Page 11

11. Violet :

(When the day takes an unexpected turn)

‘Class, I’m expecting your papers in by next Thursday. If you have any questions, please remember my office hours are not twenty-four/seven. As much as I love teaching you, I also love having a life outside these four walls.’

There was a chorus of groans though I couldn’t tell whether it was to do with the paper we had to hand in or the lack of help we’d have with it because Professor Simpson’s office hours were only between eleven a.m. and two p.m. Otherwise known as lunchtime.

Right on cue my stomach rumbled, its Pavlovian response to any class ending. Stella was stuck in French all day, which meant I’d be grabbing a sandwich on the way to the library for a couple of hours before my next class. And given Professor Simpson’s classes always tended to run over, I was thankful I could take a more leisurely approach compared to most of my classmates now sprinting to their next lectures.

Shoving everything into my backpack, I heaved it up and just about managed not to topple over as I looped my arms through it. I could probably try out for the army considering the weight of it and pass with flying colours.

‘There needs to be a one-way system here,’ I grumbled to no one, rubbing my shoulder after being knocked hard by someone rushing too quickly to notice me as I pulled my big woolly hat down over my ears and walked outside.

I was not suited for the cold. And January seemed to be getting colder and colder.

‘Violet … Violet … wait up.’

By the time I’d turned around at the familiar voice, my face was already sporting a wide smile, coupled with a little confusion, because there’s no way I’d have forgotten any plans I had with Charlie. But there he was, running towards me.

Even after all the time we’d spent together recently, my heart still hadn’t got the message and predictably it stuttered against my ribcage for a couple of seconds, like I’d somehow trapped a butterfly in my chest. If my focus hadn’t been so intently trained on him, I’d have noticed the group of girls walking by, all of them nudging each other and turning around as he jogged past.

He stopped a metre away from me; the green of his eyes seemed more emerald today, even under the peak of his navy baseball cap I could see them glinting.

‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ I asked, ignoring the kick in my pulse. ‘Did I forget that you were meeting me?’

Even as I said it out loud, I knew it seemed unlikely.

‘I was passing by and remembered you had a class today.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, and watched as his smile turned into almost a wince. A grimace even.

‘Actually …’ he scratched through his thick stubble, and his perfect white teeth caught his bottom lip, ‘that’s a lie. I wanted to see you.’

My brows knitted together, and it took me a moment to figure out what he’d said, but as it sounded exactly like he’d come to meet me, specifically, all I could manage once more was, ‘Oh.’

Jesus. All my words seemed to have fallen out of my head this morning.

‘Shit. I’m fucking this up.’

I watched him. A version of Charlie I’d never seen before; kind of nervous, kind of bumbling and very awkward. All of which bolstered me, and I found myself laughing. ‘Charlie, are you okay?’

‘Yes. Yes, I’m good.’ For a second he kicked the ground, shuffling the gravel under his feet. But then he looked up, and his grin, the self-assured Charlie grin I knew so well, spread across his face, and my chest, once more, was on the verge of giving out. ‘I came on purpose. I wanted to see you. Is that weird?’ His grin widened, while I just stood there trying to figure out what was going on and what alternate universe it was I seemed to be in. ‘Yup, I’m making it weird.’

‘Weird that you wanted to see me?’

He nodded deeply. Earnestly. ‘Yeah. I just … we haven’t seen each other for a few days, as you’ve been rehearsing with Stella. I know we’ve been texting, but it’s not the same thing.’

His gaze searched my face; I did my best to hide my amusement that he felt he needed to explain the difference between texting and seeing each other, while also trying very hard not to leap in the air at his declaration that he wanted to see me.

‘No, Charlie, of course it’s not weird.’

I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Weird wasn’t the right word, confusing maybe. Unexpected, definitely, but not weird. It had been a couple of weeks since we started our fake relationship and I still didn’t know what to make of it. I wasn’t a fake relationship aficionado or anything, I’d never been in one before, but I was pretty certain you didn’t spend time together outside of when was pre-arranged, or necessary. Or as agreed in the rules.

But here my fake boyfriend was, standing in front of me, declaring he wanted to see me.

I was starting to wonder if maybe I didn’t understand how a fake relationship worked. Or maybe he didn’t.

My fist curled in; the words I’d written on it had long washed off but I could clearly do with another reminder. THIS IS NOT REAL.

‘So, do you have time for lunch? Please tell me you don’t have to rush off to something we forgot to add to the schedule. Did I miss a rehearsal?’ He grinned, like I wasn’t struggling with some kind of internal turmoil, and I wasn’t second guessing everything. No, he was just standing there, perfectly Charlie Masterson-esque looking as handsome as I’d ever seen him, asking me if I had time for lunch.

‘You want to go for lunch?’

‘Yes, I do,’ he laughed, holding his hand out for me to take. ‘Come on, there’s somewhere I have in mind.’

‘Okay then, lead the way.’

His long fingers wrapped around my hand, his fingertips brushing across my knuckles ever so slightly, before he led me off down the narrow cobblestone street, away from the English faculty, toward the Bodleian.

‘There’s a great place I want to take you to,’ Charlie nodded, guiding me through an alleyway at the top of which there seemed to be a crowd gathered.

It was large enough to assume there was a busker present. The lunchtime rush was always a coveted time, and especially when it wasn’t raining they could earn quite a bit of money. The crowd, however, turned out to be a long queue, all waiting outside a small store front over which a dark wooden, slightly tattered sign swung slowly in the wind.

Flanagan’s: Purveyors of Bespoke Sandwiches

To the side of the door was a small hole in the wall, where a red-headed woman was handing out brown, wax-paper bags to whomever was at the front. As we got closer, I realized there was an entirely separate line for anyone trying to get into the shop.

‘What is this place?’ I whispered, my brows knitting together in confusion, looking back up at the sign, because for the life of me I couldn’t ever remember seeing a queue like this for a sandwich. Especially in the freezing cold.

‘I thought Brooks might have told you about it.’ Charlie’s hand squeezed mine tightly and he leaned into me, his face lighting up with a broad smile. ‘But I’m so glad I get to be the one to introduce you. This is Flanagan’s. It opened when we were in first year, and became legendary. It’s kind of a secret, not that you’d know from the queue, but anyone who does know about it keeps it on the D/L because there’s a limit on orders every day and no one wants to get here only for them all to go.’

I’d been holding his gaze the entire time, and not once did he look like he was joking about this secret sandwich shop. Even when his story became more preposterous.

‘The line used to start forming at eight a.m. on Fridays, until they put the rule in you couldn’t queue for someone else, or hold a place in it.’ He pointed to a sign by the hatch saying exactly that. ‘Some of the third years used it as initiation for the first years.’

‘For a sandwich?!’ My eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What happens on Fridays?’

‘Roast beef,’ he replied with all the solemnity of a high court judge.

‘Charlie … come on.’ My head dropped with a loud laugh. He could tell a tale, I’d give him that. ‘There’s no way people were getting out of bed to queue for a sandwich.’

Charlie held his hands up. ‘Hey, I love sleep too. But you need to try it before you pass judgement.’

‘No. There’s no way.’ I shook my head, firm.

‘Come on. Follow me.’ He squeezed my hand again and pulled me past the line. I had no idea what he was planning, but we may as well have been walking to the velvet rope at the front of a club, given the death stares being shot my way as I followed him.

‘Charlie,’ I hissed, ‘the back of the queue is over there.’

He replied with one of his knowing smiles, just as a man – an enormous man, no less – with two full sleeves of tattoos, a burly-looking beard and an apron wrapped around his waist, stepped out through the shop door.

‘Charlie,’ he boomed, his hand outstretched, ‘I wondered when I’d see you. We’re already two weeks into term are we not?’

‘Sorry Jamie, been busy. Better late than never, though, eh?’

‘S’pose.’

I came from a family of tall people. Charlie was tall, but this guy looked like he recited ‘Fee-fi-fo-fum’ every night, and I swear I heard a crunch of bones as his thick, meaty hand wrapped around Charlie’s and pumped hard. Not that Charlie seemed to notice, even though telling him to be careful was on the tip of my tongue.

Jamie let go, then slapped him on the back with enough force to knock most people over, but again Charlie seemed unfazed, ‘Come, hope you’re hungry.’

‘I worked extra hard at training this morning in preparation.’

‘That’s what I like to hear. How’s your dad?’

‘He’s good. Been looking at a new site. He’s hoping to lure you back –’

The rest of Charlie’s sentence was drowned out by Jamie’s booming laugh, but I stopped listening the moment I stepped inside after them.

It wasn’t quite a restaurant, it wasn’t quite a store. If I was being kind I’d call it a type of cobbled-together pop-up food spot, though if we hadn’t walked past several empty small tables all far too close to each other, we could just as easily be in a butcher’s. White metro tiles, cement floor and random posters of cuts of meat only added to the aesthetic and something told me it wasn’t ironic. Maybe they’d moved in and never changed the décor.

Jamie stopped in front of a wooden table and chairs rimmed in aluminium; reminiscent of a desk-set I’d had at school. ‘Sit. I’ll be back with water.’

I did as I was told, taking one more look around before glancing at Charlie, hoping he was about to provide me with an explanation, only to find him staring at me with more enthusiasm than I’d ever seen in anyone before.

‘Okay, we have some ground rules to cover. One. I don’t share my sandwich …’

‘What?’

‘Two …’ he continued like he hadn’t just made the most bizarre statement ever, ‘you need to get a side of gravy because in my opinion it doesn’t come with enough.’

I glanced over my shoulder, still unconvinced this wasn’t some kind of practical joke. This had to be the weirdest place ever. We were the only ones in here, even though there were at least two dozen people waiting outside. If the air wasn’t filled with the distinct scent of meat cooking, I’d think it was a prank – although I wasn’t sure what sort of prank. Not a funny one, anyway. I turned back to Charlie to find him still talking.

‘Three … it’s Wednesday which means it’s Pork and Apple Pie day. It’s not my favourite, but it’s still good.’

‘Charlie, seriously? What? Where are we? I thought we were getting a sandwich.’

‘Shit, you’re not vegetarian are you?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Jamie’s not a fan.’

‘Of what?’

‘Vegetarians.’

‘Charlie! I’m going to need you to start from the beginning. What is this place? Where are all the people? I was kind of expecting Pret.’

We certainly weren’t in Pret.

‘Yeah, this is not Pret.’ Charlie looked at his watch, picked up the water which had been placed on our table and sat back with a grin. ‘They’ll all be let in in fifteen minutes. I called Jamie on my way to meet you and asked if we could come in early. It gets really busy and I wanted a little time on our own.’

I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no words; the last hour had taken an unexpected turn. In fact the whole of this month so far was unexpected.

‘I’ve known Jamie a long time, he trained under my dad, who’s a chef … my parents own a restaurant group, primarily in London. What … why are you looking at me like that?’

This time, I closed my mouth before I did something stupid like reel off the names of all of Charlie’s dad’s restaurants, which I worried might come across a little odd. But honestly, there’s not much a teenage girl with access to the internet can’t find out.

‘Um … sorry. Do you cook?’ I asked, scraping the barrel of logical questions I could ask without a) arousing suspicion and b) lying.

He nodded, his grin widening, ‘Yup. If I didn’t, we’d all starve in the house. Your brother’s not bad, when I let him in the kitchen. But everything he knows, I’ve taught him. And don’t let him tell you otherwise.’

My eyes widened because that was, in fact, news to me. I tried to tamp down the smile though, ‘I didn’t know you liked cooking.’

‘Brooks has been hiding it … clearly. You’ll have to come over for our Sunday lunch one weekend.’

‘I’d like that,’ I chuckled, trying to suppress the giggle which really wanted to let itself out because sixteen-year-old Violet would have died if she’d known one day Charlie Masterson would take her for lunch then invite her round to his place so he could cook for her.

It would have taken weeks to plan her outfit.

‘What’s so funny?’

I rolled my lips, ‘Nothing really, I was just thinking … I like getting to know things about you …’

He was silent for a moment, his finger running around the edge of the water glass, ‘Yeah, me too. Even though I’ve known you for years, I’ve never properly known you , known you.’

I nodded, ‘Same.’

‘Though,’ he grinned, ‘I bet I still know more about you.’

My eyebrow arched. I wasn’t about to tell him he’d lose that bet spectacularly. ‘Oh yeah? What?’

‘I know you like books. I remember a couple of summers ago I was at your place, and you spent most of it in the swing reading. You wouldn’t even come and swim.’

I hoped the blush on my cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt. I remembered that summer very well, and my memories weren’t of me not swimming or wanting to read, but rather from my vantage point in the swing I could get away with staring at Charlie wearing his swim trunks and nothing else. Reading provided my perfect alibi.

But the fact he noticed I’d stayed in the swing, more so remembered I’d stayed, had my heart fluttering.

‘I do like books.’

‘And you have your tattoo.’ He glanced down at my wrist resting on the table, and the little hand-drawn stack I’d had done on my seventeenth birthday. It was filled with the classic love stories – Pride and Prejudice , Emma , Romeo and Juliet , Little Women , Wuthering Heights – because one day I wanted a love worthy of the greats.

‘Very observant, Mr Masterson,’ I smiled at him.

‘Is that your only one?’

‘No. I have another. Right here.’ Charlie’s eyes dropped to my finger, rubbing the bottom of my ribcage. ‘What about you? Any tattoos?’

He shook his head with a grin. ‘Nope. I’m scared of needles.’

The thought of this man sitting in front of me, almost too big for the tiny school-style chairs, being scared of anything had me giggling hard. ‘It’s just a tiny scratch.’

‘Maybe, but I’m not willing to find out.’ His laugh boomed out, before he quietened and looked me. His green eyes held mine for long enough that a tiny heartbeat kicked up between my thighs.

I found myself reaching for my glass of water to gulp down, just to break the tension, right as two enormous sandwiches were placed in front of us, and from the look on Charlie’s face he’d completely forgotten about anything that had happened up to this very moment.

Layers and layers of dark pink meat overspilled from the softest-looking bread, smothered with a gooey sauce dripping down the sides. From the size of it, I wasn’t even sure how I would fit it in my mouth. There was no way of eating this and maintaining a pretence of being ladylike – it was worse than spaghetti bolognese and I already knew most of it would end up around my face.

‘Sorry, I should have warned you it can get messy,’ Charlie laughed as he pulled one of the plates towards him, sunk his knife into the bread and somehow managed to cut it in four. He pushed it back over to me. ‘Here, this makes it easier.’

‘Thank you …’ I reached over, examined it for longer than I should have and picked up the one that looked least like it would fall apart. ‘Here goes.’

Charlie was watching me so intently, with so much childlike anticipation brimming in his eyes, that even if this sandwich was only worthy of being thrown straight into the bin, I’d have told him it was the most perfect thing I’d ever tasted.

Luckily for me, I didn’t have to stretch my acting skills.

‘OMIGAWD.’

His smile spread from ear to ear, and given my mouth was still full, it took all my energy not to smile back.

‘It’s good right?’ he said, before picking up his sandwich whole, and taking a massive bite.

I nodded and for a good two minutes, the pair of us watched each other eat in silence.

It wasn’t as weird as it sounds, because that’s when the rest of the queue had been allowed entry and the tiny space was now bustling and loud with chatter.

‘Why did you want to study English?’ he asked, after another giant mouthful.

Wiping my fingers with a paper napkin, I sat back in the chair. I wasn’t quite at the jeans unbuttoning stage yet, but I was close. ‘I love words. I love books. Books have been around in one form or another for thousands of years, and the thought of being able to read something written that long ago …’ I shrugged, for some reason downplaying my love for reading in case Charlie thought less of me, because that’s exactly what Hugo did. Well, not less of me but you know, like reading was a waste of time when you could be doing something else. Rowing, for example. ‘It’s kind of silly, but I feel like there’s a magic to it. Anyway, that’s why.’

‘That’s how I feel about physics,’ he grinned.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, there’s something so pure about it,’ he nodded. ‘I guess Brooks missed out on the reading gene, huh? In fact, I’m not sure I’ve seen him with a book that’s not mandated by his class.’

‘Yeah. We’re so different. He’s smart, but his life has revolved around sport since he was little. Just like I was never very sporty, he’s never read for pleasure. Therefore, he thinks I live in my head,’ I chuckled, throwing out an eye roll for added effect, ‘and that I’m a drama queen.’

‘Then I’m in good company, he thinks I am too.’

‘Why are you a drama queen?’

He hesitated for a split second, and sipped his water. ‘Probably a story for another day.’

‘Well, at least you still have sport going for you too. Are you excited about the World Championships this summer?’

He nodded, his mouth too full of pork and apple to properly answer. Charlie was part of Team GB Rowing, alongside Oz, and the most important competition for them after the Boat Race this summer was the Rowing World Championships.

‘Mmm hmm,’ he answered, swallowing his mouthful. ‘Yes, the crew’s not been announced yet, but I should be selected if all goes well. There are a couple of guys from last year’s Team GB who are injured so the spaces have opened up. I’m feeling quietly confident that it might lend itself to a decent crew. We have some good juniors moving up.’

As he continued talking, I picked up another piece of my sandwich, realizing how totally relaxed I was in Charlie’s company. Even when we’d been rehearsing, there was always a tiny part of my brain reminding me of how close I was to him. But right now, sitting here with the world’s messiest lunch between us – it was almost like spending time with Stella.

Point being, it was easy. Charlie was easy. The only not-easy thing was coming to terms with the fact that spending time together like this – even without the first-date-style line of questioning – was doing nothing to help my crush.

Quite the opposite in fact.

It took another twenty minutes before we finally finished eating – or Charlie finished his, along with the rest of mine after I’d waved a white flag and admitted defeat. I drew the line at unbuttoning in front of Charlie and rolling to my next class.

I was almost tempted to go back to St Anne’s and change into leggings.

‘That was truly the best sandwich I’ve ever had,’ I told him.

‘Good enough to get out of bed for?’

‘Oooh,’ I grimaced, my nose scrunching up, ‘not sure I’d go that far.’

‘Tough crowd.’

I glanced down at our empty plates, only to find his fingers millimetres from mine, lined up middle to middle, index to index. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as his hand closed what little gap there was until the tips were brushing together. It was so soft that if I hadn’t witnessed it happening, I might not have known.

Stealth almost.

‘We should probably go. You don’t want to be late for class, and I have my session with Gordon I can’t miss.’

I managed to tear my eyes away from where our fingers were touching, to find him pulling a face, and whatever moment we’d had was over.

‘No. You mustn’t miss that. Not sure I want to know what happens when Gordon’s pissed off.’

The screech of Charlie’s chair along the tiled floor muffled the chuckle he let out as he stood up, ‘Oh he’d probably recite equations at me until I relented and apologized. And … I hate to say it, but I do think it’s been helpful. We’ve only had three sessions, but he runs them with an iron fist, as you can imagine, so there’s no way we’re not getting a first.’

‘Let’s get you there, then. Mustn’t be late.’

Jamie was nowhere to be seen when we looked around to say goodbye, so we stepped outside and into the cold. If possible it was even colder than when we’d entered. Charlie pulled on his baseball cap, zipped up his thick bodywarmer and once more held out his hand for me to take.

This time I didn’t question it, except as I took it something caught in my periphery. I don’t know why, out of everyone on this busy street, this particular movement was what had me turning around, but it did. Five metres away, standing halfway down the queue, was Evie with a friend, and I finally understood the term ‘if looks could kill’.

Just from the way her eyes hardened as she peered down to where Charlie and I were joined, she could probably be found guilty of grievous bodily harm.

If I wasn’t already shivering from the cold, her glare would have frozen me.

‘What are you …’ Charlie’s gaze shot over to where I was staring to find out why I’d stopped walking, and groaned. ‘Just ignore her, Violet. Come on.’

He dragged me off before I could argue or think any more about her, and his hand tightly wrapped around mine.

‘So, what’s the class this afternoon?’

‘Victorian England.’

‘Fascinating,’ he drawled, making it clear he absolutely didn’t find it fascinating, as his hand teasingly squeezed mine. ‘More Mill on the Floss , is it?’

‘ Mill on the Floss is no less fascinating than x equals y plus whatever it is …’ I shot back. ‘At least mine has some romance in it.’

‘Hey … there’s romance in physics.’

Whatever the look I gave him had him throwing his head back with laughter. His perfect smile on full display, deepening the dimples which only came out when he was really happy.

‘Come on. We can’t have you late for all the romance.’

We left the way we came, down the narrow, cobbled passageway – Charlie stepping back to let me go ahead of him, while somehow at the same time never letting go of my hand – until we reached the main road.

My palm cooled as his hand dropped, and I turned to find him easing a hand along the back of his neck.

‘Charlie, are you okay?’

He nodded, though it was clear he wasn’t quite sure. I waited, and waited some more. By my count, it was at least fifteen seconds of watching him have a conversation with himself. I was about to ask if he was going to share when …

It was so quick I didn’t see it happening. It was probably because all the confusion whirring through my brain had dulled my reflexes. But before my heart had time to beat again, my face was held between his huge hands, and my lips had been surrounded.

This was nothing like the kiss in the Blue Oar a couple of weeks ago. Nothing at all.

This was the first kiss I’d dreamed about as a teenager.

Strong and forceful, yet so gentle and delicate it was causing my eyes to water. Insistent, needy almost. Lips, Charlie’s lips that I’d been thinking about on a near-hourly basis since the first time I’d experienced them were once again on mine. Soft and firm, giving me no chance to escape. Not that I would have.

Nah uh. No way.

Somewhere between leaving the sandwich place and here, in the most perfect spot which existed in Oxford, he’d slipped in a stick of gum. Peppermint burst against my tongue as his roamed around my mouth, making me wonder if perhaps this kiss was something he’d been thinking about.

Thinking about it the way I had – and that perhaps this kiss wasn’t quite as impulsive as it initially seemed to be.

I didn’t know how long we were there, but the noise of the street and the bustle of people walking past – along with what might have been a cry of ‘get a room’ – came back into my consciousness as Charlie eased away.

His eyes scoured my face, but he’d find nothing but a flushed, thoroughly starry-eyed nineteen-year-old …

‘Sorry …’ was the first thing he said. And his hands dropped from my face, but only to my neck where his fingers were twisting into my hair.

‘Sorry for kissing me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why did you then?’

‘Because it was becoming impossible for me not to.’

Well … bloody hell. I didn’t see that coming.