Page 18 of The Reunion

He flushes a shade of puce I’ve never actually seen on a human. ‘Well, yes, for a time, but of course I knew I had to pack it in as soon as I realised there was anything shady about it and leave before it all got, er, out of hand.’

Bryony’s head tilts sideways. ‘Really? You know, I’m sure I saw you post on LinkedIn about suddenly being made redundant – you were reaching out to your network to see if anybody had similar jobs going you could move on to.’

‘Well. Er. You know. It … coincided.’

Bryony’s scoff is audible. ‘Riiiight. I mean, I totally have some connections if you’re still looking, though. It’s got to be hard to move on after you’ve been sacked from a place that’s been dragged for filth by the media like that.’

‘Better to take the redundancy pay-out,’ he says, a bit too quickly and firmly, eyes whipping around the rest of us. ‘But technically I had already chosen to leave, so, that’s …’

‘I think I might go and get some pizza, you know,’ says Thea.

‘Good shout,’ Greg says.

The group peel away one by one, and not-Paul (what is his name? Do I care enough to ask if Ashleigh knows it? Probably not) vanishes, too, looking agitated and flustered.

‘What a prat,’ Ashleigh mutters.

I don’t know who she’s talking about – it could be his careful rearranging of the truth, or even Bryony for embarrassing him. But I nod anyway.

She steals a glance over her shoulder. Ryan has moved on somewhere else; Ashleigh scowls.

Oh, right. Him.

Maybe he had a point about that tunnel vision. Just a minor one.

Bryony gives us both a bright smile, completely oblivious, and moves to slot herself between us and steer us to another group of people. She loops her arms through ours and I’m too taken aback to pull away.

‘Come on, you two. Let’s go stir up some more gossip, shall we?’

I decide I’ve made a dreadful mistake tonight: self-imposed success markers aside, I should have bailed when I had the chance.

Chapter Ten

Ashleigh

‘Most Likely to Kill Each Other’

The glamour of being a popular girl for the night is fast wearing off.

Thanks, in no small part, to Ryan.

Bryony propels us to a spot near the pizzas, and I’ve done enough networking events to realise that it’s very purposeful. There’s so much foot traffic passing by this part of the hall now that it’s a prime position to see and be seen. Which, of course, is Bryony’s MO. Hayden looks a little uncomfortable, but also like figuring out a way to extricate himself is too awkward to contemplate, so he just stands quietly, his eyes tracking everyone who walks by with passive curiosity. He scratches absently at some glitter stuck to his neck.

It doesn’t escape my notice that Ryan has done a similar thing. Although, actually, I think it’s less a case of setting up camp where he can speak to everybody, and a bit more that he’s been ambushed on his way to grab some food.

With some uncanny sixth sense, he lifts his head and turns it precisely towards me. Not even looking around and catching sight of me. Right at me.

Has he been tracking me around the hall, like I have him?

I don’t smile, because Ryan has rarely been worthy of my smiles, and my expression sets in stone when he smirks at me, the bright, blinding flash of his teeth showing briefly as his mouth pulls up on one side.

It’s not like I’ve been watching him, but I feel like if I look away, it’ll prove some kind of point in his favour, so I stare and stare until that smug expression is wiped off his face and he has to shake himself a little before turning his full attention back to his conversation.

Good.

There’s a surreal quality about this whole night. A shiny gloss applied to everything – to me – that makes it all feel bigger, better, brighter. This is the way I dreamed of this reunion going: people fawning over how much I’ve achieved and how impressive they think my career is, the compliments on how I look or my clothes, the flash of envy in people’s eyes as they realise that for all my bravado and braggadocio back when we were teenagers, I’ve done it. I’ve done the things I said I would – and more.

I was right to think that this would all be worth it for the feeling of vindication when the people who used to put me down because I was ‘boring’ or just ‘not pretty enough’ are forced to admit to themselves that I was always enough. That I am more than they ever expected, and the stream of snide comments and snickering behind my back all those years has only hurt them in the end.

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