Falling Fast (6 page)

‘Don’t worry,’ I smiled. ‘I’ve got plenty of cash.’

Flynn stared up at me, the grin completely gone from his face. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, his eyes flashing with anger.

‘I’m fine,’ he snapped. ‘It’s sorted.’

He glared at me, as if challenging me to disagree.

My heart thudded. I looked away. What was his problem? I remembered how angry he’d looked when he’d caught me staring at his scuffed shoes and second-hand trousers back at that first
rehearsal.

‘River?’

I looked up. The anger had gone from his eyes, but he was still looking at me intently. I got that hot, powerful feeling of wanting him so badly that my legs nearly gave way. But this time I
didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust him.

‘You can even have a piece of cake if you want.’ He smiled weakly, holding out his palm to show me how much money was on it.

I shook my head.

There was an awkward silence as we shuffled to the head of the queue and Flynn asked for two cappuccinos. Large ones.

As we fought our way through the crowded shop to a small table near the window, I started to feel angry.

We sat down. Flynn took a gulp of his coffee. I sat back and folded my arms.

‘That was really rude,’ I said. ‘The way you spoke to me.’

His eyes darted up, a look of surprise on his face.

‘I know.’ He looked away. ‘I’m sorry.’

He took another gulp of coffee. I looked at his T-shirt more closely. It wasn’t just faded. It was all pulled out of shape at the bottom – like things get when you’ve washed
them too much. His jeans were the same. A good make, but frayed and worn. These clothes were as second-hand as his school uniform.

He still looked good in them, but they were undeniably cheap.

‘Why d’you care so much about not having any money?’ I said.

Flynn looked at me again. His expressive face told me quite clearly that he was staggered at my asking such a brazen question.

I was pretty staggered at myself. But there was something about Flynn that made me feel reckless. I mean, he was so open. So direct. Why shouldn’t I be?

Flynn put down his coffee mug and sat back in his chair.

‘Obviously you do have money,’ he said. ‘Or else you wouldn’t ask such a frigging stupid question.’

My heart pounded. We stared at each other for a long moment. It was like being locked in a cage with a lion. Terrifying. But exhilarating to be up close to something so powerful.

‘I don’t have that much money,’ I said defensively.

Flynn snorted. ‘I bet you even get an allowance,’ he said.

‘So what?’ I said, jutting out my chin. ‘That wasn’t a crime last time I checked.’

Flynn’s face dissolved into another smile. It was like seeing the sun come out after a storm. ‘You’re a bold piece,’ he said, grinning more deeply. ‘A bold piece.
That’s what my mum would say, anyway.’

I grinned back, relieved.

‘Have you got any other brothers or sisters?’ I said. ‘Apart from Siobhan.’

Flynn nodded. ‘I’ve got a younger sister too,’ he said.

I sat forward, transfixed by his eyes, by the elegant slope of his nose, by the perfect curve of his lips. ‘I’ve got a younger brother,’ I said. ‘Stone. He doesn’t
talk much. In fact he’s a pig, mostly, but . . .’ I stopped.

An incredulous expression had spread over Flynn’s face. ‘You have a brother called
Stone
?’ he said.

I could feel a red flush creeping up round my neck. I hate it when people take the mickey out of our names. I mean, it’s not our fault Mum and Dad spent the whole of the nineties smoking
pot and demonstrating against GM foods.

I shrugged, staring down at the table and cupping my mug in my hands. One of Flynn’s strong fingers pressed against my hand. The touch of it was like a burn.

I looked up at him.

‘Sorry. Again,’ he mouthed.

We stared at each other for a moment. Then I sipped at my coffee, trying desperately to think of something to say.

‘Your sister’s very pretty,’ I said. ‘Beautiful, actually.’

‘Yeah?’ Flynn looked mildly surprised. ‘Really?’

I nodded. ‘Her hair’s amazing. And she’s got a great figure.’

Flynn screwed up his face. ‘You’re not a lesbian, are you?’

‘No,’ I said indignantly, feeling myself blushing again. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, but no.’

Flynn laughed. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘That would be just my luck.’

My breath caught in my throat as his eyes rested on mine again.

Saying that . . . that meant he was interested, didn’t it? That definitely implied he was interested.

Flynn was still staring at me. Into me.

And then my phone buzzed.

I leaped about ten centimetres in the air, then pulled my mobile out of my trouser pocket. My blush deepened as I bent over the text message. How seriously uncool was it to jump when your own
phone rang?

Whre r u? G & me gng 2 look @ shop, bttm Brdwy. Wl go alone if u nt here in 2 . . . hurry up! x

Emmi. I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to meet her and Grace further up the High Street half an hour ago.

Oh no
. They were going to be walking down to the bottom of the Broadway. They’d pass right by this café. I looked around. We were sitting beside the window and all the other
tables were full.

If Emmi and Grace looked into the café and saw me with Flynn . . .

I couldn’t face it. This thing with Flynn was all so uncertain. So fragile. And my feelings were so confusing. No way was I ready to tell Emmi and Grace about it. Not until I was more sure
of how I felt. Right now it was private – it belonged to me and him.

No one else.

Flynn raised his eyebrows. ‘Who was that?’

I shook my head. ‘No one,’ I said. I didn’t want to tell him I was supposed to be meeting Emmi and Grace. He might suggest he came along to say hello or something.

I stood up. ‘I gotta go,’ I said. ‘I’m meeting someone.’

Flynn stood up too.
God
. He was so much taller than me. I felt suddenly ridiculous, only coming up to his chest like I did. I glanced up at him. For the first time since I’d met him
he looked unsure of himself, like he didn’t know what to say or do next.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ I said. My mouth felt dry. I didn’t want to go. But Emmi and Grace would be down here any second.

I turned and practically raced out of the coffee shop.

I spent the rest of the weekend reliving what had happened in the coffee shop. Thinking about Flynn.

I could feel myself falling for him. It was the weirdest sensation, like the thought of him was sucking me in – taking up all my energy.

I couldn’t believe I still knew so little about him. OK, so I was pretty sure he wasn’t well off and I knew he had a couple of sisters, but that was about it. Discovering those
things had only thrown up far more interesting questions, none of which I had satisfactory answers to.

Why was he so angry about being poor? Loads of people don’t have much money, but Flynn acted like it was . . . I dunno . . . somehow shameful.

And why was he so protective of his sister? It struck me when I thought about it that it was extremely odd for him to pick her up after work. I mean, she was older than him, and he was in the
sixth form: one year older than me. That meant she must be at least eighteen. Surely she could get herself home after work on her own?

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep on Sunday night. If only I’d been able to stay longer at the café, I might have worked some of it out. We could have talked about the play too.
I could have found out why Flynn had said it was great that I wasn’t Catholic. Why he didn’t like anyone using his first name, Patrick.

I could have given him the chance to ask for my phone number.

Jeez
. I could have asked him for his.

Instead, I’d met up with Emmi and Grace and had another coffee with them, then we’d set off for town, where – true to form – Emmi had spent her allowance on three pairs
of outrageously sexy heels and Grace had deliberated for half an hour over a new pair of trainers.

Part of me wanted to talk to them about Flynn. I knew if it was either of them, they would have gone on and on about him. In fact, Grace did go on and on about Darren. While Emmi let slip
– very casually, as if she wasn’t that bothered – that Alex had asked her to some party a week next Saturday.

But I couldn’t do it. Not just because of how uncertain everything was with Flynn, but because of how powerfully I felt about him.

How deep my wanting him went.

I approached Monday’s rehearsal in a state of high excitement. Surely Flynn was bound to say something to me today?

But he wasn’t there. And this time James had no reason to offer up.

Bitterly disappointed, I schlepped moodily home with Emmi and Grace afterwards. They were both buzzing from the rehearsal, which had gone well, despite Flynn’s absence.

‘Wasn’t it funny when Mr Nichols got Alex to do that sword fight with a folded-up piece of paper?’ That was Emmi.

Grace giggled. ‘Yeah. His face when it flopped over that time.’

She and Emmi clutched their mouths, remembering.

‘I thought it was stupid doing the fight without Romeo being there,’ I said grumpily.

Emmi and Grace exchanged glances.

‘I thought it was better without him,’ Emmi said, looking at me strangely. ‘He’s a bit weird if you ask me. You know. Intense.’

I shrugged. ‘I guess,’ I said.

‘And he always looks so angry,’ Grace added. ‘To be honest, sometimes he frightens me.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake, Grace,’ Emmi laughed. ‘You get scared over nothing. He’s just a bit weird. He’s not even that good-looking.’

I sat back, more glad than ever that I hadn’t said anything to them about my feelings for Flynn.

Flynn was at the next rehearsal – we were having two a week now, after school on Mondays and Thursdays. It was October – nearly half-term – and the play was
going to be performed the week before the end of term – the middle of December.

Mr Nichols spent the first ten minutes of our rehearsal time trying to impress upon us the importance of learning our lines over half-term and threatening to up the rehearsals to every night
during November.

I tried to catch Flynn’s eye while he was speaking, but failed. Flynn simply stared stonily down at his script the whole time Mr Nichols was talking. He didn’t look at me once during
the whole of the rehearsal either. And he didn’t come down to the common room afterwards for the orange juice. My stomach was in knots. Why had he changed? I was sure he’d been
interested in me when we were having our coffee. Why was he ignoring me now? Had I done something to annoy him?

The following week I wasn’t called for the Monday rehearsal, but the same thing happened on the Thursday. Flynn completely ignored me. I was beside myself. I
couldn’t work out what I’d done.

I started dreaming about him. Long, slow dreams in which he paced around me like a lion, getting closer and closer and finally reaching out to hold me, to kiss me. I would wake up sweating.
Unable to sleep. Unable to get him out of my head.

Emmi insisted Grace and I came to the party Alex had invited her to. It was over in Stoke Newington. I agreed with Mum that the three of us would get the night bus back together and sleep over
at mine. That meant she didn’t mind us getting back late – up to 1 a.m.

The others brought their stuff over to my house early. We set out the camp beds in my room and then took ages getting ready. We did each other’s nails and hair and tried on various
outfits. Emmi was in a skin-tight dress and a pair of the killer heels she’d bought two weeks before. I knew from the glint in her eye that Alex was definitely going to get lucky tonight. But
she didn’t talk about him at all. Instead, our conversation revolved around Grace’s Darren.

‘He’s okay,’ Grace said unenthusiastically, ‘but I’m starting to think he’s a bit boring.’

Emmi and I exchanged ‘we could have told you
that
’ glances, then Emmi persuaded Grace to wear this cropped, strappy top. It wasn’t Grace at all – though she looked
great in it. I could see Emmi was planning to launch Grace at one of Alex’s unsuspecting friends. She loves it when we go out with guys who get on – all the double-date possibilities
seem to give her a massive thrill. Just the idea of them.

‘What are you wearing, River?’ Emmi said, looking up from Grace’s hair, a section of which she was now teasing into a line of blonde mini-plaits.

‘Just this, I guess,’ I said, indicating my old jeans and the pale blue sleeveless top I was wearing.

‘No way.’ Emmi plumped up her hair like she meant business. She rummaged through my wardrobe then appeared with a low-cut black top with little spaghetti straps and a ruchy bit under
the boobs. ‘You have to wear this,’ she said. ‘It’ll make your tits look amazing.’

I stared at her. I’d bought that top on a whim weeks ago. I loved it, but whenever I put it on I always felt too big. Too exposed.

‘Everyone’ll stare at me,’ I said.

‘So?’ Emmi rolled her eyes. ‘That’s the point, isn’t it? At least you’ve got something to stare at.’

‘But River wants love,’ Grace giggled. ‘Not boys staring at her chest.’

Emmi snorted. ‘You won’t get one without the other,’ she said flatly. ‘Put it on.’

In the end, I put it on, but took my jacket too. If I felt too self-conscious, I could always put the jacket on top. Well, that’s what I told myself. Underneath, I was hoping the top
really did make me look good, and thinking that I’d only put the jacket on over it if Flynn wasn’t there.

As we traipsed downstairs, Stone was lingering in the hall. He was pretending to be reading a magazine, but I could see him sneaking long, lustful looks at Emmi while the three of us fussed and
flapped at the door, putting on some last-minute lipgloss.

Creep
, I thought. Then I remembered myself looking at Flynn in rehearsals and how it had felt when he’d stared back at me, and I blushed so deeply that both Grace and Emmi asked me
if I was feeling all right.