Part 77 (1/2)
Will perches on the edge of the tatty armchair opposite me. ”Your 'no'?” His eyes widen. ”Oh! Is he hara.s.sing you? Do you need me to talk to him?”
Talk to him. Judging by Will's grip on the edge of the chair arm, I don't think talk is on his agenda.
”I'm dealing with this. I just need you to know that n.o.body had a great night with me while you were away. I spent the whole time wis.h.i.+ng you were here. Why jump to this conclusion?”
Will sinks back and the tension drops. ”Because I'm not here enough.”
”I know, and that's okay with me. It's part of who you are.”
”I'm not studying. I'm gonna fail my degree. You want a smart guy, not a slacker. Until recently, you were looking for somebody like you.”
”Slacker? Jesus, Will. You're a successful musician.” I reach out and take his hand. ”And you are someone like me; otherwise, why would we feel how we do? You're worth ten of the guys I've known in the past. Didn't you listen to me the other day?”
”Yeah, but... I don't know.”
”You know what's funny? I thought I'd be the insecure one, worried about the girls l.u.s.ting after you and if you'd keep your self-control.”
”You don't need to worry about that, Fleur.” He bites his lip. ”I dunno. I guess after years of being told my choices were stupid and I'd regret trying to make the band work, I sometimes feel I don't measure up to the smart guys. The ambitious ones.”
His words stun me. This talented man telling me he feels inferior? ”You're both of those things. So what if you're not academic? You're smart and funny and successful.”
”But this could all disappear, and I could end up working at McDonalds or some s.h.i.+t like that.”
”Surely, you don't really think that! Look at what's happening to you. Have faith in yourself, Will.”
He scrunches his face up. ”When we started, this was a bit of fun. No stress. Just playing. Doing our own thing. Now we have a manager and publicist, and f.u.c.k knows who else making decisions. I don't want to lose what's normal.”
”You won't.”
”Yeah? Have you seen the c.r.a.p thrown at famous people? Do you want to be part of that? With me? Or do you wanna have a quiet life with an intellectual guy who's there when you need him?”
”The only person I want a life with is somebody who loves and respects me. And as long as you do, you're that person.” He stares at his bare feet. ”Where's this coming from, Will?”
”I'm b.l.o.o.d.y scared of getting hurt.”
”Being in love is always a risk, up to you whether you want to or not.”
”I guess.”
”Do you know what else you are that sets you above every other guy I've met? You're genuine.”
Will's mouth tips at the corner. ”Genuinely odd.”
”Genuinely Will.” I pause. ”Apart from when you're Nate.”
”We're over that, aren't we?” he asks.
”You know we are.” I go to Will and sit on his lap, wrapping my arms around him. ”Will Campbell, you're genuine and a bit of an idiot sometimes, but I love you.”
”You're awesome.”
”So you keep saying.”
Will wraps me in his arms and holds me tightly against him, squeezing the breath from my lungs. ”I love you. Be my normal.”
”Be my crazy. ” I pull his head so he has to look at me. ”We can meet in the middle.”
”Our crazy normal place we go when we're alone?”
”That's the one.”
The words are sealed not with a gentle kiss but a breath-consuming, intense pa.s.sion spilling into my body. The relief we sorted this out quickly pulls away the dark worry of the last few days.
Shaun nags the corner of my mind. I've told Will, but downplayed how serious this is becoming. I have no doubt Shaun sent the flowers. Did he see us together again? Decide he can ruin this? I have no proof, but I'm scared over what could happen next. Surely, Shaun won't ruin his career by continuing this behaviour.
If I say anything to Will, or anybody, I'll inflame the situation.
All I need to do is keep my head down and finish this year. If Shaun does anything else and I can prove it's him, I'll step up and deal with the issue then.
36.
ONE MONTH LATER.
FLEUR.
I check the online bulletin board again. My results for the last a.s.signment aren't posted. Still. Steph and Sam got their grades two days ago. I need to talk to somebody and find out why; I'll chat to the faculty office later. Gulping down the rest of my coffee, I look around for my coat.
Will's away again; he's only around three days out of seven currently and has all but given up on his course. He's back to last year's study habits: none. Will's admitted his decision to come back was to prove a point to his parents; and occasionally, he mentions he should finish his degree. I point out to him that, even with the best tutor in the world this isn't going to happen, and that a bestselling alb.u.m is enough achievement for one year.
”Letter for you,” says Anne as I walk past the lounge. She points at the table.
”Thanks.” I grab the envelope. University logo. More fees probably. Shoving it in my pocket, I head out to catch the bus.
English winters suck. Rain and grey skies, or ice-cold winds. Late November and a five minute walk to the bus stop involves a scarf and gloves. On the bus, I squeeze onto a seat next to an elderly lady and open the letter.
I have to re-read three times to be sure the words are what they say, and double-check this is definitely addressed to me.
Plagiarism.
Disciplinary hearing.
Possible expulsion.