‘Yeah, but what?’
‘I mean what happened. Sexually.’ There. That’s as close as she can get.
Scott looks down, embarrassed. ‘Christ,’ he says softly. ‘Did that really upset you?’ Then, ‘Is that what you want to talk about? Now? Look, I don’t remember everything. We were pretty fucked up.’
She nods, unable to trust herself to say anything more. There are tears in her eyes, and she lets them gather there, blurring her view, before she wipes them across her cheeks. She feels make-up stinging the inside rims of her eyes and knows it will have smudged coal black across her face, making her look polluted and messy and out of control.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘Well … I did actually think about it afterwards and I felt bad about it.’
‘Bad about what, Scott?’ Say it. Say it to my face.
‘We’d kissed for what, like, a few seconds or something? And then I went straight to trying to get into your pants. I opened your jeans and I was going to put my hand down there but then you obviously didn’t want to, so I stopped. I’m really sorry if it upset you. I was just … To tell you the truth, I just wanted to do it so I could say I’d done it. I didn’t even really want to.’ He looks at her, concerned. ‘Can I get you some water? You don’t look good.’
‘Keep talking.’ She can taste something sour in her mouth. It is bile rising from deep inside her, or it is something bitter that has been in the membranes of her mouth for as long as she can remember that releases itself now that she is biting down hard.
‘Um … then we did a pill each and things got really messy. I mean, they were really strong. I got them off my sister’s dealer. I hadn’t done one of those before. It was fun, but then we both got sort of spaced-out. I think you were quite pissed when we started? I don’t know. It seemed to hit you a bit harder.’
‘And then what?’
‘I don’t know. We hung out in there for ages. And the rest of the party went downstairs. I think Amy kicked everyone out of the bedrooms but she didn’t find us so we were like … own private Narnia. We had fun.’ He reaches for her hand and she flinches back. ‘I am so sorry if I crossed a line, doing what I did.’
‘And then what?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tell me everything that happened.’
‘You basically passed out. I think mostly from the booze. I was still up and quite awake. And then I needed to go home so I was like, do I leave you there on the floor or what? So I put you in the bed in the main room.’
‘Don’t miss things out. Did you take off my clothes?’
‘Becky, what—’
‘Come on.’
‘Yes, I took off your jeans so you’d be more comfortable. I tucked you in. I think I put you in the recovery position in case you threw up. And then I went downstairs. I had a bit of a dance and a smoke and then I just started to feel a bit wrecked so I went back to Bento’s house with him. His parents were away in their cottage so we could just chill all day.’
‘Is that it?’
‘That is literally everything. And can you please tell me what this is about now, because you’re really worrying me.’
Her heartbeat is pounding in her ears. He is so smooth. So convincing. Making out like unbuttoning her jeans was the worst thing he’d ever done. Apologizing for that! He’s just like Matthew, she thinks. Making her doubt everything except him. Has he forgotten his confession? Can he possibly think she has forgotten it?
‘On my last day at that school I came and found you. I said something to you. Do you remember that?’ spits Becky.
‘Yes.’
‘What did I say to you?’
‘You told me that you knew about me and I begged you not to tell anyone,’ says Scott. ‘And so far as I know, you never did. I don’t know why you said it to me. I’ve wanted to ask you that.’
‘I told you that I knew!’ She is louder now.
His face is pale, blank, there is no flicker, so shine, no register, no nothing.
How dare he! She wants to smash the bones beneath his skin, and make black and purple bruising inside him, to make him sting and break and cry and fucking die the same way she did.
The pretence of good humour has burnt off him now and his words are chopped and sharp. ‘OK, I think maybe we’re done. Nice seeing you again.’
‘Stop fucking with me!’ Her grip tightens now, curling round the scissors, pressing deep now.
‘Jesus.’ He turns away from her. She realizes that he’s going for the door. She jumps up and puts her body in his way.
‘You bastard!’ She is weeping now. She tries to hit him. He catches her wrists. He works out three times a week. He easily grips her. ‘You fucking bastard! How could you do that to me?’
‘Do what? Do what?’
She thrashes to get at him, to beat and punish him.
‘You admitted it! You asked me not to tell anyone!’
‘I know!’
‘So say it!’
‘That I’m gay? What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand!’
The wind goes out of her. She crumples, her wrists still gripped by him, so that for a moment she hangs like a broken marionette, arms aloft, head hanging down. Thick wrenching sobs.
She expects him to step over her and call the police. But instead he lowers her to the floor, crouches down with her.
‘Becky, please, tell me what you’re trying to say.’
She can’t speak. A low moan tunnels out of her.
‘Becky?’ He gently lifts her up, so that they are face to face. There are tears in his eyes. ‘I thought maybe I said something to you that night? Or that maybe you figured out because I was happy to stop trying to do
