Loveless (Osemanverse #10)(82)

‘Mood,’ I said.

‘Love that for us, I guess?’ she asked.

‘Love that for us,’ I agreed.

I got us a second cocktail jug – cosmopolitan – and nachos.

We were halfway through the jug when I told Rooney my plan.

‘I’m going to get Jason and Pip to come back to the Shakespeare Soc,’ I said.

Rooney crushed a particularly cheesy nacho into her mouth. ‘Good luck with that.’

‘You’re welcome to help me.’

‘What’s your plan?’

‘I mean … I haven’t got quite that far yet. There will probably be a lot of apologising involved.’

‘Terrible plan,’ said Rooney, chomping down on another nacho.

‘It’s all I have.’

‘And if it doesn’t work?’

If it didn’t work?

I didn’t know what would happen then.

Maybe that would be it for me, Jason and Pip. Forever.

We finished the nachos – it didn’t take long – and the cocktail jug, before heading towards the pub door, both of us feeling a little bit fuzzy. I was ready to sleep, honestly, but Rooney had fallen into a chatty mood. I was glad. Alcohol and chips definitely weren’t the healthiest solution to her problems, but she seemed a little happier, at least. Job done.

That mood lasted the thirty seconds it took us to get to the door, and then it was gone. Because standing just outside, surrounded by friends, was Pip Quintana herself.

For a brief moment, she didn’t see us. She’d had a hair trim, her curly fringe just meeting her eyebrows, and she was dressed up for a night out – stripy shirt, tight jeans, and a brown aviator jacket that made her look like one of the guys from Top Gun. With the bottle of cider in one hand, it was a look.

I could practically feel the wave of horror spill from Rooney as Pip turned round and saw us.

‘Oh,’ said Pip.

‘Hi,’ I said, having no idea what else to say.

Pip stared at me. Then her eyes flitted to Rooney – from her messy ponytail down to her mismatched bed socks.

‘What, on a date, or something?’ said Pip.

This immediately annoyed me. ‘Clearly we’re not on a date,’ I snapped. ‘I’m wearing joggers.’

‘Whatever. I don’t want to talk to you.’

She started to turn back round but froze as Rooney spoke.

‘You can be mad at me, but don’t be mad at Georgia. She’s done nothing wrong.’

This was absolutely untrue – Pip had heavily implied that she liked Rooney, and then I’d kissed Rooney anyway. Not to mention everything I’d done to Jason. But I appreciated the support.

‘Oh, fuck off with that taking-the-blame shit,’ Pip spat. ‘Since when are you suddenly trying to be a good person?’ She swung round so she could speak right to Rooney’s face. ‘You’re selfish, you’re nasty, and you don’t give a shit about other people’s feelings. So don’t come up to me and try to pretend to be a good person.’

Pip’s friends had all started murmuring, wondering what was going on. Rooney stepped forward, teeth gritted and nostrils flaring like she was about to start shouting, but she didn’t.

She just turned round and walked away down the street.

I stayed still, wondering whether Pip was going to say anything to me. She looked at me for a long moment, and I felt like my brain rushed through the entirety of our past seven years of friendship, every single time we’d sat next to each other in lessons, every sleepover and PE lesson and cinema trip, every time she’d cracked a joke or sent me a stupid meme, every single time I’d almost cried in front of her – didn’t, couldn’t, but almost.

‘I just can’t believe,’ she said, through an exhale. ‘I thought – I thought you cared about my feelings.’

Then she turned away too, rejoining a conversation with her new friends, and all of those memories smashed around me into tiny pieces.





Rooney spent the whole walk back to college tapping away on her phone. I didn’t know who she was messaging, but when we got to our room, she quickly changed into a nicer outfit and I knew she was going out.

‘Don’t,’ I said, just as she reached the door, and she stopped, and turned round to face me.

‘You know what I’ve learnt?’ she said. ‘Love ruins everything.’

I didn’t agree, but I didn’t know how to argue with a statement like that. So she left and I just said nothing. And when I walked towards my bed, I found the photo of Mermaid-hair Beth on the floor again, partially crumpled like Rooney had ripped it off the wall.





I went to Pride Soc’s January social at the Student Union alone. It was our third week of term, and I tried to lure Rooney into coming with me, but she’d been spending most nights out in town clubbing, returning around 3 a.m. with dirty shoes and messed-up hair. It was up to me to find Pip and there was a chance she’d be at a Pride Soc event.

If I could just talk to her, I figured, she would understand. If I could just get her to listen to me for long enough to explain, then everything would be OK again.

The instant regret I felt upon showing up to the social was almost enough to send me running right back to college. We were in the biggest room in the Student Union. At the head of the room was a projector screen displaying all of Pride Soc’s upcoming events for the term. Music was playing, people were dressed casually, gathered in circles or sitting at tables to chat and catch up over some snacks.