Loveless (Osemanverse #10)(99)

The way she said it – light and casual – I could have easily mistaken it for a joke. But because I understood Rooney on a slightly deeper level by this point, I knew she wasn’t joking at all.

‘Dude,’ I said. ‘I’m the one who can’t fall in love. I think you just don’t want to.’

She made a ‘harrumph’ noise.

‘Well?’ I asked. ‘Are you aromantic?’

‘No,’ she grumbled.

‘There. So stop erasing my identity and tell Pip you like her.’

‘Don’t use your identity to make me admit my feelings.’

‘I can and I will.’

‘Did you see her bedhead?’ Rooney mumbled into her pillow.

‘Er, yes?’

‘She looked so fluffy.’

‘She’d probably murder you if you called her fluffy.’

‘I bet she smells really nice.’

‘She does.’

‘Fuck you.’

We were interrupted by notification sounds from both of our phones.

A message in our Shakespeare Soc group chat. The one that hadn’t been used since before the new year – ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dab’.

Felipa Quintana

Forgot to say—

I would like to rejoin the Shakespeare Soc

If you’ll have me

I can learn my lines in two weeks!!!

We lay there on the bed, reading the messages at the same time.

‘We’re doing the play,’ said Rooney breathlessly.

I didn’t know whether she was thrilled or terrified.

‘Are you OK with that?’ I asked. I thought this was what she’d wanted. She’d been devastated when Pip and Jason had left and the society crumbled. It had sent her spiralling for weeks.

Rooney was so good at pretending she was fine. Even now I sometimes failed to spot when she was spiralling. And after her breakdown the other night, and the situation with Pip, and all of the feelings I knew she was fighting, and the ones I was still dealing with too …

Were we going to be OK?

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know.’





‘Against my will,’ Pip said, rolling her eyes while leaning against a pillar that I had spent a whole morning crafting out of cardboard and papier maché, ‘I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.’

Rooney was lounging on a chair, centre-stage. ‘Fair Beatrice,’ she said, standing up with a flirty expression. ‘I thank you for your pains.’

We had ten days until the play.

This was definitely not enough time to finish staging all of the scenes, learn all of our lines, and prepare costumes and set. But we were trying anyway.

Pip’s expression remained unbothered. ‘I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.’

Rooney stepped closer, slotting her hands into her pockets and smirking down at Pip. ‘You take pleasure then in the message?’

Before today’s rehearsal, Rooney had spent a solid twenty minutes changing outfits and doing her hair before I straight-up asked, ‘Is this about Pip?’

She denied it loudly and at length, before saying, ‘Yes. Fine. What do I do?’

It had taken me a moment to realise that she was asking for my help. With romance.

Just as I had done all those months ago in Freshers’ Week.

‘Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point and choke a daw withal,’ Pip scoffed back, folding her arms. ‘You have no stomach, signor: fare you well.’ And then she turned and whisked off stage.

Me, Jason and Sunil clapped.

‘That was good!’ Pip said, a smile on her face. ‘That was good, right? And I didn’t forget the choke a daw bit.’

‘You were OK,’ said Rooney, eyebrows raised.

I had given Rooney all the advice I could think to give. Be yourself. Talk to her. Maybe try saying nice things sometimes.

Well, she was trying, at least.

‘That means a lot coming from you,’ said Pip, and Rooney turned away so we couldn’t see her expression.

Five days before the play, we ran through the entire thing. We messed up several cues, Jason smacked his head on the top of the paper-maché pillar, and I completely blanked my final speech from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but eventually we made it to the end, and it wasn’t a complete disaster.

‘We actually did it,’ said Pip, her eyes wide as we all finished clapping each other. ‘Like, we might possibly pull this off.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Rooney scoffed. ‘I am actually a good director.’

‘Excuse me, we are co-directors. I get some of the credit.’

‘No. Incorrect. I removed your directorship when you decided to abandon us for two months.’

Pip’s mouth dropped open, and she whipped her head round to me to see my reaction. ‘Is she allowed to joke about that yet? Surely we’re not at the point where we can joke about our feud yet.’

‘I can joke about what I want,’ said Rooney.

I was busy stacking chairs. ‘I’m not getting involved,’ I said.

‘No,’ said Pip, turning back to Rooney. ‘I refute this. I want my co-directorship back.’