Page 19

We’d fallen asleep, twisted in each other, breathing in sync. And those minutes before I drifted off, I was drowning in happiness.

When I woke up Shane was still asleep, sheet over him, winter sun pouring through the window on to his perfect face. I got up to close the curtains and he stirred. Gently at first, then his eyes sprang open, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

‘Fuck.’ He threw himself out of bed.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I need to get home. I shouldn’t have stayed over. I didn’t mean to stay.’ It was like he was talking to himself. He shook his head and pulled on his clothes frantically, the ones that were still covered in sand from yesterday.

‘Can I drive you?’

He was putting on his socks, hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yeah, please. I really need to get home.’

‘Is everything OK?’

‘Yeah, it’s just complicated,’ he said. Again he didn’t elaborate on whatever it was he wasn’t telling me. And because I didn’t want to ruin last night even more, I didn’t push it.

‘OK,’ I said. I got dressed too, pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie before tying my hair into a high ponytail.

He barely said anything. And neither did I.

I’d had visions of us sipping tea together in the morning before going for a walk on the beach. Instead, I drove out of Westing and towards Ferndale, all the way through and out the other side.

‘Just down here.’ Shane directed me to a run-down estate. I cringed when I thought about the size of my house and then kicked myself when I realized that he’d probably seen my face contort in embarrassment.

We twisted and turned down a million different roads, then he asked me to stop outside a mid-terrace. And just as he was about to get out of the car, he looked at his phone that had just buzzed and lit up. I didn’t even have to move to see it. There was that name again, loud and clear. Grace .

‘This is me. Thanks for the lift, Lexie.’ Shane sounded formal.

Like I was his coach giving him a lift home after practice.

And as amazing and beautiful as he’d made me feel last night, this was the opposite.

I felt empty. Worthless. I waited for him to turn and kiss me goodbye.

But he didn’t. He just got out of the car and disappeared into the house, leaving me in the driver’s seat, hating myself, wondering what I’d done wrong and desperately needing to know who Grace was.

Why couldn’t he just tell me? I couldn’t ask; he’d think I was crazy.

So I sat there staring at his house, hoping it would magically give me some answers.

But there was nothing. Just weeds up the driveway and a fence that could do with a few coats of paint.

I couldn’t get my head around it. We’d been so open with each other.

He’d talked about his parents, his dad’s depression, and they were clearly a really supportive family if his aunt had come to watch his game.

It just made no sense. Maybe he’d thought about my reaction to Megan’s news and decided he couldn’t deal with it.

Not my finest moment, but I found it so hard to keep my feelings hidden when something like that happened.

But he was so kind, and he’d made me feel so much better.

I spent the rest of the drive going through our conversations and thinking about what I’d said, desperately trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong.

But I couldn’t think of anything except the name ‘Grace’.

So when I got back home, I tidied up to distract myself from the thoughts that twisted in my head.

When I’d finished, I still felt horrible. So I did the only thing that had worked to keep myself out of my head for the last few years. I trained.

Out the back, I ran laps until I was drenched in sweat, I kicked ball after ball at the net, as hard as I could, getting out all the frustration, about Megan, about Niall, and about Shane.

Why couldn’t anything be simple? Why do people have to hide things and have secrets?

Even then I realized I was being a hypocrite.

Before, if I phoned Megan and told her everything, she’d be straight over to see me.

She’d probably have some decent advice too.

But now? She was barely speaking to me. And even though I missed her, I’d committed to being pissed off about them being together.

Then I remembered about the NI trials and my mind was made up again.

So I just kept running and dribbling and shooting until my legs turned into jelly and I felt like I wanted to throw up.

I went down to the beach and looked out at the sea, at the exact spot we’d stood the night before. I shivered, remembering how cold it had been, remembering how happy I’d been. So fucking happy.

I checked my phone. Nothing.

I wished we had a game today, that would have taken up a few hours.

Instead, I had a shower and got back into my pyjamas, deciding to torture myself by watching love stories on Netflix all day.

The kind Megan loved. I cried at the happy endings and pretended to relate when their boyfriends treated them horribly.

But Shane hadn’t been horrible, and he hadn’t actually done anything wrong; it was just the contrast of a night that had been so beautiful, ending like a plaster being ripped off.

ME : Are you OK?

SHANE : Yeah, thanks. Sorry about earlier. Just had to get home

ME : Do you want to come back over?

SHANE : Sorry, I can’t, but I’ll see you at training tomorrow? 5 a.m.?

ME : Wouldn’t miss it

ME : Did I do something?

SHANE : No! It was nothing you did at all. Please don’t think that. It’s just family stuff

ME : Oh, OK. What’s going on? Can I help?

SHANE : Don’t worry, it’s fine. But thanks

No explanation . I hated that the thought flashed in my head of him and Zoe, like they were having some secret relationship and that was the reason.

But it didn’t make sense. He’d said no to going to V-Ball with her.

Then my head filled with the made-up image of some girl called Grace.

But those thoughts hurt too much, so I let my head float back to Megan and the NI trials, the nausea in the pit of my stomach turning to anger again.

Niall used to understand. A few years ago, we’d come home from school and talk about everyone in the year, trading gossip and pissing ourselves laughing about the stupid stuff that the teachers said. I told Niall everything and I thought it was the same for him, but clearly not.

My sadness took me to Dad’s study. I pulled open the bottom filing cabinet and took out a box. There it was, the memory stick. This is where the old me and Niall lived now, on this tiny piece of plastic and metal, hidden away in a box.

I brought it down to the massive television in the living room and plugged it in before going to get some popcorn from the kitchen. I came back to see the screen burst to life. I hovered over ‘play’, knowing I wasn’t in the right mental state to watch. But I did it anyway.

Winter five years ago, skiing in Banff. We were twelve.

Dad was holding the video camera and he zoomed in on me and Niall at the top of a slope.

He was showing me something. Then I remembered.

I was scared to go down that slope, even though we’d been skiing every year since we were five.

I’d fallen the year before and hit my head, so I was terrified in case it happened again.

Niall stood with me at the top for ages, not rushing me, waiting until I was ready, giving me instructions and telling me he’d ski behind me the whole time in case I fell, even though he was miles better, and faster than I was.

I watched myself come down the hill, Niall, like he said, right behind me.

Dad cheered when I got to the bottom, but it was Niall I was watching. He came right over to me, threw an arm round my shoulders and said, ‘See, said you could do it!’

And I remembered how much love I had for him then. For my family.

I watched videos all night. Holidays in France, Costa Rica and that one in Mexico where the video switched off two days in because we all got sick. I stayed up late deliberately. I wanted to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I couldn’t bear any more of my own thoughts.

It worked. I woke up to my alarm screaming at me and the sound of the waves crashing outside. When I got to the club, Shane wasn’t there yet, so I went down on to the pitch to warm up, doing laps with the freezing air burning my chest.

Ten minutes later, it was like I sensed him. I looked across the pitch to see him jogging towards me. Grey hoodie this time.

‘I’m sorry about yesterday, and I’m sorry I’m late,’ he said, and he looked right at me when he said it. It sounded so genuine.

‘Is everything OK?’ I asked. ‘At home?’

‘Oh yeah, everything’s fine; my mum and dad just like knowing where I am.’ He smiled and then rolled his eyes, but something about the way he said it made me think he wasn’t telling the truth. ‘Will we start?’ He flicked a football on to his foot.

‘Yeah,’ I said, knowing I wasn’t going to get any more of an explanation.

‘Hey,’ he said, and I looked up at him.

He came close to me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me gently. ‘It’s just my weird family, OK?’

I smiled, the doubt in my chest fading. For now. ‘OK.’

He took my chin and kissed me briefly on the lips, then turned and walked towards the net where there were two footballs. Even from behind he looked amazing. Square shoulders taking me back to the other night when I had my hands on them, holding on tightly as he kissed my neck.

I yawned. ‘Maybe at the weekend we don’t need to be here at five a.m.’ I laughed. ‘What d’ya reckon?’ Recently I was finding it harder to get up in the mornings with all this extra training.

He hesitated for a second before he picked up the football.

‘I kind of like it this early. Before the world wakes up, you know?’ He turned and looked at my confused face.

‘And sometimes I help out my dad really early … with work, so it’s kind of perfect.

But we’re running out of time.’ He threw the ball in the air and caught it.

At the end of our practice, we were both sweating and dehydrated.

‘I forgot to bring a drink – you think the clubhouse is open?’ He wiped sweat from under his hair.

‘Shit, me too.’ I’d been in such a rush to get out the door to see him I’d completely forgotten. ‘But I know where there’s a key,’ I said. ‘Come on.’

I grabbed his hand, and we jogged over. I lifted the plant pot and there it was, where I’d seen Sadie sliding it once, a little silver key.

I opened the door, and we were hit with a musty smell as creaks echoed through the building.

I followed him down the corridor to the water fountain and watched him drink, remembering the lips that were on mine, and feeling heat in my face as I imagined other things.

‘You want some?’ he asked, wiping a hand across his mouth.

‘Yeah.’ I flicked my hair out of the way and tried to look attractive as I bent over and sucked water from the fountain.

When I finished, I looked at him. ‘How much time have we got?’

He looked at his phone. ‘Twenty minutes before the bus.’

I wasn’t wasting any time. I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the girls’ changing room, leading him to a bench where I sat on top of him, legs either side, and we got lost in each other, tongues pressed together, my hands on his cold face pulling him harder into me, his hands everywhere.

We were completely and utterly consumed by each other, so preoccupied, that we didn’t hear the clubhouse door creak open. But we did hear the footsteps that squeaked across the lino in the corridor.

And when the door into the changing room was pushed open, I was there, on the floor, after losing my balance trying to detangle myself from Shane, while he was round the corner in the shower block.