Page 69 of The Reunion

‘There’s been a power cut?’ Steph blurts, and suddenly the lack of lights from the building make sense.

Bryony’s lips purse.

‘We weren’t copping a feel, for the record,’ Steph mumbles, although I don’t think anybody even hears her over the whoops and jeers, and she slinks over to the front of the crowd to where her girls are. Where Curtis is. He’s laughing, though, like he can’t even imagine her thinking about doing something like that, and when she’s close enough he seems to ask with concern about her ripped dress. His arm slips around her shoulders and Steph closes her eyes as she leans into his body, her hand braced against his stomach.

It twists like a knife in my gut.

A little way off, Aisha jumps up from a gaggle of people to flap a hand at me.

She wriggles out of the crowd to come over, her arm sliding around my waist and a kiss landing on my cheek, then hisses in my ear, ‘Where the hell have you been? What happened? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’

‘Something like that …’

Bryony is apparently not finished with her roll-call exercise and after a terse sigh in my direction and a pointed glare in Steph’s, she continues ticking off names against the guestbook.

Aisha says, ‘So that explains where you disappeared off to – you were hanging out with your ex.’

Now the guilt starts to well and truly kick in. Did I really almost kiss Steph back there when I’d left my fiancée waiting for me inside? Am I really hoping to sweep it all under the rug now?

‘Did you guys have a good chat?’ Aisha continues, but it’s more polite than it is suspicious, and I fight hard not to squirm.

I shrug.

‘Right. Well, it’s good to know that you abandoned me at your own school reunion to go talk to your ex, and not even have the courtesy to let me know. I was getting worried about you, dropping off the face of the earth like that for a whole hour. I know how things were with you two – it’s been like, ten years since you broke up, and you were just kids when you dated anyway. It’s not that deep. What, do you think I would’ve bitched you out and had a problem with it? Give me some credit, Shaun. We’ve been together for five years. We’re getting married. You’re allowed to talk to some girl you knew when you were a teenager – it just would’ve been nice to have a little heads-up, that’s all.’

‘You’re right,’ I say, because it’s all I’ve got. ‘I’m sorry.’

Aisha nods, like she gets it, and I see in her face that she absolutely doesn’t, and – there it is. The doubt that begins to creep in. It’s not quite suspicion tainting the sparkle in her eyes, but something worse: worry, insecurity.

I squeeze her closer to reassure her she’s got nothing to worry about, and wonder if she can feel the lie in it.

I don’t even know if it is a lie. It’s pure uncertainty, and somehow, I think, that’s worse.

And then I hear myself blurting out, ‘You’re not going to ask me if anything happened? If I kissed her, or something?’

Aisha only rolls her eyes and scoffs. ‘Please. The state the two of you showed up in, but her lipstick is totally perfect? I don’t need to insult us both by asking.’

But she doesn’t laugh, and doesn’t quite meet my eye when she brushes a few twigs and some mud off my shirt, and it feels off enough that I know she’s not asking for the same reason I’m not telling her, because we both know the answer to a question like ‘did you kiss her’ is a lot more complicated than just yes or no.

Bryony finishes up tallying names of people, and then studies the guestbook. My thumb draws arcs on Aisha’s waist. A short way off, Steph and Curtis are having a hushed conversation and it looks serious – Morgan, Thea and Priya seem to have formed a protective wall in front of them and Curtis’s head is bent low over hers, like a human blanket fort. His arms are around her, and Steph’s hands flutter in between them in what I recognise as part of her usual emotive storytelling.

Is she telling him everything, or reassuring him?

I kiss the side of Aisha’s head as I turn away, feeling sick as I wonder what I should be telling her. Feeling sick that there’s anything to tell at all, and that I want to think of a good fucking way to spin it to spare her feelings.

She clings tightly to me, in a way that feels like a goodbye.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Hayden

‘Most Likely to Succeed’

It isn’t, really, anywhere near as much of a fuss as Bryony was making it all out to be. I set up the stepladder that’s propped against the open cupboard; it’s covered in flecks of paint and the metal groans before clicking into place, but it’s sturdy enough when I climb up. The switches on the fuse box are all quite clearly labelled, even if the ink is a bit faded with time. I flip the master switch and lights flicker back on instantly. I hear them click and hum throughout the school; even the computer on the caretaker’s desk whirs as it powers back up. I reset the fire alarm, too, finding the correct panel and switch.

It takes all of about two minutes, but when I climb down from the stepladder, I take a seat and sigh, burying my head in my hands, needing a moment.

I feel like this night has lasted for a thousand years. It feels like eons ago since I left the hall to follow Bryony. Even my phone call to say goodnight to Margot and Skye could have been whole decades ago.

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