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‘Hello, Fletcher,’ I say, nice and civil, just like I promised I would be.
‘Hey.’ He beams at me, and it’s dazzling. Not so much the rows of straight white teeth (although sure, those too), but the brightness in his eyes, the radiance of that expression. He looks genuinely happy to see me.
No – not happy to see me. Just … He’s happy to be here, that’s all. Hanging out with everybody. Infiltrating our cohort, or whatever. That smile is all Lloyd; it’s nothing to do withme.
‘What’re you doing here?’ I ask.
‘Dad always sends me along for this; he hopes I might learn something.’ Lloyd rolls his eyes. ‘LikeI don’t already spend a good chunk of my time here – getting underfoot and in the way, he reckons.’
Lulled into a false sense of companionship by his tone, I almost say something like,That sucks, or maybe,Why do you come here so often?But Lloyd checks himself before I can decide what to say – reminding me that whatever we are now, it’s a far cry from the night we met.
He gives a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘He’s probably not wrong, huh? Anyway, it’s a great tour. Always something new to learn! Plus, I get to hang out with you guys, so that’ll be fun, too.’
Oh, sure. I can’t think of anything more fun than spending the day with a guy who kissed me then treated me like dirt. But I bite my tongue – because wedidpromise to be civil, and I don’t want the others suspecting anything is off between Lloyd and me, asking questions I can’t answer.
‘I missed that,’ I tell him, turning back to the infographic. Something uneasy has swelled in my chest and I tamp it down quickly. ‘The whole Fletcher, arrow thing.’
‘Wanna know a secret? I didn’t make the connection until I was, like, twelve. I was reading some high fantasy book where they talked about this guy being afletcher and making arrows, and it was a total light-bulb moment.’
My lips start to twitch up in a smile, but I catch it, pull it back and hide it away.
‘I don’t need to know any more of your secrets. I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ I say, very quietly.
He starts to reply, and falters. I feel the shift in his mood: it’s like the sun moving behind clouds, everything feeling a little greyer, a littleless, than before. I feel a little flare of resentment at him for wearing his heart so much on his sleeve that the change is so obvious. Can’t he keep a lid on it, like the rest of us?
‘Sorry,’ he mumbles.
He takes a step off to the side, putting more space between us. It makes some tiny, irrational, too-loud part of me want to snatch at his arm and pull him back in, or turn and smile at him sohe’llsmile again.
I try my best to pretend I don’t notice, going to join the others instead, and leaving him alone in the corner.
Our tour guide for the day is a scientist. Anactualscientist. A ‘notthatkind of doctor’ kind of doctor. Dr Paulson has salt-and-pepper hair and a pep in his step, and the more he tells us about the work in the labs, though it’s clearly a well-rehearsed spiel he’s delivereddozens of times before, the more enthusiastic his voice gets.
This guy clearlyloveshis job.
It makes me love it, too.
Although most of the more technical details do go a little over my head, hard as I try to grasp them. Dr Paulson is approachable enough that I do ask a few questions, but after Tasha scoffs when I ask what an electromagnet is, I stop.
It doesn’t escape my notice that after I resort to furtively googling things on my phone instead, Lloyd, who’s managed to position himself just behind me in the group, mumbles brief explanations to me as Dr Paulson goes animatedly through his talk.
I don’t have tolikehim, but I do appreciate the help.
While most of the others look politely interested and a bit overwhelmed, it’s clear that a couple of them are absolutely in their element here. Izzy – a biochem student – is full of curiosity and hangs off Dr Paulson’s every word; Dylan has no end of precise, intricate questions – so much so that Nadja laughs and says maybe he’ll need to spend a couple more days here with Dr Paulson, or we might never get through the rest of the tour. Dylan flushes, though he looks more pleased than offended.
There’s a quick break for lunch at the cafe on site. Nadja leaves us to take a call, and Dr Paulson returns to his desk for a while.
Lloyd stays with us, though. Sitting between Monty and Elaine, telling some funny story about how he broke a display scooter when he was seventeen, complete with exaggerated expressions and demonstrations that have him half-stood up, arms flailing as he acts it out and makes a spectacle of himself.
‘Thing is, I didn’t realize it wasn’t even a real prototype – it was just a mock-up of what it wasgoingto look like. It was just a regular scooter, but it wasn’t even put together solidly. Because it’s just for display, right? So I’m checking nobody’s looking – reception’s empty – and I grab it to go for a quick spin around the room. Just as I take off, in walks my dad and Nadja with a bunch of bigwigs from Birmingham City Council so they can show off what they’re working on … And thereIam, on this scooter thatimmediatelyfalls apart, and I just roll up to them on essentially a skateboard, holding this handlebar that’s not attached to anything …’
‘Oh my God.’
‘No way!’
‘That’shilarious.’
I watch as everybody hangs off his every word, all of them laughing. Monty digs him playfully in the ribs with his elbow. Izzy has actualtearson her face, she’s creased up so much.
