Page 10

10. Charlie :

(Because of course I had to go and open my big mouth)

Charlie:

I’ll be done at training by 7pm. Meet you in the library at 8?

Violet:

Stella and I rehearsed earlier, I have an essay I have to write instead. So, you’re off the hook tonight. You can do your own work instead of mine

‘Who are you texting?’

I ignored the question and dropped down on the bench by my locker. My fingers hovered over the letters on my screen, trying to figure out how to reply and whether telling her I’d still meet her in the library was a good idea. I rarely went to the library, I usually preferred to work alone.

But … I wanted to be working with Violet.

I didn’t want to be off the hook, I’d prefer to be very much on it. Especially as I was becoming somewhat of a Shakespeare expert. Sort of.

As much as a couple of weeks of reading would allow, anyway. I mean, reading Shakespeare was what you’d find Oz doing outside of training.

But since that day we’d walked to the library, or rather the first day I’d rehearsed with her, I’d spent every evening reading up. I’d also memorized every line in Twelfth Night , because after the first time of watching Violet recite her lines, I realized if I knew my lines I wouldn’t have to keep looking at the page.

I could simply look at her, and once I did it was almost impossible to look away.

I was beginning to wonder if Violet could capture my attention away from even the most complex equations.

There was a uniqueness about her I’d never noticed before. Never had the opportunity to notice before because, I realized, there had always been something in the way. Whether that was Brooks refusing to let her join in with anything we did, because he said, ‘her enthusiasm is far too annoying’ .

Or, worse, Evie.

Every time I saw Violet she seemed that little bit different; a priceless oil painting created from a palette of a thousand shades – the longer you stared, the more your eyes picked up. Something like that anyway. This is why I stuck to formulas, Shakespeare would be able to come up with a much better analogy. But my point is that I was starting to see Violet in a way I never had before, and I wanted to find out what else I’d been missing.

I wanted to know what she’d be like as a study partner, what she looked like when she was concentrating. Whether, for once, she was silent. If she wrote out revision cards, or used memory tests like Brooks which he forced us to help him with as part of his history degree, and at this point I knew more about Japanese Imperialism than I’d ever expected to.

I wondered how quickly she typed, or if she went old-school and wrote out long-hand first, scribbling across a lined pad. I could imagine her doing that, there was something of a traditionalist about her. Though she’d call it something else – romantic, probably … ‘Charlie, Shakespeare wrote long-hand. There’s something to be said for the romance of penmanship.’

I’d never cared about a girl’s handwriting before, but I pictured Violet’s from our list of rules. Her brother’s needed to come with an Enigma code – that’s how indecipherable it was – but Violet’s was clear and neat, with rounded vowels and loopy lettering.

‘Charlie?’

I was still smiling to myself as my head flicked up and I found Oz staring at me. ‘Yeah?’

‘Who are you texting?’ he repeated.

I shut the phone off and slipped it into my pocket. The sole problem with Violet that I’d figured out was her ability to be entirely distracting even when she wasn’t there. My brain seemed to be on hiatus.

‘Um … no one.’

‘That expression on your face says otherwise.’

I schooled my features to be as passive as possible. ‘I don’t have an expression.’

Oz’s eyes narrowed, and he added a head tilt that said he wasn’t sure if he was buying my flavour of bullshit today. ‘Are you being weird?’

That was debatable.

I pulled off my hoodie and threw it into the back of the locker. ‘Nope.’

‘Then tell me who you were texting. You’re being secretive.’

‘I’m not. I wasn’t texting anyone,’ I replied, immediately regretting it. I should have told him I was replying to Gordon. Why didn’t I tell him that?

Oh, right, because my mind only had room for Violet.

Oz dropped down onto the bench next to me. I could tell he was on the verge of asking something else I didn’t want to answer, but thankfully the door to the locker room flung open and in walked Marshy, our coxswain. Actually, it was more of a stomp, his heavy feet thudding with each step as he failed to acknowledge either of us sitting there watching him pass by, and he pushed through the set of doors leading into the gym with such force they clattered back against the wall.

I clearly wasn’t the only one with something on my mind. Though thankfully it provided me with the decent excuse to change the subject I’d desperately been hoping for.

‘What’s up with Marshy?’

Oz shook his head, ‘I dunno. He’s been in a bad mood for a while now.’

‘Huh,’ I muttered, switching out my trackpants for running shorts.

It might be freezing cold outside, but it was about to get very sweaty in the gym. My muscles were still feeling the burn from water training this morning, and I still hadn’t had nearly enough sleep for my liking.

The doors were still swinging when in walked Bitters, Joshi, Drake and Frank, followed by several of the junior crew all looking far too cheery. The smiles would soon be wiped off their faces once our training session began.

There was no time for smiling.

It would take all our concentration to keep our breathing steady and in sync through each tug on the rowing machines. We might not be out on the water, but we would still be pushing our bodies through the motions of being in the shell. Pushing them to their limits.

Twice a day, seven days a week until the Boat Race was over, and we’d be victorious again.

If I wasn’t such an overachiever, I’d wonder how I found time to think about Violet.

‘Where’s Brooks?’ asked Joshi, sitting down to switch out his trainers.

‘On the way, his lecture ran over,’ replied Oz just as the doors opened again and in ran the man himself, his face red from a combination of the cold and the exertion he’d clearly used to get here.

‘Thank fuck,’ he puffed, slumping against the wall, ‘I’m not late.’

We could all feel his sigh of relief. Late was not something you ever wanted to be.

Late meant you had to complete an extra five minutes of flat-out sprints, and after an already intense and fully loaded training session, you didn’t want to do anything you didn’t have to. Late came with zero excuses – no matter whether lectures ran over or you were hit by a bus – you did those sprints.

‘No, mate,’ Oz slapped him on the shoulder as Brooks fell onto the bench next to him, ‘I don’t even think you’re the last here. I’ve not seen Fellows yet.’

I looked around; a couple of the guys were already in the gym, everyone else was just finishing up getting dressed, or undressed. Drake was fiddling with the heart monitor he’d strapped around his chest, Bitters was chugging a protein shake and Frank was searching through Spotify to find the playlist he’d made for all of us – he swore it was the perfect mix of tracks to get us through an hour of hard work.

I grabbed my own heart monitor, along with my headphones, and shoved the rest of my stuff into my bag before throwing it into the locker.

‘Let’s go, boys.’

We all headed in, Oz holding the door open for as long as he could be bothered.

Rows and rows of rowing machines lined the middle of the room. We’d had new ones installed at the beginning of this year, ergonomically designed which made them better for our bodies and promised to feel like the closest thing to rowing on water.

I had to admit, they were pretty good.

Out of habit the first thing anyone did on entering the gym was to check the board for the Workout of the Day. I couldn’t see it through the wall of crewmates, but several groans told me that it wasn’t good.

‘Round Robin,’ someone grumbled, though not loud enough for our coach to hear from the back of the room where he was in a huddle with the other coaches.

My own groan dragged through my chest. If there was anything I wanted to do less it was a session of Round Robin sprinting – a relentless pursuit chasing your teammates on an imaginary river, which we could all see projected onto the wall at the front. Every thirty seconds five of us were picked at random and had to double our speed to overtake the rest of the crew, while also trying to take the overall lead.

‘No one puke this time,’ added someone else, who sounded a lot like Bitters. ‘Frank, that includes you.’

‘I didn’t puke,’ Frank muttered, ‘I nearly died though.’

Oz clapped his hands together, summoning attention, though not enough for everyone to stop grumbling about the torture we were being subjected to. ‘Okay boys, let’s go in ascending order of birthdays for who goes first. We started with December last time, we’ll go with June today.’

There was silence for a couple of seconds before one of the juniors shouted, ‘June 30th.’

‘June 10th,’ added Fellows, as he walked in and slunk to the side trying to hide the fact he was late.

Brooks turned to Fellows, ‘Your birthday’s June 10th?’

‘Yeah, why?’

He shrugged. ‘No reason, just didn’t know that’s all. It’s the same day as my sister’s.’

My head shot up just as Bitters asked, ‘You have a sister?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why have we never seen her?’

Brooks shrugged again as he clipped into his rower. ‘She’s just started in first year.’

‘Has she got a boyfriend?’

From the look on Brooks’ face, it was obvious he wished he’d never brought up the subject of Violet. I was kind of wishing the same thing. Especially when he looked at me and replied, ‘Not a real one.’

Fuck.

And then it came out of nowhere. The thought of Violet with someone else pulsed under my skin as unwelcome as sewage, powered by a churning in my stomach.

‘She hasn’t got a boyfriend,’ I snapped, before I could stop myself and ten sets of eyes shot to me. Some filled with amusement, some confused, and one set outright annoyed.

Yeah, I definitely wished Brooks had never mentioned Violet.

‘Wait, you know her?’

I rolled my eyes and looked up at Bitters. I knew I’d never get away with not telling them. It was a miracle I’d made it a few weeks without it being brought up.

‘Yeah, Violet. You met her … remember?’

His brows dropped deeply a split second before his entire face widened with … surprise? Shock? I dunno.

‘That insanely hot chick was Brooks’ sister?’

I tried to keep my face as passive as possible, and nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘What the fuck? You’re dating Brooks’ sister? She’s so hot.’

Brooks got there before I did.

‘Stop fucking calling my sister hot. And they’re only fake dating.’

This time it wasn’t just Bitters who looked confused. Everyone did, and I couldn’t blame them.

‘Violet is helping me with a problem I’m having with my ex-girlfriend. And she’s helping me by pretending to be my current girlfriend.’

‘Wait …’ said Bitters, his tone, not to mention the broad grin spreading across his face, reminding me exactly why we called him the shit-stirrer of the group. ‘Charlie, are you telling me that the girl on your lap in the pub was just for show? You guys aren’t really banging?’

‘No, they’re absolutely fucking not,’ snapped Brooks before I could reply, and I was certain his glare was still laser-trained on me. It was likely if I looked down, I’d see a red dot dead centre in my chest.

‘No,’ I reiterated.

‘Sure about that? You guys looked pretty cosy.’

I swear I heard Brooks growl.

‘I’m sure. It’s not real, she’s helping me out. We have rules,’ I forced out.

‘Great. So I can ask her out then?’

‘Don’t be a dick,’ I snapped. ‘You’re not asking her out. To the outside world, she’s my girlfriend.’

There, that should buy some time and save me from this conversation I didn’t mean to enter or want to be in. But unfortunately it wasn’t enough to deter Bitters.

‘So I can ask her out when you’re done with this thing you need her for?’

‘No!’ Brooks and I snapped in unison.

‘No,’ he reiterated. ‘No one is asking out my sister.’

‘Charming,’ grumbled Bitters, still through a grin he was sporting. ‘I’ll have you know I’d make a great real boyfriend.’

Brooks rolled his eyes and dropped down into the seat of his rower, hopefully ending the conversation. Please let it be the end of the conversation. It should have been, there was really nothing else to say on the subject, but the deep breath I’d been holding onto stuck in my throat when he added, ‘No one is dating my sister for real.’

My chest squeezed tighter. I could already predict the next question given the look on Bitters’ face. Predict it, but unfortunately not stop it.

‘Even Charlie?’

I didn’t glance at Brooks. I was too busy trying to act as nonchalant as possible while ignoring the spiral of jealousy I was spinning down into at the thought of Violet in any kind of anything with another guy – especially Bitters. I clipped into the rower and adjusted my headphones, but the tilt of Brooks’ chin told me he was once more looking straight at me. ‘Even Charlie.’

Fuck fuck FUCK . Why did I have to open my mouth? Why did I have to bring Violet into it?

I tugged hard on the rowing strap, shooting back in my seat to fire up my muscles while simultaneously trying my best not to think about the way my stomach had curled in on itself.

I knew Evie had messed me up enough that I’d spent the best part of the past few years avoiding girls. Maybe that was the problem. That I’d avoided girls for so long, it had never occurred to me that I might like Violet.

Or maybe I liked Violet because I’d been avoiding girls for so long.

No, that wasn’t it. I liked Violet because she was incredible.

I liked Violet because she made me laugh.

And I liked Violet because somehow, whenever I was with her, she made me forget about absolutely everything except being in that moment.

Everyone flinched as a whistle pierced the air.

‘Are we here to talk about girls or to win the Boat Race?’ called Coach.

‘Boat Race,’ came back the unanimous response.

‘Good, and Fellows, don’t think I didn’t notice you were late.’

A loud groan sounded out followed by a chorus of whoops and cheers. I joined in, but only in body, my mind was miles away. Back with Violet.

For a genius it might have taken me longer than it should have to figure out I like liked her. I just hoped it didn’t take me quite so long to figure out what to do about it.