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“Don’t let it go to your head.” She puts the coffee on the counter before turning back to face me. “We were going to have a late breakfast. Bit of a debrief. Eat pastries, drink too much coffee, emotionally analyse minor facial expressions. The usual.”
“Sounds like a packed agenda.”
Sophia laughs and lowers herself into one of the armchairs, tilting her head as she surveys me. Her gaze reminds me of Claire’s, and even their mannerisms have similarities.
“Well, it’s a full-time job being a younger sister.” She crosses her arms. “I have to gather data to build psychological profiles and spot red flags.”
“How am I scoring so far?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, considering. “Undecided. You brought coffee, which shows effort. But also that coffee is a war crime. And those texts… Pretty sure they define red flag behaviour. Or maybe awkward flag behaviour, if that’s a thing. Though awkward flag probably means green flag, I’m still working that one out.”
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m trying.”
Her smile widens. “I know.”
Sophia seems to take pity on me and changes the subject, telling me about her current job, using her maths degree to do some kind of coding and modelling for banks. It sounds like an abstract language designed by particularly cruel aliens. I nod along and try to look intelligent, though I understand maybe thirty percent of what she’s saying and that’s being generous. In return, she asks about teaching, and I tell her about my favourite sixth form class, and how to manage the stress of the exam year groups, which always seems to start months before exams are even in sight.
Sophia nods thoughtfully. “That sounds… intense.”
“It is. But when you see one of them get it? Like, when something actually clicks? It makes the stress of the classes worth it.”
Sophia studies me for a second, then gives a thoughtful hum.
“Ok,” she says. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Why she likes you.”
I’m caught off guard by her honesty, my brain catching on the phrase. “Really?”
Sophia raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t answer, instead taking my empty coffee cup and putting it in the bin. I take a moment to look around the flat again. It’s so distinctively Claire. There are stacks of books on the shelves, some fiction and a surprising number of history books. A sketch pad sits on a desk, alongside a watercolour kit. The cushions on the sofa are all bright colours. Sunshine colours. Buttercup yellow. Spring greens. On the kitchen table is a stack of Post-it notes in pink and green, all covered with biro pen doodles. I catch the edges of a sketch of her street and a pair of hands.
Sophia is just giggling at a joke about Claire’s taste in books when we hear the sound of the door opening.
Chapter 8
Claire
In hindsight, hot yoga after a few glasses of wine might not have been my brightest idea. Even after the twenty-minute walk home, I’m still flushed, sweat-damp and fully resembling someone who’s lost a fight with both their emotions and a hairdryer.
But I’m fine. I’ve done the whole breathwork thing. I’ve convinced myself that The Kiss was a one-time lapse in judgement. A blip. A moment of poor decision-making fuelled by wine, mutual sexual attraction and a desire to follow my own wishes rather than my mother’s for once.
Then I open the front door and I hear laughter. My sister’s laugh followed by a deeper voice.
I freeze, halfway into the hallway, keys still in my hand.
Fuck. Tom’s here.
When he asked if he could “see me tomorrow”, I’d assumed he didn’t really mean it. Because the thing about “see you tomorrow” is that usually at some point around midday a person texts with a random excuse, both parties pretend to believe the excuse, and honour is preserved all round. Instead Tom’s already here. Who arrives this early?
Teachers. Teachers do that.
My heart does a little flip at the fact he’s here, and then I curse it for being traitorous. This is not good. This isn’t fulfilling my plan of an ultimate avoidance strategy.
Because for all my yoga I alighted on two things:
Firstly, he’s a bad choice considering he’s the older brother of one of my best friends.