Defy the Stars, Page 3

  ‘You look the same, only older,’ I said.

  Flynn laughed.

  The dark-haired bridesmaid appeared out of nowhere. She handed Flynn a small make-up bag.

  ‘Look after this, will you, we’re doing photos?’

  ‘Sure. Hey, Izzy, this is River.’

  Izzy smiled at me, clearly distracted. ‘Hey,’ she said.

  She turned away. My whole being filled with jealousy again. So much for imagining I’d be able to chat easily and happily with Flynn’s new girlfriend. I wanted to weep. All the feelings I’d thought I had buried were rearing up again, consuming me: jealousy . . . desire . . . love . . .

  ‘Is that your . . . ?’

  ‘No.’ Flynn’s eyes widened. ‘No way. Izzy’s one of Siob’s oldest friends. I’ve known her since I was a little kid. I don’t have a girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh.’ My heart leaped with joy, then with shame at the fact that I was so pleased. I could feel myself blushing. I chattered on, trying to cover my confusion.

  ‘Oh, I see. It’s just . . . um . . . in Siobhan’s note about the wedding she said you were coming with a friend?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s Cody.’ Flynn indicated a tall, straight-backed boy with spiky, pale brown hair, charting to two girls a few metres away. ‘He’s . . . we kind of work together.’

  ‘Doing what?’ It felt surreal to be asking Flynn such questions but in the back of my mind I was thinking that it was good we were talking like this. Small talk. It was how we needed to be now. There would be this short conversation, then I would go. And that would be that.

  Flynn waved his hand. ‘Stuff,’ he said. ‘Work’s boring. Tell me about you. How’s the commune? Your dad? Gemma? I heard they’re having a baby.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘In a few weeks.’

  ‘What about Leo?’ Flynn’s face darkened slightly.

  ‘He’s fine,’ I said. ‘Everyone’s fine.’ There was a pause. ‘I’m busy at school. I help out at the commune, work most Saturdays in Norton at a café.’

  There was another pause. Flynn stared down at me. His presence was like a second sun, pulling me towards him, into his orbit. Dangerous. Magnetic. Powerful. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Er, I saw who you were with in the church.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘You and Michael Greene? Seriously?’

  ‘Michael’s nice.’ I raised my eyebrows.

  Flynn laughed. At that moment Caitlin came running up. She tugged at Flynn’s sleeve.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged him. ‘You’re needed for the photos.’ She glanced around at me. ‘Oh, hi, River.’

  ‘Hi.’ I smiled at her.

  Flynn rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he said. He looked into me, his eyes sparkling green. ‘Will you wait?’

  I couldn’t speak. Too many emotions were crowding my head.

  I nodded. Yes.

  Flynn turned and sauntered away. I leaned against the brick wall of the church, the sun fierce on my face. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry. The whole world looked different, like everything had shifted a few centimetres making it all brighter, sharper, more alive.

  Michael strolled up, smiling. ‘There’s a swallow’s nest in the back bit of the church. It’s up high but you can see the baby birds peeking out. I think they’re getting ready to fly.’

  I stared at him. His eyes suddenly registered alarm.

  ‘River, you look really pale. I’m so sorry, I forgot you said you weren’t feeling well. Did you call your dad?’

  I shook my head. I peered over to the huddle of people crowded around the photographs. Laughter echoed towards us across the grass.

  I had to go.

  I shoved my phone at Michael. ‘He’s under “Dad” in my contacts list. Would you call him while I tell someone we’re leaving? Tell him not to worry. I just have an upset tummy. It’s nothing serious.’

  Michael nodded. As he made the call I headed across the yard to the boy with the pale brown hair Flynn had described as his friend. He was watching the photo session taking place on the grass.

  ‘Hi, are you Cody?’ I said

  The boy nodded. He was tall with grey eyes. He looked nothing like Flynn, though there was a similar intensity in his expression. He gazed down at me. I shivered. There was something cold and calculating about his pale eyes.

  ‘I’m River,’ I said, feeling the familiar stab of embarrassment at having to say my unusual name out loud.

  Cody raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah,’ he said. He looked me up and down. ‘River, with an R?’

  ‘Er, yes.’ I flushed, feeling like a bug under a microscope. Why was he asking me that? ‘I have to go. Will you make sure Flynn’s mum and sister get the message. Say I’m really sorry to rush off. I’m . . . er . . .’ My blush deepened. ‘I’m not feeling well.’

  ‘I see,’ Cody said. A smile twisted about his lips. I could tell he didn’t really believe I was ill.

  ‘Bye.’ I turned, feeling awkward. I walked away, on to the pavement.

  One step after another, to take me away from Flynn.

  I had to keep walking, I could see that now. Seeing him just brought back all the old feelings.

  And I wasn’t going back to those.

  They’d nearly killed me once. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  4

  Michael caught up with me halfway along the road. He said Dad was on his way, then insisted that as I still looked very pale we should find somewhere to sit down. I wanted to put a few streets between myself and the church, so I made him keep walking past two roads of houses and beyond the High Street, until we came to a children’s playground.

  I sat on a bench while Michael called Dad again to tell him exactly where we were. The playground was full of little kids, running about and playing on the swings and in the sand pit. I sat back, closing my eyes, letting the sun warm my face.

  I couldn’t believe how much seeing Flynn had affected me.

  Michael finished speaking to Dad and went to fetch us ice creams from the nearby van. I felt too sick to eat mine, so Michael had both. I apologised for taking him away from the wedding so early. He said he didn’t mind. We fell silent. I didn’t want to speak. My head was still spinning, full of Flynn.

  Dad arrived within twenty minutes. He must have driven fast to have got here so quickly.

  ‘River, are you all right?’ he asked, his eyes frantic with worry as Michael and I reached the car.

  I reassured him I was fine, that it was just a tummy ache, that yes, I’d seen Flynn but we’d only exchanged a few words. Clearly relieved, Dad dropped Michael off and drove home.

  I made a huge effort once we were back at the commune to behave normally, simply saying I didn’t feel like eating. But when I went to bed that night my thoughts were, still, all of Flynn. I hadn’t dreamed of him in ages but that night he paraded through my unconscious for hours, watching me, circling me, getting closer and closer – but never quite reaching me. The sense of loss, when I woke at dawn, was overpowering. I buried my face in my pillow and howled with the pain of it.

  Crying helped. Once the sun was out and I was up, I felt better. It had been a shock to see Flynn, but surely the next time – if there was a next time – it would be easier.

  Grace called and I told her that being near Flynn had been harder than I’d expected but that finally, after all the long months since our break-up, I was certain the relationship was fully in the past. I was exaggerating the level of closure I felt which made me uncomfortable – I didn’t like not being totally honest with my friend – but I was embarrassed by how badly I’d been affected by those few minutes with Flynn. Anyway, I reasoned, it would do no good to tell Grace the unvarnished truth. She would only worry. Better to make her believe that Flynn and I were properly, conclusively over at last.

  Maybe if I kept telling people that, I might start to believe it myself.

  I tried to convince Leo I was fine too, but with less success. I kept away from him as long as I cou
ld, but he found me down in the apple orchard on Sunday afternoon and forced the truth out of me.

  ‘It upset you seeing him, didn’t it?’ he kept insisting.

  I denied it for several minutes, then finally admitted the whole encounter hadn’t been easy but that I didn’t want to talk about it. Leo left, looking miserable, and we hardly spoke for the rest of the week.

  I took my final exam on Thursday and tried to forget about seeing Flynn. I had a busy life, I kept telling myself, full of things that weren’t connected with him: my exams had gone okay, I had a social life with the handful of girls I hung out with from college and I enjoyed my waitressing job. Plus there was Grace and Dad and Gemma and my life at the commune. All these relationships and routines were important, they gave my life structure and meaning and I clung to them as the memories of my life with Flynn washed miserably over me again and again.

  I made a big effort to talk to everyone at the commune as normal, listening to Dad and John’s chat about dealing with the upcoming ‘June drop’ in the apple orchard, buying a few last-minute baby clothes with Gemma and making plans with Ros to try out some new bread recipes.

  The result of all this effort was that I turned up for work at the café the following Saturday feeling like seeing Flynn had been a dream. The Rainbow Café in Norton was always busy – popular with mums during the week and families having tea out at the weekend. This Saturday was no exception. I rushed around, ferrying cakes and scones to various tables, fetching high chairs and sweeping up broken biscuits. The couple who ran the café were nice enough – though not like the lady I had worked for in London.

  My shift finished at five p.m. and I was standing at the till with Mrs Anderson, the owner. She had just given me my wages when the door banged open. Flynn stood in the doorway. His hair, so carefully slicked back last week, fell messily over his face and he was out of breath, panting, as if he’d been running. He saw me and his whole face relaxed with relief.

  We stared at each other for a few seconds.

  ‘Do you know that young man, River?’ Mrs Anderson asked suspiciously.

  ‘Er, yes.’ My cheeks burned as I scuttled across the café, past all the watching customers. I reached Flynn, still standing in the doorway. A breeze was whipping inside, fluttering the cloth on the nearest table.

  ‘Are you coming in or going out?’ snapped the elderly lady at the table.

  Flynn ignored her. Actually I’m not sure he even heard her. He was still staring at me, his eyes – the green speckled with gold – shining with happiness.

  ‘Thank God I found you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere. You said a Saturday job in a café in Norton; I’ve been to every single one.’ He paused. ‘I would have come to the commune, but I thought your dad might shoot me, so . . .’

  ‘Come on.’ I grabbed his arm and walked him out on to the pavement. The sky was filling with scurrying clouds and there was a chilly breeze in the air. Saturday afternoon traffic zoomed up and down the road. My insides were somersaulting. What was Flynn doing here? Why had he tracked me down like this?

  I let go of Flynn’s arm and walked along the pavement. Flynn strode beside me. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved top. The clothes were far less formal than the suit he’d been in last week, but still looked insanely expensive.

  ‘Why did you run off?’ he asked, his voice low and intense. ‘You said you’d stay. You said we could talk. I . . . I . . .’

  Fury rose up inside me. This was so typical of Flynn, full of big expansive gestures. Arriving like a storm, leaving destruction in his wake.

  I stopped walking and turned on him.

  ‘I left because it was too hard to see you,’ I said. ‘You might be all “Let’s be friends, River, yeah? Going out was so last year, let’s have a chat and catch up, blah blah blah,” but I can’t do that, okay? I can’t be friends with you.’

  Tears rose in my eyes. I turned away. This was awful. Humiliating. I should never have gone to that wedding. I’d been trying so hard to put Flynn in the past and here he was, larger than life, bruising back into my world again.

  Bringing with him nothing but pain.

  ‘River?’ Flynn’s voice sounded broken.

  I turned. To my surprise tears were welling up in his eyes. I’d never seen him cry before. Well, I had. Twice. But both times before he had fought back the tears, wiping them angrily away. Now his eyes glistened and a single tear leaked on to his cheek as he spoke.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Riv,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘I just . . . it was . . . seeing you. Something . . . I can’t . . . explain. I’ve tried to remember what you said, when I saw you last Christmas, how you’re all convinced I don’t love you . . . and I know that I shouldn’t bother you any more . . . that you’re probably with someone else. And even if you aren’t, you probably don’t think about me any more . . . I threw all that away . . . I hurt you. I was such an idiot.’ He balled his hands into fists at his sides.

  ‘Why are you here?’ My own voice was shaking now. It wasn’t fair Flynn doing this, pouring this avalanche of emotion all over me.

  ‘I need to make you understand why I left, Riv,’ he said, the tear he’d shed now dry on his cheek. ‘Back last year I had to get away, sort out my head, away from college and the commune. I never stopped thinking about you or caring about you,’ he pleaded. ‘I told you. See, I still wear it, Riv.’ He tugged at his top, pulling out a tiny blue R on a worn leather string. ‘R for River.’

  I stared at the little R, remembering the day he had put it on and how happy we had been. “‘R for River”. That’s what that friend of yours, Cody, said at the wedding.’ I took a step away.

  Flynn scowled. ‘Yeah, Cody guessed it was you.’

  ‘Guessed who was me?’

  Flynn stepped closer, filling up the space between us. ‘The girl I’ve told him about, the girl from the past.’ He paused, his eyes piercing through me. Then he lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘The girl I’m still in love with.’

  5

  For a second my insides melted at his words, at the look in his eyes. Then my anger surged back.

  ‘You have no idea who I am any more. You’re imagining a person, imagining being in love. I’m not the same as I was then,’ I said. ‘I’ve changed. You don’t know me any more.’

  Flynn opened his mouth. I felt sure he was about to resist what I was saying, to tell me that however I was different on the surface, the connection between us was still the same . . . that I could feel it and so could he.

  And I knew in my heart that this was true.

  But Flynn didn’t say any of that. Instead he lowered his gaze. ‘You’re right,’ he said. And there was such a depth of humility and misery in his voice that I almost wept. ‘You’re right, I don’t know you any more. But I’d like to, more than anything.’ He looked up. ‘Will you give me that chance, River? Will you let me get to know you again?’

  I gazed into his eyes. I could just imagine Dad’s anxious face if Flynn and I started seeing each other. He would hate it. So would Mum. None of my friends would understand either; and Leo – I was fairly certain – would never forgive me.

  Still, it wasn’t their decision. It was mine.

  I could live without their respect, hard though it would be.

  But I couldn’t live without respecting myself.

  Every cell in my body wanted to take the single step between me and Flynn. I ached to have him hold me. I longed for him to kiss me.

  But he had let me down. And it was, ultimately, impossible to trust him again. We had had our time and it hadn’t worked out and it didn’t make any sense to think anything would be any different in the future.

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘I can’t see you again,’ I said. ‘I understand you were mixed up last year. I get that you didn’t mean to hurt me. I forgive you. But your life’s a mess and—’

  ‘It’s not,’ Flynn protested. ‘I have a proper flat in central London. I�
�ve got a job, working with Cody. I—’

  ‘Doing what?’ I interrupted. ‘I met Cody. He . . .’ I tailed off, remembering the cold, calculating look in the other boy’s eyes.

  Flynn looked away. ‘It doesn’t matter what I’m doing,’ he said.

  ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t. I suppose all that matters to you is making lots of money.’ I shook my head. ‘That’s all you’ve ever really cared about, isn’t it? I mean you dress it up like you want to be the big man and have people rate you, but if you have to buy people’s respect then, guess what, they don’t respect you. Not really.’

  I took a step away. The skies were clouding over. A few spots of rain fell. My chest heaved with emotion. Flynn stared at me, his mouth gaping in shock.

  ‘It isn’t like that,’ he said. ‘I mean I am making money, but—’

  ‘I don’t care about money,’ I went on, feeling close to tears. It was too much, Flynn forcing me into this position. Too hard. ‘Your nice clothes and your flat don’t impress me and I didn’t like Cody. I don’t know what you do with him, but the fact that I’ve asked you twice and you’re too embarrassed to answer tells me that it’s not something you’re proud of. Which makes you a bit of a loser really.’ I paused. ‘I’m starting to think you’re destined to mess everything up, that messing stuff up is the person you’re always going to be. But it doesn’t have to be the same for me.’

  I took another step away. It was definitely raining now, a soft patter on my hair and shoulders. I pulled my hood up to cover my head. Flynn was still staring at me. I expected him to be angry, but he looked more upset than cross. A sense of triumph filled me. This, really, was the closure I’d been looking for. I held up my hand, palm-side out, a stop sign. ‘Enough with all your big Romeo and Juliet feelings, Flynn. Just grow up. Try to be honest. And kind. That’s what really counts.’

  I turned and stalked away. Around the corner and up the High Street. I didn’t look back until I reached the bus stop. I half expected Flynn to have followed me. But there was no sign of him. I sagged against the wall of the bus shelter. The rain was falling heavily now, drumming down on the shelter roof.