The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) (18 page)

“Yes, you can. You have to. I can’t take it back. Big Baz was planning a holiday.”

He smiles a little at this. “It is way too much, Lilah.”

He says my name low and my stomach stabs with longing, despite our activities of the last hour.

“Well, look at it this way: When you make that cracking album later this year, you will be able to think of me whilst you’re doing it.”

He stares at me. “I would have been thinking of you anyway.”

He gently places the guitar on the floor then reaches for me again, hands just as gentle with me as they were with the guitar. Looks like we will need that breakfast tomorrow after all.

Taylor is crooning "Safe and Sound." And that’s kind of how I feel as I sit here watching him sleep. Safe and Sound. It’s not real, I know that, but it feels good all the same.

14th January

“Give me one more day.”

“Mmm, that’s not what we agreed.”

“I will exchange anything for just one more day. Please.”

The nibbling on my ear is doing little to strengthen my already paper-thin resistance. “A life time of servitude?” I ask.

“Done.”

“Okay, I am going to the gym. I shall expect breakfast when I get back.”

“You’re completely mental.”

“Yep, I must be.”

7.00 a.m.

The Gym

8.00 a.m.

Home

What am I doing?

It is halfway through January. In six months, Ben leaves.

When he goes, it is going to be worse than the few weeks we experienced of being apart. It is going to be permanent and forever and it is going to kill me. Not literally. I know I will physically survive. But I also know that I will never find anyone like him ever again.

What am I going to do with myself? What the hell am I going to do with a history degree and no real plans of what to use it for? I cannot see any exciting opportunities that I would ever want without him around to share them with me.

I may as well go back to the bank and just die a death of boredom there.

How much is it going to hurt when he leaves?

It’s gonna be bad, there are no two ways about it. Should I just give in and take what I can for the short time available? Or should I cut my losses now?

How am I going to feel when he is in a different country with lots of skinny girls dressed in black lacy underwear?

I am sure that all skinny American girls prance about in skimpy black underwear all day long.

The thought makes me want to throw up.

4.00 p.m.

We are in the library. I am actually kind of into my study, and for once it is books I am studying.

I know I am being watched in the window. Every so often I get a tap on the foot and look up to see Ben’s reflection grinning at me like a demented person.

Ben had not wanted to go to the library. He wanted to go home, or to the pub. He had wanted to go anywhere where we could talk (and by this I think he meant touch) without having two wooden shelves blocking the way.

Moody Chops sulked the whole way here, lingering on his cigarette outside in the cold sleet just so he could hold my hand a little longer. Meredith had seen the sleet and run screaming back to the Dorm with her folder on her head shouting something about her hair.

“What were those girls talking to you about that one Sunday up here?” I’m not sure why I decide to ask this, but I have. I meet his blue eyes in the window. He knows exactly what Sunday I am talking about.

“She was asking me Dave’s name and if I would give her his number or vice versa.” He grins at me.

“Really?”

“Really.”

My cheeks burn a furious red when I think of the almighty strop I threw, resulting in the nightmare haircut. If I’d just had the guts to walk up to them and join in their conversation, then the misunderstanding would never have happened. But then I remember my legs were not working, so what would I have done, crawled over?

Bugger it. Why am I sitting here wasting time looking at these books?

“Sod it, let’s go,” I announce. I hear him give a little ‘yes,’ under his breath, which he thinks I can’t hear.

“Come on, Romeo, you’ve got six hours left!”

“What? No bloody way! You owe me an all-nighter for dragging me to the library!

When we finally get down the nightmare stairs and out the door, it is snowing quite hard. The whole of the campus is covered in a white blanket. Everyone is running to get out of the mammoth white flurry but we just grin at each other and grab hands, walking slowly in the snowy downpour, snowflakes landing on our tongues and eyelashes.

It is pretty frickin’ romantic and something I will never forget.

11.45 p.m.

“Tell me something,” Ben says.

“Tell you what?” I ask, curious.

“Tell me your favourite thing in the whole world,” he says.

His arm is around me snug and warm. We are lying in bed with the curtains open, watching the snow fall. Which it is. A lot.

“The blue sky on a summer day. Not near the sun where it is pale and weak but the opposite side of the horizon where it is dark like cornflowers and never-ending.”

Like your eyes,
I want to add, but don’t.

Silence.

“Tell me yours.”

“Thunder and rain storms on a hot summer day. There is nothing better than standing in the warm rain.”

Silence.

“Give me one more day.”

15th January

It's a snow day. Whoop, Whoop!

Okay, we live on campus, so we could have made it across. But where is the fun in that? Instead, we hike (laughing at our inappropriate footwear) to a local pub, where they have crackling fires and deep leather sofas.

“Favourite book?” Ben asks, watching me over the top of his glass.

“You already know that.”

“No, I don’t. I just know that it has a bit set in Lyme Regis.”

How does he remember that? It was months ago.

“
Persuasion
, by Jane Austen.”

“Ugh, Austen. Why?”

“How dare you say ‘Ugh’, to Austen!”

Bloody Philistine!

“Seriously, why is it your favourite?” he prods.

I have to think this through. It has been my favourite novel forever, yet I find it deeply traumatic to read.

“I think it is because I like the fact the characters are forced apart, mainly by their own mistakes and stupidity, but at the end when it matters, they are able to see each other for what they are and admit that they still love each other. In fact, they probably love each other more for the seven years they have spent apart. His feelings never faltered for her. She just didn’t believe in them enough.”

He sits there, the blues staring at me. I feel completely exposed. I have said too much.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“But Anne is a complete idiot for listening to her friend in the first place. She was lucky old Wentworth gave her another chance. Lady Russell was a bitch!” he continues with a growing smirk.

“What? You’ve read it? And you let me do all that explaining. You complete git!”

I swat him with my hand, and he giggles into his pint of beer.

“Of course I have read it,” he says. “It’s a classic.”

“You astound me sometimes.” I mean it.

“Good.”

The blues crinkle.

We both giggle into our drinks.

“So what’s your favourite?” I ask.

“
Chances
by Jackie Collins,” he says, deadpan.

I spurt my spritzer all over the table. “Wanker!”

Cue more giggling accompanied by the sound of crackling firewood.

16th January

9.30 a.m.

Another snow day. I have not bothered getting up. What would be the point of pretending I am going to make it to class?

I slept in my own room last night. It was all getting a bit too easy. I could feel myself slipping under deeper and deeper. He gave in with good grace, eyes flashing and lips giving a slight curve as he kissed me goodnight. A kiss determined to make me stay.

No gym due to the roads being a nightmare, so I shall be studying instead.

11.30 a.m.

Ah, the door. Hopefully it will be Ben looking for more snow day action.

Later.

“Hey, you. I haven't seen you in ages!” I say to Meredith as she enters through my door. I feel my cheeks warm a little. I have been so involved in the little 'Let’s Pretend' days that I have not really had time to see my bestie as much as I would like, a fact I regret enormously.

“It’s okay,” she says, slumping onto the bed next to me. “I completely get it,” she adds quickly, patting me on the leg.

I frown at her. She seems a bit off. Not quite herself, but then I figure maybe she is annoyed after all at me not being around. I’m just about to ask when she blurts out, “I’m late!” Her voice is nervous and tight.

“Late for what?” I ask. She doesn’t appear to be in a hurry to go anywhere.

She raises an eyebrow, and the penny drops with a resonating clang.

Oh
.

For the longest moment I stare at her in silent shock. I can’t think what to do or say. This is a problem for a grown-up, which I am not.

“Have you taken a test?”

She nods her head in confirmation, the smallest of gestures and it completely breaks my heart.

I have no words to say, so I just put my arm around her and pull her in towards me as she starts to sob hysterically. That hitched, snotty crying that people do when they finally let it go. Snot bubbles and everything.

I am pretty close to creating some snot bubbles of my own.

“Don’t tell him, will you?” She wipes her nose on her sleeve.

It’s gross, but I let it go under the circumstances. “Who? Ben?

Obsessed much. He is the first person I think of regardless of the circumstances.

“No! Tristan.”

“Um, I think he might notice.”

“I need some time to think first.”

I pause for a moment. It’s a big secret to keep from my brother, but then I know where my priorities are.

“Of course I won’t tell. You are my best friend.”

She cries even harder and I just hold her tighter. Soon the practical part of my brain kicks in.

“Surely you were using something?” I feel a bit awkward talking about her having sex with my brother, but I guess it is out there that they do. Best be grown-up about it.

“We have been, but that night at Christmas we were so drunk, I think we just . . .  just . . .  just sort of forgot.”

Oh.

“He is going to hate me.”

More sobbing.

“He’s not going to hate you. He’s going to be worried about you. You’re very young.”

I don’t think this is the right thing to say. Her sobs get even louder.

“I love him, I just didn’t expect this.”

I rock her a little.

“I know you do, babe. Don’t worry. We'll get this all sorted.”

This is the wrong thing to say again. She pushes against me so she can look at me, snot everywhere.

“I am not getting rid of it,” she declares, voice determined, red eyes glaring.

“God, Meredith! I would never suggest that to you—ever.”

She looks appeased and snuggles back down against me.

I spend the next hour smoothing her hair as she lays there giving in to the odd uncontrollable sob. Ben pokes his head in the door but I shake my head at him and shoo him away.

Finally, she is asleep and I ease myself away from her. When I get up, I am all hot and sweaty from where she has made me clammy with her tears. I cover her up with my duvet and find myself biting back the tears as I look at her.

This is a nightmare and not at all what I was expecting.

It turns out I can keep secrets, just not from Ben.

I walk straight through the door of Ben’s room. I don’t even hesitate, even though last time I had gone barging in, there had been a half-naked girl to greet me.

The moment I am through the door the tears start. He is sitting cross-legged on his bed wearing just sweat pants and an old T-shirt, his new guitar across his lap. I need him right now like I never knew was possible. I walk towards him. It feels like I am in slow motion even though it is just four short steps. The guitar is down and I crash into his arms sobbing nearly as hard and loud as Meredith.

“Has someone died?”

It’s the first question a man would ask.

“They may as well have,” I snot back through my tears.

He waits whilst I catch my breath, and then I tell him. He looks at me in complete shock and tightens his arms around me.

I curl up in a ball and he fits himself around me like a protective shell. I snuggle into his worn T-shirt that smells of softener and cigarettes. It smells like him.