Loveless (Osemanverse #10)(61)

The whole idea that people always grew up, fell in love and got married was a complete lie. How long would it take me to accept that?

‘I’m nineteen,’ she said.

I frowned. ‘Wait, are you? Did you have a gap year?’

‘No. It was my birthday last week.’

This confused me more. ‘What? When?’

‘Last Thursday.’

Last Thursday. I could barely remember anything about it – uni days were all blurring into one endless stream of lectures and meals and sleep.

‘You … didn’t say anything,’ I said.

‘No.’ She laughed, partly muffled by her pillow. ‘I started thinking what would happen if people knew it was my birthday. I’d just end up going on another night out with a bunch of people I really don’t know that well, and they’d all pretend to be my friend and sing happy birthday and take fake-happy selfies for Instagram before we’d all separate and hook up with different people, and I’d just end up in some stranger’s bed after having below-average sex, hating myself again.’

‘If you’d told me, we could have done … none of that.’

She smiled. ‘What would we have done?’

‘I dunno. Sat in here and eaten pizza. I could have forced you to watch Bridesmaids.’

She snorted. ‘That’s a shit movie.’

‘It’s not the best, but the romance is literal perfection. They sit on a car and eat carrot sticks together.’

‘The dream.’

We lay there in silence for a little while.

‘You … don’t like having casual sex any more,’ I said, realising what she’d been trying to say earlier. It wasn’t that casual sex had hurt her, or that it made her a bad person – it didn’t. ‘You want …’ It wasn’t even that she wanted a relationship. Not really. She wanted what a relationship would give her.

‘You want someone to know you,’ I said.

She stayed silent for a moment. I waited for her to tell me how wrong I was.

Instead, she said, ‘I’m just lonely. I’m just so lonely all the time.’

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I didn’t need to, because she fell asleep a few minutes later. I looked over her head and saw that Roderick had significantly wilted – Rooney was definitely forgetting to water him. I stared up at the ceiling and listened to her breathing next to me, but I didn’t want to leave the bed, because even though I couldn’t sleep, and I was paranoid about drooling on her or rolling on top of her by accident, Rooney needed me for some reason. Maybe because, despite all of her friends and acquaintances, nobody really knew her like I did.





Jason still showed up to our next Shakespeare Soc rehearsal the following week.

I didn’t think he would. I had messaged him to apologise again, to try and explain, even though I was shit at articulating any of my thoughts and feelings.

He’d read it but didn’t reply.

I spent most of my lectures that week zoned out, not taking enough notes, wondering how I was going to salvage our friendship out of the chaos I’d created. Jason liked me romantically. I’d taken advantage of that to figure out my sexual identity, despite knowing I didn’t like him like that in return. Selfish. I was so selfish.

He looked exhausted when he rolled up to our rehearsal in full rowing club kit, a heavy rucksack hanging off his shoulder. His teddy jacket was absent. I was so used to him wearing it that he seemed sort of vulnerable without it.

He walked straight past me, without looking at me, mouth clamped shut, and sat down next to Pip, who was going over today’s scene.

Sunil arrived moments later. He was wearing checked trousers with a black shearling jacket and a beanie.

He took one look at Jason and said, ‘You look exhausted.’

Jason grunted. ‘Rowing.’

‘Oh, yes. How are the six a.m. practices?’

‘Freezing and wet.’

‘You could quit,’ said Pip. She seemed a little hopeful at the prospect.

Jason shook his head. ‘Nah, I do enjoy it. I’ve made a lot of friends there.’ He shot a quick glance at me. ‘It’s just been a lot.’

I turned away. There was no way to make this better.

In true Jason tradition, he was assigned the role of a stern older man. This time it was Duke Orsino from Twelfth Night, another of Shakespeare’s romcoms.

The premise of Twelfth Night is a big, messy love triangle. Viola is shipwrecked in the land of Illyria and, since she has no money, disguises herself as a boy called Cesario so that she can get a job as a servant to Duke Orsino. The duke is in love with a noble lady of Illyria, Olivia, so he sends Viola to express his love for her. Unfortunately, instead of accepting the duke’s feelings, Olivia falls in love with Viola, who is disguised as Cesario, a guy. And, doubly unfortunate, Viola falls in love with the duke. It’s not technically gay, but let’s be real: this play is very, very gay.

Sunil had already volunteered to be Viola, saying, ‘Just give me all of the roles that mess around with gender, please.’

Pip and I huddled next to each other against the wall with my coat over our legs. It was freezing cold in our giant rehearsal room today.

‘You two run through the scene,’ said Rooney. ‘I need to go and get some tea or I will actually die.’