Page 3 of You Float My Boat

‘My ex-girlfriend is joining my philosophy class, and I don’t want her to think I’m interested in her again.’

Out loud, to someone who didn’t know the history of Evie Waters, this plan sounded rather stupid. I couldn’t blame Violet when the tiny crease on her forehead deepened.

‘Why can’t you just tell her you’re not? And why do you assume that she’s interested in you?’

Both very good and valid questions. If only the answer was as simple. The answer was more than I cared to admit, because Evie had been the love of my life – my first love – and I knew it wouldn’t take long for her to wrap me around her little finger again. She would pull me back. It happened once before, I wouldn’t let it happen again.

She was the drug of choice for my addict heart.

She was equally as toxic.

‘Evie and I were together during sixth form. She cheated on me, and we broke up. When I started at Oxford, she was here too and we briefly got back together, but then she met someone else.’ My fist clenched ever so tightly causing cramp to shoot along my arm. ‘I’ve managed to avoid her for three years, but for some reason she always seems to think she can getme back. And this term she’s joining my philosophy class. I figured if she knew I had a girlfriend then she wouldn’t talk to me.’

There, that was enough explanation without revealing the sheer panic I felt at the thought of being in the same room as Evie again. I might be strong enough to bench press 180kg, but I was no match for Evie Waters, no matter how hard I tried.

I’d never told anyone the reason I changed my number in first year was because she wouldn’t stop texting me.

Violet sat back, pulling the stem of her glass to the edge of the table, and shifted it side to side between her fingers as she looked at me.

‘Charlie, do you want to make her jealous?’

I shook my head so hard my neck cracked. ‘No.’

‘You don’t want her back?’

‘Fuck, no. Never.’

‘So you want me to be your bodyguard,’ Violet began, a smirk cresting the corner of her plump lips, ‘I’m Kevin Costner and you’re my Whitney Houston?’

I wasn’t sure how I felt about being called someone’s Whitney Houston, but I shrugged anyway.

‘Why can’t you say no to her?’

‘Because …’ I sighed again, almost pathetically, ‘because she has this way of making me do what she wants. It’s like I’m under her spell, against my will.’

Violet’s head tilted slightly, I couldn’t tell if she was curious or pitying me. Either way, the silence stretched on far longer than I was comfortable with, made worse by the thoughts I imagined were playing out in her head.

I could probably guess.

‘Violet, I’ll pay you. Name your price.’

She grinned wide, her smile lighting up her face. The heat of the fire had deepened the flush in her cheeks, and the reflection of the flames danced in her eyes.

‘I’m not going to take your money, silly. I’ll do it for free. It’ll be the perfect experience forTwelfth Night. I’m hoping to get the lead. Auditions are next week.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, wondering why her response felt so anti-climactic, and whatTwelfth Nighthad to do with anything. ‘What were you thinking about then?’

‘What a girlfriend of yours would look like. I need to fit the part.’

I laughed, and the ball of anxiety stopped bouncing. ‘I think you fit just as you are.’

‘We’ll see, I like to throw myself all in.’

‘Are you studying drama?’ I asked, realizing I didn’t know.

‘English. But I joined the Dramatic Society, and my friend Cecily is directingTwelfth Nightat the Oxford Playhouse in May.’ Her eyes widened,dramatically. ‘And you’re studying philosophy? Do you like Nietzsche?’

‘I’m studying physics, actually. But I have physics and philosophy this term.’

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