I watch as Nate exhales unsteadily. He’s in so much pain, he’s literally seconds away from losing it, sobbing uncontrollably, I can tell, and I can’t let this carry on. I crash down to my left, water splashing everywhere. “Oh! Ahhh!” I shout. “Oh my god, sorry – dizzy!”
“Are you OK?” Josie says.
“Should we call someone?” Abi asks.
“No,” I say. “It comes and goes sometimes, I’m not sure what it… I just need Nate – I’m sorry – sorry to put a downer on all this…”
Nate looks utterly confused as I lean weakly on him, and he helps me out of the tub, puts a towel around my shoulders, and we both hobble back towards our cabin.
“I’m so sorry, ladies!” I call back to them. “I’m OK, I’ll be fine, just need…” We’re by the door to our cabin. “I just need to rest, and then … oh!”
Nate bundles me inside and once the door is closed, I straighten up and slide the bolt.
He just stares at me.
“I just thought you needed to get out of there,” I tell him.
His face darkens. “I can look after myself.”
“I know, but—”
“Don’t need your help,” he mutters.
“OK. Sorry!” My stomach knots as I realize I’ve somehow done the wrong thing again and upset him. I swallow and gesture to the door. “Go back, if you like.”
He stares at me, mouth clamped tightly shut.
And then he walks into his bedroom and slams the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
NATE
We’re back in the camper van, heading nowhere fast because of constant traffic jams, and I haven’t said a word to Jack since last night.
Sure, I didn’t want that conversation with the girls, but I don’t need Jack assuming he has to get me out of there, like he knows me so well, when actually he doesn’t. Just like he assumes he knows the reason we stopped talking in year nine, when actually he doesn’t. Like he assumes I’d wanted to be outed in front of the girls with his stupid “kissed someone of the same sex” question, when all I want is to go back to my quiet life, keep myself to myself, because honestly, that’s the best way. That’s safest.
If it wasn’t for something else, I’d be calling this whole thing off.
I messaged Tariq last night.
I know, I know.
But I was feeling angry with Jack; we were both just shut in our rooms, not talking, and I was generally confused and upset, and just wanted to see how he was.
The WhatsApp message is showing two blue ticks.
He’s seen it.
He has not replied.
I mean, in the circumstances, that’s a big “fuck you”. That’s a “hey, look, I’m with someone else now and you are no longer a priority in terms of responding to messages”. So, I don’t know where that leaves me, except I’m going to double down on this whole Instagram thing because what else have I got and also … how dare he? How dare he rub it in with his pics of infinity pools and not return my message? Did I really mean that little to him?
Jack’s just acting like everything’s cool – but he must have noticed I’m barely talking to him. “So, the hot tub pic went down a storm,” he says to me. “It’s an absolutely mint photo – looks really glamorous – laughter, bubbles, hot teens in a hot tub!”
“Good.” At least that’s something. I hope Tariq’s seen it. I hope I was laughing in the picture. It’s unlikely, but I hope it.
“Just one problem,” Jack continues.
“Uh-huh?”
“Someone reported it as being in violation of community guidelines.”
“What?” I squeal. “Why?”
Jack shrugs. “Literally. No idea. I mean, sure, you’re shirtless in it, but I hardly think your underage nipples would be considered ‘inappropriate content’.”
“There’s nothing inappropriate about my nipples,” I mutter. “What’s the betting it’s Dylan’s doing?”
“Or Tariq’s?” Jack suggests.
“Either way, you should report their shot in the infinity pool.”
Jack nods. “One step ahead of you. Did it while you were in the shower. I’m pretty sure if you squint you can see a highly suspect bulge in Dylan’s swimming shorts.”
I manage the smallest of smiles.
He’s still staring at me like there’s more.
I grit my teeth. “What now?”
“Dylan and Tariq went to a huge concert last night – Wembley, no less. Looks like a VIP box too.”
I sniff. “Good for them.”
“Apparently they’re ‘living their best lives’ and are ‘blessed’.”
Well, of course they are, because they’ve got money and freedom, and more importantly, each other. I keep going over in my head where I went wrong. What did I do, or not do, that made Tariq want to get with Dylan? I know Dylan’s better-looking than me, and I know he’s charismatic and confident, but I thought, I really thought, that Tariq liked me for me, and that maybe not being those things didn’t matter to him.
“Nate?” Jack says softly. “Are you OK?”
“I thought I was,” I reply.
The traffic gets no better, we’re hours away from where we’re meant to be, so by early evening, somewhere south of Manchester, Mum and Dad have given in and booked rooms in a motorway Travel Inn for the night – them and Rose in one room, me and Jack in another.
“We need two single beds,” I tell the lady at reception.
She shakes her head. “We only do doubles, but some of the rooms have sofa beds you can sleep on too.” She taps at her computer. “They’ve all been taken now, sorry.”
I look at my parents. “There are no beds.”
“There’s a perfectly good double!” Dad replies.
“They’re actually king size, so plenty of space!” The lady at reception smiles. “Plus, it’s fun!”
I stare at her. “What’s ‘fun’?!”
“Bunking up with your mate for the night!” She smiles again, like we’re the Famous Five. “Sleepover style!”
I can’t stop staring. What the hell is she
