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“That’s an excuse. You’re a coward.”
Cleo continues talking like she didn’t hear me. “And besides, I knew he’d tell you anyway.”
“Who? Lucas?”
“Yeah. He said he would. Threatened me and everything.”
I frown. “Threatened you?”
“Told me to not even dare to lie to you or twist the facts or try to get out of it. While he was at it, he told me exactly what he thought of me. Said he never liked me from the beginning, called me a bitch. What a fuckhead.” Her eyes flash, and the fury on her face takes me aback. “You know why I didn’t reach out? Because Lucas told me not to.”
I shake my head. “He didn’t. That’s a lie.”
She shrugs. “The implication was there. He’s a psycho.”
“So what happened, exactly?” I ask, leaning against the sink and crossing my arms. “You sleep with him, and in the morning he calls you a bitch and throws you out? Is that why you hate him so much — did you think he’d be your boyfriend?”
Her brow creases. “Who are you talking about?”
“Lucas,” I say, annoyance rippling through me. Obviously, Lucas. Is she going to try to play dumb now?
“Lucas?” Cleo echoes. “What about Lucas?”
My annoyance doubles, and I grit my teeth. “What happened between you two? You have sex in his bed, I know that, and then the next morning —”
“What are you on about?” Cleo interrupts. She’s looking at me like I’m crazy, a line between her brows. “I didn’t have sex with Lucas.”
Everything goes silent. Even the music downstairs and the voices from the next room. All of it fades away.
I blink. “What?”
“I didn’t have sex with Lucas,” Cleo repeats. “Where did you get that from?”
For a moment, I wonder if she’s trying to gaslight me, but the shock and confusion on her face looks real.
“I — he…” I trail off.
He told me.
“Who did you have sex with?” I ask.
Cleo hesitates for a moment but meets my eyes when she replies, “Gilly.”
I stare at her. The house is still silent, and then the noise whooshes into startling clarity—loud, too loud—and I remember why I came up here: to splash water on my face, because my skin was hot and itchy, and it feels like that now, only a hundred times worse.
I walk past her and leave the bathroom.
“Charlie?”
I ignore her, heading towards the stairs.
Her voice follows me, calling me, but it only prompts me to walk faster. I practically slide down the stairs and shove my way through the dancing crowd. The music is so loud down here that it hurts my ears, but even so, I can still hear Cleo shouting my name.
I’ve made it to the living room when Lucas appears in front of me, face creased with concern. His eyes flick from me to Cleo behind me. His lips part to say something, but I don’t give him the chance. I push past him, through the front door, and out from under the veranda. Something cold is splattering against my skin, and only then do I realise it’s raining.
I stare for a moment at the raindrops dotting my jeans in navy splotches and a puddle seeping into my sneakers. Then I continue down the path that cuts through the front garden and out on to the street. I walk faster, and faster, and faster until I’m almost running.
*
