Then he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Just tell me now how this isn’t a monumentally stupid idea. I like Sam. But I’ll promptly stop liking him if he does anything that upsets you. And I can’t see how this ends without both of you getting hurt.”
“We’re being sensible,” she insists. “We know there’s an expiry date on this. We know we’re friends before anything else.”
“I’d never do anything to hurt Kath,” I add quickly, wanting to inject myself into this conversation that seems to be about me but happening entirely around me.
Tom watches me. Long enough that I think he sees through my façade. That he knows that there is more to this for at least one of us.
“Fine,” he says.
I sag in relief.
“It’s your funeral,” he adds, leaning back in his chair. “At least you’re better than the last one.”
“Amen to that,” I mutter.
For the first time, Tom almost looks amused. Then he smirks.
“You know Mum and Dad always thought you two might like each other, right?”
I choke.
Kath freezes.
“But if they knew this would happen, they definitely wouldn’t have been so free with all those sleepovers you two had growing up.”
Her head snaps towards him. “I swear, Tom, if you tell them—”
“Nah.” He waves her off. “I won’t if you don’t want me to. I know you’ve kept enough of my secrets in the past. But if Aquaman’s staying here tonight, I want absolutely no funny business. I mean it.”
When he leaves, I let out a long breath. “God, I thought I was going to get punched.”
“Tom likes you.” Kath shrugs.
Like might be too strong, but he did use that stupid nickname again. At least that means my imminent murder is no longer on the table.
But as we sit down for dinner, part of me starts wondering whether Tom was right. Are we being stupid here? Kath’s made it clear from thatconversation that she doesn’t like me like that. But am I going to end up getting my heart broken?
I push the pasta around my plate silently. Kath and Tom chatter and bicker across the table, exactly as they always have, and it hits me how little this room has changed. The same chairs. The same scratches in the wood. Years of homework, science projects, film nights that ran too late.
I wonder how many more times I’ll sit here like this. How many ordinary moments are about to turn into something I’ll miss too much. I won’t be able to hear their laughter from the other side of an ocean. The Fords’ house feels as familiar as my own.
I already feel homesick for a place that isn’t even mine.
Chapter 21
Eighteen years old
Sam
“Are you sure you’ve got everything you need?” Kath surveys my now bare room and the two bags at my feet. “That doesn’t seem like enough suitcases.”
“I think so.” I adjust the suitcase next to me. “It’s mainly clothes, a some photos, and a few bits and bobs. The school pretty much provides everything else.”
“Do you have your lucky socks?” She moves to double check the list for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’ve never got why you’re obsessed with these socks, considering that you can’t wear them into the pool. Surely a cap would make more sense?”
“First thing I packed,” I tell her. “And they’re part of the pre-race ritual, along with re-reading your ‘You got this, Champ’text.”
We both pause and look around the room. The posters are still there, but they don’t look the same without the picture of my mum on the bedside table in front of them, or the books stacked on the desk.
