Page 13 of The Reunion

But what am I supposed to do? Let go of the idea of who I could have been? As long as these people believe I’m a successful actress, that I’m making a living as a performer, doing what I love, travelling the world and leading the exciting life I always said I would … As long as they believe I’m that person, then part of me still is. These people have become strangers, but they’re the ones who give life to the old dreams I’m not ready to let die just yet.

Maybe I won’t try to drum up a friendship with Ashleigh beyond tonight, after all. Maybe it’s – just not worth it.

Right now, all I can do is take back control of the room to say, ‘Well, if in doubt – gents, ask your girlfriends, wives, whatever. Do yourself a favour and google before asking Ryan. There’s a reason he’s not the Health Minister. But other than that – we’ve got some pizzas on the way, the guest book is by the door if anybody hasn’t had a chance to sign it yet … And have fun! Here’s to the Class of 2014 – most likely to have one more truly unforgettable night together!’

Chapter Eight

Steph

‘Most Likely to End Up Together’

‘Sweetie, I’m just going to get another drink. Do you want anything?’

Curtis shakes his head, busy talking about some sporting scandal that’s been making headlines lately with a few other guys he’s made friends with. I smile at the sight; there’s something that feels so inevitable about how he’s getting on so well with Priya and Morgan’s boyfriends. Like a jigsaw piece slotting right into place.

It really is like nothing has changed with the girls, and I can’t believe we’ve gone ten whole years hardly speaking to one another. The friendship is so natural, so constant, and the way we giggle and talk excitedly over each other makes my heart ache; theirs is a presence I didn’t even realise was missing from my life, and now I can’t imagine letting them go again. We’ve already put brunch in our calendars for next month and Morgan has reserved a table in a cute bistro she loves, and we’ve been talking about another group holiday as if we only just got back from the last one, and didn’t drift apart for no real reason after it.

It’s so nice to reconnect with the girls and to see everybody again. Ashleigh is an absolute bombshell these days, and Hayden talking excitedly about his daughters as soon as he gets the opportunity is the most adorable thing I think I’ve ever seen. It’s even good to see people I didn’t know all that well at school, nice to see them doing well and feeling like I’ve made some new friends.

There’s just one person I haven’t quite had the guts to go and catch up with properly yet, and I know I can’t avoid him all night.

Shaun has stuck near the tables with the food and drink, and I have the feeling it’s on purpose. He’s doing it for the same reason I’ve stuck to the opposite side of the hall near the windows – because if we stay in the same spot and let others come to us, there’s no chance of us accidentally bumping into each other.

Which is silly, because we didn’t end things on bad terms, and this is a reunion – the whole point is to bump into people you haven’t seen for ages. But it’s different, because this is Shaun we’re talking about.

I know, deep in my heart, that it’s different, because when I caught his eye after he arrived and smiled at him, he had that look on his face. After the momentary shock, his face softened, lips curving into a sweet, subtle smile that reached his eyes and turned them to melted chocolate. It was exactly the same expression as the one on the photograph of the two of us in my handbag.

I didn’t realise how nervous I was to see him again, or how much I needed that reaction from him, but the way it made my heart swell only makes me feel guilty. It’s not just the two of us anymore; we aren’t each other’s whole world and haven’t been for a long while. We’ve both moved on, built new lives with new people.

So … why does everything feel exactly the same between us?

For the last hour or so, we keep glancing towards the other at exactly the same time, or we’ll look around at everyone else only to find ourselves looking at each other, and share a quick smile before going back to our conversations. We always used to be so in sync; it’s astonishing that no distance or time apart could change that.

Even now, as I clutch my empty paper cup in both hands and make my way towards the table for a refill, I notice Shaun peel away from his group. His back is to me, so I know he hasn’t done it on purpose, but we arrive at the punch bowl at the same time – both standing there, facing one another, unable to do anything but drink in the sight of the person we first fell in love with.

Shaun’s hardly changed. His face still has that boyish quality to it that gives him a naturally approachable sort of aura, even if his jawline is a little more defined these days. There are smile lines around his brown eyes, and even if it’s a little longer and thinner these days, he’s still wearing his hair in that exact same style, combed into a neat quiff that accentuates his widow’s peak.

I know that face so well; I have to fight every impulse to reach up and touch it.

His mouth curves into a smile, his eyes fixed so intently on mine that I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. And his voice is soft when he says my name, so quietly that I shouldn’t be able to hear him over all the hubbub, but I do.

‘Hi, Steph.’

‘Hi,’ I say, and it comes out in a whisper. ‘Shaun.’

He lets out a long sigh, his breath ghosting over my skin and sending a small shiver down my spine; it’s as if he’s been craving hearing me say his name. As ordinary and inoffensive as the exchange is, it feels so heart-wrenchingly intimate that my eyelids flutter.

Shaun gets a hold of himself first; he turns towards the punch bowl and clears his throat, sparking me into action as I mimic his movements. He fills up his own cup and then holds out a hand to do the same with mine. Some horrible, hideous part of me wants to know how it feels when his fingers brush mine, if it will still send the same thrill through me as whenever he’d hold my hand around the school corridors or on weekend trips to the cinema, but my heart is in my throat and the guilt presses down on me harder, so I hand the cup over quickly and keep my hands to myself.

It becomes so hard to look directly at Shaun as he hands my drink back to me, if only for the undeniable flutter of butterflies in my stomach and the rapid pitter-patter of my heart. It’s hard to look at him and see the same tumult of old emotions resurfacing in him, too.

‘This is fab, isn’t it?’ I say, and now my voice sounds too loud, too rushed – I’ve turned into a nervous fourteen-year-old talking to a boy she likes for the first time outside of class. ‘The red carpet is so fun and I like the balloon arch. Have you taken pictures with it yet? We haven’t had a chance, all too busy playing catch-up. It’s funny, how much it feels like old times with everybody, don’t you think? And I like the presentation. Such a cute touch! Bryony must’ve spent ages finding photos of everybody to update it.’

I have to stop to catch my breath, and find myself stealing a glance at Shaun. His mouth is split into a wide smile and it’s one I recognise from way back when. He used to wear that look on his face when I’d fill him in on all the gossip and chatter about my day and the things the girls had said and the homework I’d gotten, like he can’t quite keep up, but he could listen to me talk all day.

Don’t do that, Shaun, please. I can’t handle it.

He pauses, and his eyebrows twist upwards in the middle ever so slightly as he silently asks if I’m done. My skin is flushed hot, and I gulp down half of the punch – and promptly try (and fail) not to choke at the burn of alcohol in it.

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