Part 7 (2/2)
Hate. Him.
As he walks round the outside of the circle, I catch sight of a new tattoo on his right forearm and I wonder what it is. Without wanting to, I think of the times I lay on his bed, tracing the lines of the one that stretches across the whole of his back with my finger...
He's looking good. His T-s.h.i.+rt's tight to his body and his hair's shorter, cropped close to his skull. It suits him.
So not fair that my ex looks hotter and I look c.r.a.pper. I gave into the cliche and cut my hair off not, like, bald but short enough that I can't tie it back and I hate it. And I've lost too much weight. A fortnight of living off popcorn and custard creams should have made me fatter, right? It didn't. I'm a half-stone down that I can't seem to make up. My b.o.o.bs are flapping around inside my B-cups and the ribcage underneath is a lot more obvious than I'd like it to be. I don't need my mother constantly commenting on how healthy my friends look to know I need to get back into eating real food.
The way my throat's squidged shut at the sight of Stu is hardly likely to help matters.
What the f.u.c.king f.u.c.kbags is he doing here?
KAZ.
It's Tom who notices Ruby. He nudges me, but when I look up, the light's behind her and I can't make out her expression. I want to spring up and check she's OK, but Ruby's armour is powered by other people's perceptions. The last thing I want to do is expose a c.h.i.n.k.
There's a glance my way that's part question, part (justified) accusation, then she's walking straight through the middle of the camp to where Stu's friends are, which is a very Ruby thing to do. Tell her she can't do something and Ruby will rush right in: * jumping off Clifton's excuse for a pier because Callum said it was a stupid thing to do * staying out late when she'd been told to stay in * saying b.l.o.o.d.y Mary in the mirror because she read about it in a book * starting a pet.i.tion in Year 9 for our year to be included in the Flickers/Dukes mixer disco and persuading everyone across the two schools to sign it before she sent it to the local paper.
”This should be interesting,” Tom murmurs next to me.
”Something like that,” I whisper back, turning my head so that my lips are level with his ear. I'm distracted from all my Ruby-related worries by the freckle in the centre of his earlobe that I have a sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss.
”I'm pleased we're not like them.” Tom looks at me. ”That we're not angry with each other.”
”I could never be angry with you.” I try and keep my focus on his eyes, but I can't help glancing down at his lips. There are freckles there, too.
”We need to talk, Kaz, just me and you. There's something I-”
But Dongle's shouting and whatever Tom was about to say gets drowned out as others take up the chant. It takes a few seconds for their timings to sync and I'm able to decipher the words.
”Spin the bottle.”
RUBY.
Stu hasn't so much as glanced my way since I sat down between Goz and Travis, but the second Dongle starts chanting, he looks straight up at me and the look in his eyes is a gut-punch of l.u.s.t to the stomach. I grab the fresh bottle of beer that Goz has just opened for himself.
My need is greater than his.
KAZ.
As everyone shuffles into position, I force myself not to look at Tom, lest he see how much hope I've got pinned on this. Maybe a kiss will unlock the promise of all those shared looks, the whispers that are a little closer than necessary, the touches that don't need to be made.
Maybe this is my chance to win him back.
It's only once I look around the group that it occurs to me that the odds are not in my favour. I've as much chance of kissing Stu as I have of kissing Tom.
All of a sudden this has gone from looking like the best idea in the world to the worst.
”What happens if you don't want to kiss someone?” I hiss at Anna, who's moved next to me.
Anna rolls her eyes. ”I say that every single time Dongle tries to play this game.”
”Does it happen a lot?”
”Every time he's drunk and Parvati's within kissing distance.” I must look as incredulous as I feel. ”They went out for, like, half an hour about two years ago and he's been desperate to convince her what she's missing out on ever since. I don't know why we need to bother with the bottle charade. The pair of them'll s.h.a.g before the weekend's over anyway.”
”Really?”
”They usually do.” Anna sighs and sips her beer and looks at me closely. ”Who is it you're worried about kissing? Your ex?” She glances over my shoulder at Tom, who's helping clear up some of the rubbish from the middle of the circle.
”Someone else's,” I say, nodding at Stu.
”Who'd he go out with?” Anna asks before she sees where my gaze has s.h.i.+fted and the colour drains from her face. ”s.h.i.+t.”
RUBY.
”So here are the rules.” Dongle claps his hands and everyone falls into a silence mellowed by drugs and alcohol. ”You spin the bottle, you kiss the person it lands on. That person gets the next spin.”
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