Page 184 of Oleander

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe it is.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s all another big fucking lie to get you and Caspien together so he can die knowing he undid the worst mistake he ever made.” He stood, looking down at me with a measure of scorn I thought I might deserve. “How fucking awful of him. What a piece of shit he’d be for that.”

Jasper strode from the room without looking back, and I proceeded to get very, very drunk. I passed out with Caspien’sname on my lips and the distinct sound of his voice in my ear. I woke and drank some water from a glass by my bedside, before falling back to sleep.

I dreamt of him, willowy and dressed in black, smelling of sea salt and fresh moss.

I was in his bedroom, lying on his bed, as he sat down on the edge and smiled at me. It was a real smile; the London smile. I dreamt of the night we walked along the Thames as the sky turned from summer orange to indigo to deepest black.

You’re ridiculous, you do realise that?

I know,I’d said.

When I woke, dry-mouthed and disoriented, I didn’t know where I was. The bed felt different from my own. There were no iron bars to cool my feet against, and the mattress was softer than I remembered. I looked up at the ornate ceiling and recognised the rose cornicing.

Deveraux. I was in Deveraux. In Cas’s mother’s bedroom.

I sat up and looked around. No. Not his mother’s, his.

I was in his bedroom, in his bed. And I was completely naked.

What in the name of fuck had I done? A glance under the sheets gave me my answer. Mortification spread up from my chest, where my depravity had dried and flaked.

I groaned. I remembered nothing about my night, how much I’d drank – a lot, evidently – before coming into his room and …

Christ. I sat up.

“You’re awake, then,” a voice said from somewhere to the left.

I turned and saw to my utter shock, Cas sitting on the window seat, legs curled up and a book in his hands. I scrubbed my eyes, because I was imagining things, obviously, I was still asleep, obviously.

But still, he remained. He wore all black; turtle neck jumper, smart trousers, and polished smart shoes. A brown coat was draped over the chair next to him.

“Cas? Fuck. What...are you? Doing here?”

He stood up from the window and came toward me, sliding his hands into his pockets. He looked painfully gorgeous. Older, touches of it in and around his eyes, but beautiful still. That same delicate beauty I always associated with him. His face had lost a lot of the hardness it used to carry, now sad where it would once have been cruel. I tried not to think about why that was.

“You called me,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

Cas took another step toward me. “Last night. Yes, you did.”

No. Last night, I’d gone out, come back, gotten very drunk. More drunk than I’d been in years, and then, I...oh god.

I didn’t know what to do with this. I certainly couldn’t accept it while I sat here, naked, covered in... and in his bed.

“Could I...Would you mind just waiting here while I go...shower and put some clothes on?”

He nodded, the faintest trace of a smile on his mouth.

Very carefully, I climbed out of bed and pulled the top sheet off to wrap it around myself before walking to the door.

I stopped and turned back, to check he was really there, before I slipped out of his room and down the hall to his mother’s room. Grabbing fresh underwear and clothes, I went to the shower and cleaned myself quickly.

Cas was here. I’d called him. Something he wasn’t lying about because when I found my phone – sensibly plugged in by my bed – there was indeed an outgoing call to him at 11:36 p.m. I wanted to die from embarrassment. I hadn’t done it for years, drunk called him, but last night I had. What had I said?

I’d called him, then gone to his bed and had a wank in it? With Gideon and Jasper in the house? What the fuck was wrong with me?

The only upside as far as I could tell, was that I didn’t appear to have a hangover. The most minuscule of mercies.