Page 4

I was dying to talk to Megan about Shane, but Niall was in a total rage the whole way home.

‘Can I come back to yours?’ Megan whispered. ‘My mum’s out and Dad’s super grumpy at the minute; he’s so busy at work and Marissa’s not even here any more to share the tension.’

‘Sure. Want to practise?’ I offered. ‘Take your mind off everything?’

She laughed. ‘Absolutely not.’

Niall was sitting in the back seat in silence, but as we turned the corner into our street, he started an epic rant. ‘He can’t just fucking swan in here and take my position. What the hell was Harrison thinking? He’s not even that good for fuck’s sake.’

‘You’re right,’ agreed Megan and I fired her a look. I’d only seen him play for five minutes and I knew that wasn’t true.

‘And did you see the end of that match, when he didn’t even pass to Ben? Ball-greedy bastard.’

I could feel his angry black cloud closing in on me.

I was so relieved when we pulled into the driveway.

There were loads of cars outside the house.

Audis mostly, a Range Rover, a Lexus. Mum’s ‘book club’.

I wasn’t convinced they read the books at all; I think they just used it as an excuse to drink wine and gossip, then they’d leave their cars here because they’d all be pissed and doing karaoke by the end of the night.

Niall stormed straight up the stairs, while me and Megan loitered downstairs.

I took off my trainers and hung up my bag on autopilot.

Megan did the same. And she could have been talking to me, but I didn’t hear her.

I was thinking about Shane, about his maybe-black hair and maybe-blue eyes.

The easy smile and the way he controlled that ball. My God.

Mum came into the kitchen and leaned on the island. I could already tell she was drunk. ‘Hi, ladies. Would you like some champagne?’

‘Mum!’ I said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Dad hated underage drinking. His friend was killed in a car crash as a teenager, and he was always really strict about me and Niall not drinking until we were eighteen.

‘A little bit won’t do any harm,’ she slurred. ‘There’s loads left over. Help yourselves.’ She made her way back into what she calls the ‘good room’ and I watched Megan pour herself a glass.

‘You’re not joining me?’ She took a sip and scrunched up her face.

‘No thanks,’ I said.

‘Sure you don’t fancy a run? Just a wee one?’ I asked.

I needed it. The way I always did when I had to get rid of a feeling. The disappointment of not hearing my name in Sadie’s line-up and Niall’s position under attack.

‘I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less,’ she said, sipping more champagne. ‘But why don’t you go? I’ll wait for you in here, drinking your mum’s expensive alcohol. I can even watch you from the window.’ She smiled and held up her glass.

‘I won’t be long, I promise.’

I pulled on my trainers again, walked outside into the freezing cold and started running laps.

And it was then, when I was alone, that all the disappointment came back, like a brick in the face.

So I ran harder, pushing myself as much as humanly possible, so all I could feel was pain and I didn’t have to think about the list of names that didn’t have me on it.

Then I started hitting balls into the net, getting as much power behind them as I could. But two out of three were going wide.

Fuck it. It was the football. It was flat. Niall kept the good ones in his room, the ones that cost like ￡100 each. I needed one of those.

I ran across the pitch, sprinting, legs already aching. But I liked the burn, the way the muscles screamed at me to stop and I wouldn’t let them.

I burst into the kitchen where Mum was pouring herself another glass of champagne. No Megan.

‘Still practising, Lexie? Maybe you should stop now; it’s getting late.’ She swayed out of the kitchen before waiting for an answer. ‘There’s such a thing as too much practice, you know.’

Mum didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t.

The only sport she played when she was at school was tennis, and she’d told me she only played it because Grandad was chairperson of the tennis club, so she got on the team without a trial, and she liked the outfits.

It wasn’t even that late anyway, not even half nine, but she probably didn’t have a clue because she was drunk.

She didn’t get the effort you had to put in to be the best. Or even just to get on the team.

I ran up the stairs and walked towards Niall’s room. Music was blaring as usual. I called his name, but he didn’t answer.

Then I opened the door.

And I wanted to claw my eyes out with a fork.

Megan screamed, her eyes so wide that it looked like they might pop from their sockets. Even after the scream ended, her mouth was still open. She moved it, like she was trying to say something, but no words were coming out.

I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.

‘Lexie,’ Megan finally said.

Then Niall appeared from under the blanket.

‘Lexie, what the fuck?’

I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move? Why was I standing there, staring at my half-naked best friend who had a matching horrified look.

‘Why are you still here? Get out!’ Niall shouted.

And whatever way he moved the blanket, I saw his actual naked arse. I wanted to throw up.

When my brain and legs finally reconnected, I legged it out of his room. I slammed the door, ran into my room, threw myself under my own blanket and tried desperately to erase what I’d just seen from my mind. Megan’s face. Niall’s arse. Jesus Christ.

I’d never understood the need for every bedroom in our house to have an en-suite.

But right then I couldn’t have been more grateful.

I had another shower, desperately trying to wash away the thoughts of the two of them.

And once the nausea had disappeared with the Sol de Janeiro suds, all that was left was rage.

Megan and Niall? What the actual fuck?

My best friend and my brother! Not only my brother.

My twin ! That word used to mean something.

It used to mean that we told each other everything and we had each other’s backs.

It meant a pact: that if one of us was in trouble, the other one would do whatever they could to fix it.

It was him doing one-on-ones with me whenever I asked, and it was me doing his homework for him because he got the looks, and I got the better brains. Did that not mean anything now?

I ran downstairs and straight outside, ignoring Mum’s slurs asking where I was going.

I was going to the beach. The beach that was connected to our back garden with a metal gate.

I pushed it open and ran on to the sand, taking huge gulps of salty frozen air.

I sat on a rock and screamed into the night, trying to expel the feelings that I couldn’t get my head round.

I’d felt bad for him, how Shane was taking his position, and guilty since I’d asked Shane to come to Zoe’s party. How stupid. And Megan? How could she?

I stood up and kicked the sand. Hard. Then I just stared out at the raging sea for what must have been at least forty minutes with tears streaming down my face.

I was freezing by the time I went back inside. Mum was talking to Niall in the kitchen.

‘Lexie!’ she said overdramatically and walked towards me, her arms outstretched. ‘I was so worried.’

‘I was just at the beach,’ I said, trying to hide the fact I’d been crying.

‘I told her that’s where you’d be,’ said Niall.

His voice made my chest tighten. I pulled myself from Mum’s hug and made my way past Niall, knocking into him with my shoulder as I walked through the door.

I went upstairs and got into bed, hair still wet, and opened YouTube. I watched the football highlights, Man United vs Arsenal. I don’t know why I did it to myself, I knew the score. Highlights usually calmed me down, but this was just depressing. I should have put on Barcelona. Bonmatí. Poetry.

There was a knock at the door.

‘What?’

‘Can I come in?’ Megan’s voice.

‘No.’ I didn’t want to see her. Ever again.

‘Please?’ She pushed the door open gently.

Megan was wearing Niall’s Metallica T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She hovered in the doorway, trying not to make too much eye contact. ‘We wanted to tell you,’ she said quietly.

We. We was me and Megan. Or me and Niall. We wasn’t them.

‘But?’ I spat.

‘But we didn’t know how you’d react …’

I slammed the lid of my laptop down. ‘So you just decided to not tell me?’ I didn’t let her answer.

‘What’s the deal then? How long have you been …

doing that ?’ My face twisted without me even telling it to.

I cringed when I thought about all the times the three of us had been hanging out.

Had they been dying for me to leave? I avoided eye contact.

Megan was still in the doorway like she was scared to come in properly. ‘Just a few months,’ she said; it was almost a whisper.

‘ Months? ’ I felt sick.

‘Lex. We wanted to tell you. I’m sorry.’

Rage throbbed in my gut and I glanced up at Megan, whose eyes glittered with tears. And I almost softened, like I usually did when she cried. But I forced myself to stop. What they’d done? Unforgivable.

‘Please just get out,’ I said through gritted teeth.

And she looked like she was going to say something, then decided not to, before turning and closing the door gently behind her.

For the next hour I stared at my phone in a strange kind of daze, waiting for a message from Niall telling me it was all a joke that I’d fallen for.

But no message came.