’s worth it. One of my few nights of fun. OK. Never have I ever got with someone on school grounds.”
Most of the group drink. Sam’s absentmindedly stroking my shoulder again, and I lean back into his legs with a sigh. His hands are making me sleepy. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last in this game. I’m covering a yawn when Josh toasts me with his drink before his go.
“Never have I ever got straight A stars.”
Claire lets out a whoop. They all knew my results anyway.
