Page 22 of The Reunion

I fight off the melancholy that threatens to choke me – I’m playing a part. I am not that person. I am not me, I am her. My smile eases a little bit.

And, because I know this is my cue to respond, I say, ‘One day. Just you wait.’

Chapter Twelve

Steph

‘Most Likely to End Up Together’

‘There you are, sweetie, I was just – oh! It’s … It’s you.’

Too startled to do anything but stare, I feel a blush creep over my cheeks at my mix-up. It wouldn’t be so awkward if I’d mistaken anybody else here tonight for Curtis, but …

Shaun’s hand stays where it is, his cool fingers on my bare elbow sending sparks shooting through my veins and making it all the more obvious to me how my skin seems to be burning all of a sudden. Can he tell? Surely he can feel the sprint of my pulse beneath his fingertips.

His eyes remain locked on mine; there’s something agonisingly still about him, and I’m not even sure if he’s breathing. His normally smiling mouth is drawn into something straighter and more serious than I’m used to, the upwards arch of his eyebrows giving his expression a plaintive quality that I know will triumph over any resistance I have. The look takes me back to the last summer before university, and his gentle, hopeful question about how we’d try long-distance, wouldn’t we? And the quickness of my response – yes, yes, of course, how could he think otherwise? This was us; we would make it work. Breaking up just because we were going to universities four hours apart was never even up for consideration, as far as I was concerned.

Now, though, Shaun says, ‘I don’t suppose you’d fancy … going somewhere for a chat?’

If my blush was starting to recede, his words bring it back with a vengeance. My entire face feels like it’s on fire and Shaun’s eyes widen immediately as he hears his own words. He snatches his hand from my arm, and goosebumps rise there.

Go for a chat, we always used to say, when we were among friends and wanted a few quiet minutes of privacy to share a kiss or lean into each other without everybody else’s eyes on us. We both had our limits when it came to PDA.

The words conjure up memories of slipping away to deserted corridors on rainy lunchtime breaks while everybody else was huddled around the good radiator, Shaun’s arms slipping around my waist and my hands sliding inside his blazer, chasing his body heat, my head tilting up to his to accept a deep, dizzying kiss.

I wonder which particular memory it brings to Shaun’s mind, and take a little comfort in the simple fact he shares in my awkwardness right now. He laughs, and some of the tension in my shoulders unfurls.

‘Not like that,’ he clarifies, rolling his eyes at himself. ‘I just meant – maybe we could have a proper catch-up, somewhere a bit … less noisy? Away from … all this.’

The hand that was just on my arm gestures widely around us and I instinctively follow it, glancing around the hall. Bryony is talking loudly and emphatically about a community theatre project she helped out with a little while ago, positioned in the path of one of the little light-boxes so that the pink strobe hits her sequinned outfit and casts a sparkling display. Some people have started dancing near the stage; Hayden and Ashleigh are doing some odd, coordinated dance that people are clapping along to, and Freddie Loughton is loitering nearby. The rest of the rugby lads are sprawled on some chairs by the windows; Ryan is with them, sat bent forward on his knees and nodding intently, apparently listening to something Tommy is saying, but he seems to be looking over to the dance floor instead. Morgan, Priya and the others are standing a little way off, giggling and chattering animatedly in a way that makes me itch to join them – I can see myself going over and Thea slipping an arm around my waist as I’m drawn in, and everybody pitching together to update me on whatever story I’ve missed, just like old times.

But the pull towards Shaun is stronger, and I keep my eyes on the hall a beat longer, even as I’m acutely aware of him sucking in a sharp breath, waiting for my response, and the way his hands begin to fidget.

On a cluster of chairs in the corner between the doors and the windows, Curtis is sat with a few people. Morgan’s boyfriend is there, and Hiro from the rugby team and Shaun’s friend Josh. Everybody looks relaxed, with plates of half-eaten pizza on their laps or a drink in hand, engaged even if they’re less energetic (possibly simply ‘less drunk’) than some of the other people in the room.

I lost Curtis about fifteen minutes ago as the groups we were talking to had migrated around the hall, but didn’t think very much of it. Curtis is good at getting on with people and – while I might be a bit biased – I think he’s the sort of guy that’s instantly likeable. He’ll find common ground, listen attentively and ask thoughtful, interesting questions. It’s one of the things I find most endearing about him.

And we’ve never been one of those couples that are completely co-dependent and only come as a package deal. Working in the same office, we set some boundaries very early on; we didn’t want to make ourselves the subject of workplace gossip or drama by making it so obvious we were together, attached at the hip and never seen apart. So while I don’t feel obliged to go and join him now, or that he’ll worry, it seems … wrong, somehow, if I were to vanish altogether.

With my ex-boyfriend. The first great love of my life.

How would I feel, in his shoes? If he were to sneak off with his ex, away from prying eyes and ears, leaving me at a party where I know nobody?

But – no, that’s not fair. I trust Curtis, and I know what kind of man he is. If he were seeing his first proper girlfriend for the first time in ten years – someone he dated as a teenager – then I wouldn’t begrudge him a quiet catch-up. It’s the natural thing to want to do, and I’d probably think it was quite sweet. I wouldn’t be worried about him sneaking off to snog someone he hasn’t seen in almost a decade, for goodness’ sake.

He trusts me, too. And – and, well, Shaun’s got a fiancée. He means it in all innocence, I know that. We’re adults, now, we’re going for a mature conversation, not to steal a kiss between classes.

We’re not doing anything wrong.

I’m just being silly, that’s all.

I draw a breath and turn back to Shaun with a smile I hope reaches my eyes. ‘Alright then.’

There’s a flicker in his eyes, and … I don’t recognise it. Uncertainty, perhaps, or it could be resolution. It’s gone before I can pinpoint it, though, and he nods before gesturing towards the doors in an ‘after you’ motion.

I’m too aware of each step I take; it feels like I’m running, fleeing, even as it happens in slow motion, the hall bending and warping around me and the doors looming large but never quite getting closer like in a bad dream. The music and laughter and voices become muffled, the only clear sound my heart beating in my ears and the click of my heels on the floor.

And then I’m at the doors and my eyes are focused only on Curtis. I’m directly in his eyeline and I freeze, my fingers on the cold metal handle, my entire body vibrating as I wait for him to notice me, to ask me what I’m doing.

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