Page 20 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

Still walking, Chrissie looked at Nisha, whose eyes were on the ground, her hair sparkling with raindrops. “I felt like that too.”

Neither of them spoke, but in silent agreement they had ended up on Chrissie’s doorstep.

But they weren’t the only ones.

There was a man standing there with a large golfing umbrella, long white hair and a blank expression on his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Chrissie, blood roaring in her ears.

Chapter Fifteen

The night it rained was two weeks into their garden stay. The tent had become their home, and Chrissie and Nisha retreated there each night to sleep, side by side in their sleeping bags. It had been a hot and humid day, and the storm that hit was almost therapeutic in its violence. It had broken the intimate moment that had come so close to opening up between the two girls. There was the immediate scent of petrichor, and a deafening pummelling of raindrops on the canvas.

“I hope it’s waterproof,” said Nisha, looking up nervously.

“We’re about to find out,” replied Chrissie, smiling. “But a little bit of water won’t harm us.” She looked up. “It seems to be holding.”

There was a crash of thunder. “Wow,” said Nisha. “I’m not going to be able to have a wee any time soon, am I? I should have gone earlier when we got the ice-cream.”

“Not if you want to stay dry,” said Chrissie, buzzing with the storm and the feelings swirling inside her. “Come on, let me distract you.”

Nisha raised her eyebrows. Chrissie continued: “This book is really good. I can sense something is about to happen. I’ll read it to you.”

“Alright,” said Nisha, lying back, her hands behind her head. Chrissie sat cross legged beside her, enjoying their closeness.

Chrissie began to read. “Lady Amelia needed to get to the stables, to find Pine, the stable hand. She couldn’t wait any longer for answers. What on earth was Pine thinking, coming into the manor house, leaving her a note? She had no interest in a secret tryst with someone whose job was to care for the horses. How dare Pine assume that she would.”

“Ooh, secret tryst,” said Nisha, “I’m interested now.”

“Shh,” said Chrissie, before continuing. “She arrived to find Pine perched on a hay bale, sipping from a hip flask. ‘My father will hear of this, Pine,’ she spat. ‘I have no idea why you thought you could send me such a note and believe you would keep your position here.’ Pine stood and walked towards Amelia, smirking before speaking: ‘I think you know full well why I sent you that note, m’Lady. After the riding session yesterday, I think you made it very clear what you wanted.’ Colour rose in Amelia’s cheeks, but she couldn’t place exactly why. ‘Pine,’ she started, but was cut off by the stable hand. ‘Really, m’Lady, I think you should use my first name. Sarah.’ Amelia felt something that was like fury, but not fury, build in her chest.”

“Sarah?” exclaimed Nisha. Chrissie felt her own cheeks warm, and adjusted her position so she was lying beside Nisha, rather than looking at her. She could feel heat emanating from her friend’s arm, but tried to block it out somewhere between the book and the pounding rain.

Chrissie continued to read. “‘You are impudent, Sarah Pine,’ said Amelia, although her voice had now softened. ‘What if I am?’ replied Sarah, with a wink. ‘I think you’ve had enough of people bowing and scraping.’ Sarah took the lady’s hand andbowed low and long, before kissing her knuckles. ‘Sarah,’ said Amelia, barely above a whisper. The stable hand straightened. ‘Amelia,’ she said, no more teasing in her eyes, only desire.”

“Only desire!” scoffed Nisha.

“Shush,” said Chrissie, annoyed that Nisha seemed to be making light of the story. “Amelia stepped forward, grabbed Sarah’s ragged collar and pressed their lips together. A moan came from Amelia, as Sarah pushed her back towards a gnarled oak post in the stable wall.” Chrissie stopped reading. She didn’t know if she should continue. She didn’t want to risk Nisha’s ridicule. But she wanted to know what happened next, and what surprised her most was that she wanted Nisha to know as well.

“Why did you stop?” asked Nisha, pushing herself up on one elbow.

“You think it’s silly,” said Chrissie, an edge to her voice that she didn’t recognise.

“When did you become a mind reader? You don’t know what I’m thinking right now.”

The rain beat a rhythm on the canvas, hiding the way Chrissie’s breath quickened. “I can guess,” she said, raising her voice over the sound of the torrent.

“You’re guessing wrong,” Nisha told her, turning on her side to face her friend. “But what I want to know is what you’re thinking? Why are you so sensitive about this?”

Chrissie remained resolutely on her back. She felt like Nisha was teasing her, that she had been found out, somehow. That Nisha could see that the story had made Chrissie blush, that it had given words to something she had been feeling. Something she had been feeling about Nisha. She was irrationally angry with Nisha about this, even though she knew this was unfair.

“Talk to me, Chris,” said Nisha, laying a cool hand on Chrissie’s forearm. Chrissie could feel goosebumps formingimmediately beneath it, and was tempted to pull it away. But she didn’t. She lay there, still, breathing. Nisha stayed silent, knowing her tent-mate well enough to realise sometimes it was better to wait for her to organise her thoughts.

Chrissie sighed. “Alright,” she said. “Ok, I like this book. I like this story. It’s so much more exciting than anything else I’ve read.” The words seemed to release her, and she turned on her side to face Nisha. “It’s more exciting than any boy I’ve kissed. It means more, it feels more and I’m not sure what that means.”

“I think you know what that means,” said Nisha. Chrissie could feel her friend’s breath on her face. “And you’re not alone.”

Chrissie closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the sounds, the feelings, the sensations pulsing through her.

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