Page 2

2. Violet :

(And there he was just walking down the street …)

‘Violet, if we don’t get a move on, we’re going to be late.’

I added a final coating of mascara and turned around to find my best friend, Stella, lying on my bed, flicking through this month’s Vogue , not in the least bit concerned about whether we were going to be late.

‘You’re not ready either.’

‘I am, I literally have to stand up and I’m ready.’

‘By that logic I’m more ready than you are.’ I pushed my hands through my hair and fastened it up in a messy bun. ‘Let’s go.’

Vogue was flung to the end of the bed, and she jumped up. ‘Do you know who else is auditioning today?’

I shook my head. ‘I know what you know.’

‘Ugh,’ she groaned, flinging her rucksack over her shoulders. Her hand paused on the doorknob. ‘I thought you might have heard whether the rumours about Leo Tavener were false.’

Grabbing my copy of Twelfth Night , I shoved it in my bag and pulled on my coat. ‘Nope, sorry. By my calculation we still have an hour of wishful thinking before we get to the theatre, and it’s confirmed he got the part without an audition.’

‘Yeah. And he’ll definitely be late so he can make an entrance.’ Her scoff was so thick and loud that it had her reaching for her water bottle before it turned into a coughing fit. ‘Yesterday he turned up to class wearing a Victorian cape. Professor Fournier asked him where his top hat was and reminded him he was taking French, not English.’

I stifled a giggle. ‘What did he say?’

‘Dunno, I didn’t hear over the sound of everyone rolling their eyes,’ she shrugged. ‘He won’t have noticed anyway. That boy is entirely infuriating, I’m amazed he can fit through the doors with the size of his ego,’ she continued grumbling. ‘Cecily could have warned us.’

I opened the door and gently shoved her out, before locking it behind us. ‘You know her feelings on keeping personal and professional lives separate.’

Stella’s grunt told me exactly what she thought of Cece’s stance, even though she was one of our friends. Especially as she was our friend. Stella was of the opinion we should be given insider secrets and preferential treatment due to the fact our friend was directing the summer play, but Cecily Caruthers and her ambitions to be a world-class theatre producer/director were unmatched.

‘ No reason why we shouldn’t behave like professionals, Stella,’ she mimicked in Cece’s clipped theatrical tone as we made our way down the stairs and outside.

‘If she wants professional, then someone should remind her that actors aren’t exactly known for their discretion. Theatre practically runs on gossip.’

‘But we’re talking about Leo Tavener . If I knew for sure he was getting the part of Orsino, I’d have serious second thoughts about auditioning.’

‘Maybe that’s why she’s said nothing. You know she wants you to be in the play.’

Stella harrumphed again.

In fairness to her, she had a point.

Leo Tavener. Leo Tavener. Oxford University Dramatic Society’s resident celebrity student. Former child actor, he began his career in a fabric conditioner advert which everyone still remembered due to his cuteness and one lisped line, ‘It’s thoft, Mummy,’ before he moved on to bigger and brighter things. This included several Hollywood movies, one of which earned him his first Oscar nomination. The next year he was nominated and won, making him the youngest person to receive two nominations in Oscars history.

In the unlikelihood you ever forgot about his awards, you would soon be reminded. It was something he loved to talk about.

Seriously, he could go on Mastermind with his specialist subject being himself.

Unfortunately for everyone he decided to take a break from acting, and further his education. More unfortunately for Stella and me, he’d decided to do it at the exact same time as us, which meant we had the next three years of being side by side with Leo Tavener to look forward to.

‘You must always seek to expand your knowledge, Violet,’ he told me last term when I asked him why he was bothering to go to university, in between telling me what I could also be doing better. Something that had my teeth gritting together. Borderline unbearable.

Look up the definition of a person obsessed with the sound of their own voice and his face would beam out at you. And he definitely made it deeper on purpose. But I’d managed to zone it out way better than Stella had because I didn’t have all my classes with him. He was reading French, just like her. I was also of the opinion that I had other things to waste my energy on than getting annoyed with him, because it would become a full-time job if I wasn’t careful, and I’d burn out before the six-month marker.

‘I don’t know why Cece puts up with him. Or allowed him to be part of the production. It’s amateur for a reason, and we all know he’s not.’

‘Yeah, he reminded me of that again yesterday,’ I chuckled, pulling my gloves on as she pushed through the front doors and into the freezing January air. ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t changed his name to Leonardo di Tavener.’

She threw me an exasperated look. ‘Ugh. Please. I’m sure she’ll regret it once he starts telling her how to direct.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be first in line to say, “I told you so”. But I have a feeling she didn’t have much choice. Linus wanted him to add cachet to the summer schedule.’

‘Ugh,’ she harrumphed again, making me wonder if maybe she’d forgotten to have breakfast, because she was way grumpier this morning than she had been on any other morning since the start of term. We’d only officially been back three days; it was too early for the novelty and excitement of a new year to have vanished already. ‘With a name like Linus Rockwell he wasn’t going to be anything other than a theatre producer was he?’

‘I dunno, he could probably be a high court judge. It’s got a certain je ne sais quoi .’ I winked, and she finally smiled. ‘Rockwell/Carruthers Productions … at least when they’re both insanely rich and famous with awards lining their mantels we can say we knew them once.’

‘Maybe I’ll sell my story,’ she snorted, pulling her beanie down lower and pushing her arm through mine, linking us together for added warmth. ‘Bloody hell, it’s freezing today. Can we swing by the dining hall? I want to grab a piece of toast or something.’

I knew it.

‘Of course we can, my little hangry bestie,’ I grinned, and we took off down the path leading to the dining hall.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, relaxing against me. ‘Hey, have you heard any more from Charlie?’

I shook my head, trying to contain a little of the disappointment that made my belly ache any time I thought about Charlie Masterson and his proposal. Okay, a lot of it. ‘Nope.’

‘Do you think he’s changed his mind on the whole fake girlfriend thing?’

‘I dunno,’ I shrugged.

It had been a week and I hadn’t heard a peep.

‘I’m sure you will.’

‘Term has started. He would have already texted me, surely?’ I kept my tone as casual as possible and not like I’d been thinking of any and all scenarios in my head as to why I hadn’t heard from him since he walked me back to St Anne’s.

‘He’s a guy – who knows what they think?’

That was a very valid point.

‘Probably for the best he hasn’t. It’s not really part of the whole plan I had to move on from him,’ I sighed.

I’d been doing so well.

It had been eighteen months since I’d last seen Charlie Masterson, and my heart had been lulled into a false sense of security that I was over him. I’d gotten through the first term without so much as a hint of a relapse. I’d mostly avoided my brother and his friends altogether. Even on my illicit trips to use his bathtub, I never once peeked into Charlie’s bedroom, no matter how much I wanted to.

But the first hurdle came crashing down around me when Hugo gave Charlie my phone number.

(Without my permission I might add, not to mention forewarning.)

I’d successfully not replied to any of his strange little messages over Christmas even though my fingers twitched every time I looked at my phone. At first I’d assumed it was some kind of weird joke or – more likely – my brother up to something. It was only when Hugo intervened and requested I reply to Charlie that I relented. I wish I’d pushed a little more on why Charlie wanted to see me, but I was too busy trying to ignore the way my insides were bubbling around and tying themselves in knots.

‘You’ll get there again. You went a whole month in Australia without talking about Charlie when you hooked up with that surfer Brad.’

A wide smile curled my lips at the memory, and I hugged Stella tighter as a particularly cold gust of air hit us. I certainly missed the sunshine.

Surfer Brad was not to be confused with bartender Brad, who Stella spent a lot of nights with during the Gold Coast section of our gap year travelling around the Southern Hemisphere. He could have been the youngest Hemsworth brother – or at least a close cousin.

The Gold Coast was the one and only time in my life when I’d successfully got up before sunrise, because Brad would take me onto the water to watch the yolky orange sun burst through the horizon and set the ocean alight. Even though I’d yawned through most of it, I’d loved every second, and found myself completely swept away with the magic of living a life on the beach.

But, like all good things must, it came to an end when Stella and I moved on to South America, and surfer Brad morphed into polo player Gabriel.

Charlie Masterson, however, was not the same as a month-long romance with someone I’d never see again.

Charlie Masterson was my long-term crush.

Charlie Masterson had owned my heart since I was fourteen, and it would take more than a fling for it to switch allegiances.

Since I’d pushed open the doors to the pub and seen Charlie sitting by the fire, it was clear my crush had merely been dormant. The second I’d laid eyes on him my little heart fluttered in excitement at the familiarity. I’d tried to remain nonchalant. I’d summoned all the calm I had in my arsenal, and just like Beyoncé had once done, I channelled my inner Sasha Fierce. My as-yet-unnamed alter ego. My inner award-winning actress.

If I do say so myself, I’d done a damn fine job at it. I should have won an award.

Eighteen months had passed yet it could have been yesterday for all that had changed about him. Unless you counted a thick coating of stubble on a previously smooth face, a broader chest, thicker shoulders and more heavily defined muscles. His hair was still the same light brown with the little cowlick at the side that never seemed to flatten, still the same bright green eyes always brimming with mischief, and a slightly crooked, bemused smile he’d never realized made my heart beat double-time.

But then his plan had been laid out, and I almost broke.

Rushing to the loo, I stood in front of the mirror with my alter-ego staring back. Even she had misgivings as to why I’d just agreed to possibly the worst idea in history. What did I think I was doing?

I went back out to tell him I’d changed my mind, only to find Evie Waters standing by our table. The panic on Charlie’s face coupled with the large glass of wine on an empty stomach was all I needed to forget my own hesitations, and get him away from her as quickly as possible.

In the twenty minutes we took to walk back to St Anne’s his arm didn’t once drop from around my shoulder. Truth be told, I think he’d been in almost as much shock as I was – only his shock made him monosyllabic.

Mine manifested itself with verbal diarrhoea.

For twenty minutes I’d done all the talking – prattling on about Christmas, skiing over New Year, auditions and the summer play, training for the Boat Race, my brother … you name it, I likely mentioned it.

‘Thank you, Violet,’ he’d mumbled against my cheek when he’d kissed me goodbye and taken off down the path, disappearing into the darkness before I’d had a chance to respond.

I almost wondered if my exceptionally vivid imagination hadn’t conjured up the entire scenario, until I remembered Stella knew about it. I’d found her sitting outside my dorm room waiting for me when I plodded my way up the stairs in a zombie-like state.

‘I’ve really messed up this time,’ I’d told her, trying to figure out if my chest might burst. Then proceeded to explain why.

‘Why don’t you start dating again? What about that guy from your History of English class last term? You said he was hot,’ Stella continued.

I shook my head, ‘Matthew Collins? Nah, he’s not dating material. He’s one-night-only type of fun.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘Nothing. I still have classes with him, and I don’t want it to get weird. I need to get myself out of this Charlie situation first without starting another one.’

‘Don’t give yourself a hard time, with the play rehearsals you’ll be too busy to think about him.’

My shoulders slumped. ‘Yeah, I know. I just wish he’d been a terrible kisser, with bad breath or something. It would be easier to move on,’ I grouched, and attempted to block out the memory of what Charlie’s mouth felt like before it careered back into my brain.

Too late.

I’d spent a lot of time during my teenage years wondering what it would be like to kiss Charlie Masterson. I’d wonder whether his lips would feel as soft as they looked; if he’d cup my face or grip my hair like they did in the movies. I prayed we’d be sitting so my legs didn’t give way. I knew for a fact he’d be better at kissing than Matthew Wainwright, or James Brewers, or any of the other boys that featured in my real-life formative teenage years.

He had to be. He was two years older than me. He was ‘experienced’.

He was Charlie Masterson.

My number one.

Even when I started dating properly, and fell in love with my first boyfriend – Miles Garland – the flame which had burned for Charlie since the first time Hugo had brought him home one half-term never fully extinguished.

Then one week ago exactly, I’d finally discovered the answers to all my questions. They were that soft, and the way he curled my hair around his finger was better than having it gripped. It was enough to bring a butterfly to life in my chest. Our first kiss had lived up to the expectations and more, even if the circumstances under which it occurred were less than ideal.

‘Have you ever considered that maybe you’re not supposed to move on?’

My eyes flicked to Stella. ‘What?’

‘This could be the universe giving you a chance. Text him, you have his number, and the perfect excuse. Just ask him what the plan is.’

‘Uh uh.’ I shook my head, hard. ‘No. No way. It’s not a good idea. If he wants to go through with this, then he’ll message me.’

‘Vi, this could be the role of a lifetime for you.’

The breath I huffed out clouded as it hit the cold air. ‘There will be other more suitable roles.’

‘Want to know what I would do?’

Even with a side eye, I could see Stella grinning mischievously. I shouldn’t ask, but she’d only tell me anyway.

‘What? What would you do?’

‘I would use this opportunity to my advantage.’

‘What? What does that mean?’

‘It means be a really perfect fake girlfriend, and he’ll never want to let you go,’ she replied simply. ‘Make him fall in love with you.’

I barked out a laugh; loud enough that a couple of St Anne’s students passing us on the path stopped their own conversation and looked at me. But I was looking at Stella, trying to make it clear exactly how absurd I thought she was. Maybe it was the hunger. It hadn’t just made her grouchy, it was making her delusional.

‘First off, that’s ridiculous. Second, I’m not his type, Stel. I’m too tall. He likes short girls if Evie is anything to go by,’ I grumbled. ‘And brunettes.’

‘But he doesn’t like her, does he. That’s why he’s got you faking it.’

‘He hasn’t got me anything. I haven’t heard from him in a week,’ I repeated.

She offered nothing but a nonchalant shrug, but that was the point where we reached the dining hall so it was likely all her brain cells were occupied with finding food, and coffee.

It was late enough that breakfast was coming to an end, and the only students still in here were ones who were more committed to sleep than a fresh coffee and first dig through the scrambled eggs. Right now all that remained on the hatch were a few slices of warming toast, and rows of cereal.

I grabbed a couple of to-go coffee cups and filled them, while Stella was working on convincing the dining staff to fetch some fresh bread for her. It didn’t take her long. Stella’s powers of persuasion were unmatched, and she was soon biting into a hot slice slathered with butter and orange marmalade.

She thrust a half-eaten piece out to me, ‘You want a bit?’

‘No thanks.’

‘I can eat and walk then,’ she muttered, stuffing the remainder in her mouth and starting on the next. ‘Now my brain’s not focused on food, I can think properly.’

We walked away from St Anne’s in silence; Stella was happily munching through her toast while my mind was supposed to be thinking about the auditions, but was actually thinking about Charlie. Now term had begun, the streets were much busier. We were between the hour, so there were less students hurrying to a class they were late for, but enough that Stella and I had to step aside a couple of times to let some rush past. Some wore the dark blue colours of Oxford, mingling with those wearing the crests of the different colleges, or like us, whatever we could find in our wardrobes.

‘Do you know what scenes they’re going to ask us to audition?’

I shook my head. ‘No, but we’ll have the script with us, so it doesn’t matter.’

‘Are we auditioning with people?’

I shrugged, ‘Stel, I know what you know, which is to say …’

‘Nothing,’ she interrupted.

‘Exactly.’

‘You want to rehearse some lines?’ she asked as we neared the physics building.

‘Yeah, go for it.’

She pulled her backpack off and found her copy of Twelfth Night , ‘Let’s start with the first scene, I’ll play Olivia then we can switch.’

‘Cool,’ I replied, as Stella cleared her throat.

‘Hey, isn’t that Charlie?’

My mouth opened to respond but it wasn’t a line I recognized. ‘What?’

‘There. Look. It’s Charlie.’

My head snapped around to where she was pointing. My mouth opened another degree because twenty-five metres away Charlie was jogging across the street heading straight for us. His eyes locked onto mine, and instantly a smile spread across his face. With each long stride his smile grew.

And my heart spluttered.

The summer I was fourteen Charlie and Oz had come to spend a week at our house, along with their other friend, Olly. It was one of those heatwave weeks, and they’d spent the entire time around the pool. I was too nervous to go out and join them, so instead I stayed reading in the shade, sitting in the swing my dad had installed on our large oak tree.

One afternoon my mum had made a batch of ginger beer, and she’d asked me to take a jug out to the boys, which I’d been only too happy to do. Charlie had leapt up to help the second he spotted me. As he’d eased the tray laden with glasses, ginger beer and snacks from my fingers he’d flashed me a wide smile showing off perfect straight white teeth. The combination of sunshine and swimming had turned his eyes more blue than green, and the reflection of the water really made it seem like they were sparkling.

I’d been aware that Evie was his girlfriend at the time, but my heart never got the message because that was the point I fell hopelessly in love. I’d run back inside and called Stella, wondering when I’d ever get to see him smile at me like that again.

I had my answer.

Bloody hell. This wasn’t good.

I was standing there trying to stop my mouth from dropping open, while my best friend snickered next to me. My brain and heart began arguing again about what I was doing and whether or not I should really be doing it.

The jury didn’t reach its verdict before Charlie reached me.

He stopped in front of me, his smile still wide. ‘I thought I recognized that coat.’

I looked down at the green faux fur.

It was kind of bright, but it was my favourite shade – emerald. And more importantly, it was warm.

I managed to smile, right at the moment he leaned forward. I never found out what he was leaning forward for, because I shifted my bag on my shoulder which caused me to jerk slightly and my forehead hit his with a hard thud.

‘Ouch. Jesus.’

‘God. Are you alright?’ he asked, while I tried to stop the throbbing in my brain, especially when he reached out and touched me.

The pad of his thumb brushed against the point of collision. It helped, but only because the rest of my face immediately and uncharacteristically flushed pink and throbbed harder until it was impossible to tell what it was throbbing from more. Though the second he realized what he was doing his hand dropped and clenched at his side.

‘Sorry about that.’

‘My fault too,’ I managed to mumble.

Next to me Stella snorted. ‘God, you two really need to get better co-ordinated if you’re going to be a believable couple.’

Charlie’s green eyes flicked to hers with a wide blink, like he’d only just realized someone was standing next to me, then let out a soft chuckle.

‘Yeah …’ he pushed his hands into the pockets of his trackpants, and rocked back on his heels. ‘Um … about that … I was going to text you, but then I saw you walking … are you around this afternoon? Can we talk?’

I tried not to watch his mouth move while he spoke, even though it was right at my eye level. His full, soft mouth that I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing again.

‘Sure. Yes. Sure,’ I repeated.

Maybe the knock had loosened a few brain cells. Probably.

‘Great.’ He grinned, his mouth lifting a little more on the left, though I was more focused on how his dimples deepened and his wide nose crinkled in the middle. ‘I’ll come to you, about threeish?’

I forced myself to nod. ‘Cool.’

‘Cool.’ His eyes never left mine, he rocked forward slightly but then stopped, like he thought better of whatever he’d been about to do, while all I could do was concentrate on not breathing him in. The air was already permeated with the scent I always associated with Charlie – warm and sweet, like honey and hot, rainy days.

The lock on our gaze was only broken by a low cough to my right, and I turned to find Stella grinning. If I wasn’t so dazed, I’d have scowled at her.

‘Um, we have to go, we have auditions.’ I thumbed behind me, in the wrong direction.

‘Oh, yeah, cool.’ Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘Good luck. See you later.’

‘Bye, Charlie.’ Stella looped her arm in mine and tugged me away. I didn’t dare turn around in case he caught me. ‘Golly, he’s definitely become more handsome than when we were at school. No wonder you’re in a tizz.’

This time my scowl was on point.