Page 3

3. Charlie :

(Does anyone have a JCB I could borrow?)

I snatched the documents from the printer and held them side-by-side.

Was this a stupid idea? It was probably a stupid idea.

No. It was definitely a stupid idea.

I was supposed to have an IQ of 150 but figuring a way to get out of the situation I’d gotten myself into was beyond me. Shit-uation more like.

Perhaps I should get the keys to a JCB; it would be a far quicker way to reach the bottom of the giant hole I was digging.

Fucking Evie. This was all her fault.

As I saw it, my problem was three-fold.

If Evie hadn’t been in the pub last week, I’d have never kissed Violet.

If I’d never kissed Violet, I’d still be in the realm of theory versus living the reality.

If I’d never kissed Violet then I wouldn’t now be running on a combination of caffeine and Jaffa Cakes, and no sleep. I’d be able to think clearly, and I wouldn’t have survived a week with an incessant guilt churning in my gut.

Guilt. That’s what it was.

Guilt I’d kissed my best friend’s sister.

Guilt I still hadn’t told him about it.

Guilt that it would never have happened if I’d come up with a different plan in the first place.

But that wasn’t the worst bit.

The worst bit? The really most heinously dreadful guilt-inducing part of kissing Violet Brooks – I think I liked it.

No, not think. I did definitely like kissing Violet Brooks.

I’d sworn off women after first year, when Evie cheated on me a second time with David Chamberlain. Since then, I’d had a handful of barely memorable, mostly drunken hook-ups, nothing worth repeating or talking about. I’d rarely thought about them again.

But Violet?

I’d thought about it – her – way too fucking much. For mine or anyone else’s liking. Not that anyone else knew yet. I hadn’t completely lost my mind.

It had occurred to me that perhaps I’d only been thinking about kissing Violet because it was months since I’d kissed anyone. Therefore, common sense would suggest it was likely the novelty of kissing someone again which was causing my brain to go into overdrive. But I couldn’t be sure and didn’t know how to prove it without going around campus and kissing three to six other girls – like some snogging focus group.

Except, that kind of behaviour would not only raise several questions I didn’t want to answer but most certainly get back to Evie.

I was stuck with only my Violet kiss to draw conclusions from.

Violet’s mouth on my mouth.

I’d once overheard my sister talking to her friend about some model and her pillowy lips. And I thought, ‘What the fuck does that mean? How can lips be like pillows? Stupid way to describe them,’ then promptly forgot all about it. But last Wednesday in the Blue Oar, at approximately three p.m., I’d learned exactly what pillowy lips were. Soft and plump, fitting so perfectly into mine I could feel myself sink into them.

Yeah, pillowy was a perfect description.

My body had been on autopilot as it let her take the lead.

I could almost still taste the berries and wine coating her warm, silky tongue as it slid along mine; the delicate moan vibrating up her throat, the violet tips of her honey-coloured strands sliding through my fingers …

Arggh!

See … anytime I think about kissing her I drift off. It’s been fucking impossible to get anything done.

I couldn’t afford to lose focus. I was not in a position to get nothing done. Right now, time was very much of the essence. You get my drift?

I was heading into a long stretch consisting of the Boat Race and finals, and it was debatable what was more important.

Boat Race training was about to go from hard to brutal. To compete in it on adrenaline alone would be impossible, even for someone who didn’t crave sleep more than air – unlike me.

It was the reason I’d sought out Violet in the first place – to stop me from getting sucked into Evie and her inevitable game playing again. I didn’t trust myself not to. But I clearly hadn’t thought through my plan properly, because kissing Violet had not been a distraction I’d foreseen and now I didn’t know which was worse. Having to deal with Evie or trying not to kiss Violet again.

It was alarming how much I wanted to.

It was the reason I hadn’t texted her since I’d left her outside her halls.

Yesterday, after an exhausting day of not enough sleep, too much thinking and a savage land training session in the gym I’d almost convinced myself I was panicking about Evie over nothing. I could handle her.

I’d decided to pull the plug on the entire operation, if only so I could go back to functioning like a normal human being again. I’d figure something else out.

Except Evie had been waiting for me outside the Tank.

For a split second I saw the girl I’d once hopelessly loved waiting for me, her fingers linked together in front of her. Then I remembered the time I’d spotted her waiting for Dave Chamberlain after rugby practice, right when we broke up the second time, and my heart hardened again.

‘Can we talk?’ she’d asked.

‘Nope,’ I’d replied, and jogged straight past her.

I knew she’d never attempt to catch me. Evie and cardio weren’t friends.

Therefore, instead of pulling the plug, I’d gone in search of Violet first thing this morning – well, first thing after training, breakfast, and my Nuclear and Particle Physics tutorial. My first class with Evie was tomorrow, so I had until then to come up with something believable, though it was anyone’s guess whether it would happen.

Swiping my beanie from my desk, I pulled it on and eased open my bedroom door, listening for any sound of my housemates, specifically the largest, noisiest one.

Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone you live and train with all day every day?

Very. It’s very hard.

I’d spent most of the past week holding my breath in anticipation of any questions about Violet. But as luck would have it Brooks had been too busy with the beginning of term work chaos to have asked me anything at all, and maybe if I crossed my fingers really hard, he’d have forgotten about the matter entirely. He wasn’t the most perceptive member of our household as it was, so it was possible I’d earned myself a little grace period before I had any explaining to do.

I walked into the kitchen to find Oz standing over a shepherd’s pie, though standing was generous seeing as his nose was almost brushing the mashed potato.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What’s this?’ he asked without peering around.

‘Shepherd’s pie. What does it look like?’

‘Did you make it?’

‘Yes, it’s for dinner …’ I swiped the fork he’d been holding ready to dig in, and threw it into the sink, ‘… not lunch. I expect it to be here when I get back.’

He stood up, his thick black brows knitting together, and reached for the large bag of crisps he’d clearly been eating before he found something a little more appetizing. His fist was still inside the bag when he opened the fridge door and peered inside.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘Um … I have to …’ I peered down at the pieces of paper I was holding. My rucksack was still on the kitchen table, exactly where I’d dumped it earlier, and I shoved them inside to hide the evidence before Oz noticed anything. The guilt churned in my stomach again. ‘Where’s Brooks?’

‘Lectures.’

Snatching up my body warmer, I looped my arms through it and zipped it up. I should be running out the door before I did something stupid, like confess what had happened. But also, if I didn’t talk to someone soon, I might explode or have a serious mental breakdown.

Like Brooks, Oz had been one of my best friends since we were thirteen years old. He was usually good for a bit of advice, as long as he was listening.

‘Actually, mate … can I talk to you about something?’

‘Sure, what?’ I think he mumbled, though his head was too far inside the fridge to decipher properly.

I should have known better. It was pointless trying to talk to Oz about anything unless he’d been fed. He was also the most inept person I’d ever met in a kitchen. He could barely butter bread. My biggest achievement in recent years had been teaching him how to successfully make our morning porridge before training, especially because it meant I got to spend an extra fifteen minutes in bed.

The rucksack was dropped back on the table. Gently shoving him out of the way, I grabbed the remains of a chicken I’d roasted for dinner yesterday, along with salad and tomatoes.

‘Get the bread. I’ll make you a sandwich.’

He grinned wide and slapped me on the back. ‘You turned up just in time, Charles. I’d starve without you.’

Oz removed two slices of the sourdough I’d bought this morning, placed them on the wooden cutting board, sat down at the kitchen island and waited. I’d made him enough food that he knew the drill by now. Both of them did.

We’d known each other long enough that living together was far more domesticated than it should be for three guys in their early twenties, but each of us had very specific roles.

I cooked, shopped and organized the day-to-day running of the house; Brooks managed our diary – which included everyone’s whereabouts, bins and recycling; Oz managed the bills and finances.

It had been this way since we moved in together during first year. Our street was quiet, with mostly families, therefore very few parties took place keeping us awake all night like they had at Trinity College. Parents and rowers seem to follow the same early-to-bed, early-to-rise agenda.

The other reason we’d moved out of halls was Evie.

After she’d gone off with Dave Chamberlain, I’d bumped into her/them far too much for my liking. The final straw had occurred one Saturday morning: Oz and I happened to be on our way back from a jog, and spotted Evie and Dave near to Trinity, where neither of them had any reason to be, in an embrace that looked like they were trying to survive on carbon dioxide alone.

After Oz had calmed me down, he called a meeting between the three of us and announced he was taking an investment opportunity, and we promptly went house hunting.

A month later, we moved into number 5 Tolkien Lane.

It had already been modernized, and the best thing about the house was the kitchen – the people who’d lived here before obviously liked to cook. As did I.

I’d been brought up in a family who knew the value of good food. My parents own a restaurant group, the jewel in the crown of which is Petal – a three-Michelin-star establishment my dad runs just outside London, with views of the River Thames. While I’d never wanted to become a chef, my siblings and I grew up watching and learning. If you wanted a meal in our house, you earned it by chopping vegetables or making a marinade.

By the time I was twelve I could debone a chicken and fillet a fish.

I spend time in the kitchen the way other people do yoga. I can lose myself for hours on the perfect Sunday roast; and our house is usually full after a long weekend of hard training when everyone comes back here to be fed.

I spooned out a dollop of mayonnaise onto the bread and pushed it towards Oz to spread.

‘Do you want tomatoes?’

He nodded, ‘Yes please.’

‘How’s Kate?’ I asked, slicing one up as thinly as I could, while simultaneously trying to buy myself some time and figure out how to broach the subject of Violet.

While Oz was supportive of the whole ‘Operation Get Rid of Evie’, I couldn’t see him thinking that making out with Violet was a good idea. Even I didn’t think it was a good idea.

It wasn’t.

‘She’s good, though I haven’t seen her since New Year. I feel like I’m getting withdrawal. Spending all that time together at Christmas was amazing, but now I don’t know when I’ll see her again. Even though that river cleaning was a stupid pain in the arse, at least it meant I got to see her. Training is already getting more intense.’

I nodded, ‘Yeah, I know. This term is going to be a lot.’

‘I can’t wait until the race is over so we can stop hiding,’ he grumbled, tipping the bag of crisps into his mouth until the last shreds fell in, then going back to the bread he was preparing.

Oz’s girlfriend Kate was studying medicine at Cambridge. He’d met her at the beginning of the school year, on a visit to the city for reasons we probably shouldn’t mention. He’d been smitten at first sight, while she didn’t want anything to do with him as a member of the rival boat club crew because, as he’d learned later, Kate was a member of the Cambridge women’s boat club. His perseverance had paid off, however, and he and Kate soon became as inseparable as a couple could be 200 miles apart. Even though we weren’t going to be racing directly against her, they’d been keeping their relationship a secret, more for Kate’s sake than Oz’s. Oz would shout about it from the rooftops given half a chance.

‘Only two and a half months left,’ I smiled in an attempt to pull him back out of the mood he’d suddenly dropped into.

‘It feels so far away.’ He pushed the sourdough over to me, ‘That reminds me, Coach called and we have to get to the boathouse by four.’

My hand paused mid-air, half the tomato I was holding flopped on to the bread. ‘What?’

‘He wants to see everyone from last year’s Blue Boat.’

‘Why?’ I asked, forcing myself to concentrate on finishing Oz’s sandwich instead of panicking about meeting Violet, because if I had to be down at the boathouse I would have barely any time to discuss the much more pressing issues of Violet and me fake dating.

Oz shrugged as I pushed the sandwich back, his focus taken by food. The first half almost got swallowed in one.

‘Umghawditssogoodgeniusyouare.’

Oz continued mumbling incoherently through each bite, while I cleared up and put the shepherd’s pie away just in case Brooks got home early and decided to eat it, and tried to figure out what to do about my plans which had been blown up. This wasn’t a conversation to rush.

‘Are you not having one?’

I turned to Oz and shook my head, ‘Not hungry.’

That was another thing. The guilt had robbed me of my appetite. Except for Jaffa Cakes, I could always fit them in.

With the remainder of his sandwich in his hand, Oz got up and flicked the kettle on, ‘Want a cup of tea?’

‘No thanks.’

I stood there silently while he pulled a mug from the cupboard. I stood and waited. I knew there was no point in talking until I had his undivided attention. Plus I was still figuring out where to start. I watched in silence as he poured the boiling water, squeezed out the teabag and dropped it on the counter. Once he’d added his milk and finished making a mess, he leaned back against the kitchen cupboard.

‘Are there any biscuits?’

I sighed loudly, marched into the pantry, grabbed the chocolate digestives and placed them in front of him.

‘Um … are you okay?’ he asked. I was about to respond when he snapped his fingers. ‘Shit, sorry mate, I completely forgot. How’s it going with Evie? Have you seen her yet?’

I took a deep breath and nodded slowly, ‘Yeah. I …’

‘What’s happening with Violet? Have you managed to get hold of her? Is she going to help you?’

Brooks hadn’t been the only one swept up in beginning of term chaos, though in Oz’s case he returned from the Christmas holidays later than we had so he could spend more time with Kate. In fact, as I stood there trying to figure out an answer I realized I’d managed a small miracle with it not being mentioned at all until now.

I hadn’t even told them about Violet breaking into the house – though I’d probably keep that to myself.

‘Yup,’ I nodded, hoping I was giving off the calm, chilled vibe I was trying to summon, even though I could feel beads of sweat forming down my back, ‘Yeah, yes she’s going to help. I’m going to see her now, actually.’

Oz dunked a chocolate digestive into his tea, then shoved it whole into his mouth. A little puddle of brown liquid was forming under where he’d left the teabag; I picked it up and tossed it into the bin, then wiped down the counter for the second time.

‘So the plan is all in place then? Get rid of Evie for good. Violet was cool with it?’

‘Yeah, she said she’s going to use it for acting experience.’ I laughed, and the tension between my ribs loosened a fraction. One good thing about this mess was how calm Violet had remained. She didn’t even blink when I asked her. And the only thing which had lessened the guilt I’d been feeling was the knowledge I might be helping her in some small way too.

‘Amazing work, Charles. I’ll admit I thought the plan was a little out there, but I have full faith you’ll pull it off. And it’s Violet … so it’s not like you’re going to be tempted to make out with her or anything. I mean, could you imagine …’ Oz’s head fell back with a loud guffaw, hard enough that he banged it on the cupboard door. ‘Ouch.’

He was too distracted to notice my face had lost all colour. I knew it had. I’d felt the warmth drain from my cheeks the second he mentioned kissing her.

Oz was still laughing as I took a step back, followed by another. Making a big show of looking at my watch, I grabbed my backpack from the table and hurried to the door.

‘Shit, is that the time? Must dash. Don’t eat the pie. Meet you at the Tank later.’

I was on my bike and down the road before he had a chance to reply, peddling away like my life depended on it. Oz was far more perceptive than Brooks, and he’d be able to suss out any secret I was keeping within a matter of minutes. And if Oz thought kissing Violet was a bad idea, then it definitely was.

I needed a solution, and fast.

With each turn of my wheels the cold January air invigorated my lungs. By the time I arrived at St Anne’s and chained my bike up, I hadn’t exactly come up with a better plan, but the fresh oxygen had given me a renewed optimism that perhaps it wasn’t as bad as I’d been thinking it was.

I was just reaching for my phone to let her know I was there when a flash of green caught the corner of my eye and a smile spread across my face before my brain registered why it was doing so.

‘Charlie?’

‘Hey, Violet.’

‘You’re very prompt, aren’t you?’ she said, stopping in front of me.

‘Not usually,’ I chuckled, and just like this morning I leaned in to kiss her cheek. I don’t know why I did it, but there was something about her smooth rosy skin, cold from the air, that I wanted to feel against my lips. Her blue eyes wide and sparkling, like sunshine in a cloudless sky. ‘How was your audition?’

‘It was good …’ her smile was followed by a loud sigh, ‘although … ugh, God … do you know the actor, Leo Tavener?’

‘Um …’ I nodded. ‘Yeah, maybe. I don’t think I’ve seen him in anything though. Why?’

‘You know he’s at Oxford?’

‘No.’ I shook my head, and my eyes opened wider, especially at the annoyance crossing Violet’s face, because I’m not sure I’d ever seen her annoyed. As far as I was concerned, Violet was eternally happy and full of sunshine, but I kind of liked the scowl she was wearing.

‘He is, and he’s an insufferable know-it-all. He got the part of Orsino without even auditioning.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, trying to hold in the grin at how annoyed she clearly was. I also wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about, because Shakespeare was not my strong point. ‘But, did you get the part you wanted?’

Biting the end of one of her striped gloves, she eased it off and brushed a loose violet strand of hair away from her face, ‘I don’t know yet. Hopefully – we’ll find out next week – but the part I want is opposite him, and it means I’ll have to spend the next few months with him. Ugh.’

‘When’s the play?’

‘The beginning of next term. Rehearsals start in two weeks.’

‘I’d offer to step in, but I’m not sure my skills stretch to Shakespeare.’ I finally let out the laugh I’d been holding onto. In turn it made her laugh – a deep, throaty sound that set off a flutter in my chest that made me wonder if I was having an aneurism or something. Not that I knew what that felt like, but it was probably similar.

‘No, I can’t exactly see you on stage, Chazzle. Though you’d certainly fill out the tights and doublet nicely, if your rowing singlet is anything to go by.’

As soon as she said it, her eyes popped wide and her cheeks turned from light pink to deep fuchsia. The Violet I’d always known said whatever popped into her brain and did it with zero shame or embarrassment, so I wasn’t entirely sure why she was now staring at me. I stood there, waiting to see if she was going to add anything else, or maybe blink, while also trying my hardest to bite down on the smile threatening to break out.

‘I’d hope so. Otherwise all that training would have gone to waste,’ I replied eventually.

‘Yes, well … quite,’ she spluttered when she finally recovered, though didn’t quite meet my eye. ‘Anyway, what was it you had for me?’

I eased my backpack off, and pulled out the two pieces of paper I’d printed off earlier. Violet took them from me, and after thirty seconds of studying the coloured grids on each page, she looked up.

‘What is this?’

I peered at the one in her right hand, ‘This is your timetable, the other one is mine. We can overlap them, and see where we can meet up.’

‘Mine is purple?’

I glanced down at the page again, ‘Yes … violet, actually. To match you.’

Her eyes shot to mine, and I kind of wished I hadn’t pointed that out, or done it in the first place. Why did I make them violet?

‘Charlie, how did you get my schedule?’

‘Um …’ I cleared my throat, ‘I can access the university servers.’

Her eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing under her navy beanie. ‘Huey always says you’re freakishly scary with computers.’

I grinned. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, and I don’t do it for anything underhand. I don’t change grades or anything.’

‘You can change grades?’ she whispered.

‘Probably. I’ve never tried though.’ I tapped the pages again hoping to move the subject away from anything which would likely get me kicked out of Oxford, and probably invited to do some prison time. ‘Anyway, you can see on the grids where we both have study periods and where our classes overlap. And this one here is the class which Evie is attending, thankfully you have free time here.’

‘Wow, you’ve really thought this through,’ she muttered under her breath.

I just about stopped myself from telling her that I definitely hadn’t thought it through at all.

‘This Evie class is tomorrow.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘And you want me to come and meet you afterwards?’

‘Yeah, if that’s still okay.’ I pushed my hands deep into my jogging bottoms suddenly feeling so awkward it was all I could do to drop my head with a pitiful shake. ‘Sorry, I know it’s short notice. I should have texted you this week. I was trying to figure out how this is going to work, especially with your brother.’

‘Huey?’ Her perfectly shaped brows dropped in a frown. ‘What’s he got to do with this?’

‘Um … well, you’re his little sister.’

I’d hoped she’d catch my drift, but her frown only deepened. ‘And?’

‘I haven’t told him we kissed.’ I winced, and checked my watch, cursing Coach. I definitely wasn’t going to have enough time. ‘Look, are you around tonight? I’m so sorry, Coach called us in early and I wanted to have more time to talk. Can you meet me in the Blue Oar, we can go over all the rules of how we’re going to do this?’

‘Rules?’

‘Yeah. Fake Dating Rules.’ I replied, remembering once more about the way she’d slipped her hand in my back pocket. ‘You seemed much more adept last week at how we should behave, but I have a few thoughts we can discuss. Also, it’ll help things with Brooks. I’m sure he won’t care that much about us kissing, because it’s not real or anything, but I still feel like I should have told him. I just can’t figure out how to broach it. Maybe I just need to take a leaf out of your book and use it as an opportunity to brush up on my acting skills. You know, for when I’m filling out my tights.’

I grinned, but it wasn’t a smile which flashed across her face.

‘Of course.’ She nodded slowly. ‘We’re acting. It’s not real. Rules are a great idea. We can make it believable, and I promise you, my brother won’t care.’

‘Great. Thank you, Violet, seriously. I really appreciate you giving up your time for me. And if there’s anything I can do … I can’t get on stage, but I can definitely help learn lines with you.’

She chuckled, ‘You might regret saying that.’

I shook my head, ‘Nope. You can hold me to it. I promise. See you at eight?’

‘Yep, I’ll see you, and let’s not sit so close to the fire this time.’ She grinned.

I bent down to unlock my bike. ‘Deal.’

Sister or not. Real or not. Something about the way Violet was looking at me as I cycled off had my heart beating faster than usual.