Falling Fast (20 page)

She rolled her eyes at me, then turned and walked out of the room without a word.

I stared down at the carpet. Flynn was just half a metre in front of me. I couldn’t look at him. My whole face was burning with shame.

‘River?’ He put his hands on my arms. I stared down at the carpet. A corner of the desk stood to my right, a jumble of rucksacks beneath it. On my left was the bottom shelf of a
bookcase.

In front of me were Flynn’s feet. His cheap trainers.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

I felt his hands fall from my arms. His feet took a step backwards.

‘What
was
all that?’ he said. ‘Why were you saying sorry to Emmi?’

I looked up at him. His face registered shock. Confusion. And then his eyes hardened.

‘You knew what Emmi was doing, didn’t you?’ His face was like thunder. ‘Why?’

I couldn’t speak. My heart was choking my throat.

‘Were you laughing at me?’ It was hardly more than a whisper. ‘Were you playing some game?’

‘No.’ I found my voice suddenly. ‘It was a test. I wanted to see if you’d go with Emmi. I . . . I . . . it was stupid. Okay?’

Flynn took another step away from me. ‘A test?’ he said hoarsely. ‘A test of what?’

‘To see if you loved me,’ I said. My voice was shaking. My whole body was shaking. ‘Look. It was stupid. It was wrong. I stopped her before . . .’

‘You’re frigging right it was wrong,’ Flynn shouted. ‘I can’t believe you would . . . that you would
test
me. That you would get Emmi to . . . to . . . God,
River. What is your
problem
?’

I couldn’t look at him. I suddenly saw how I must seem to him – jealous and insecure and stupid.

‘And what does it prove, anyway?’ he yelled. ‘Me turning Emmi down – which I would have done – only proves I don’t fancy her. At least not enough to risk
losing you over. How does that tell you I love you?’

I shook my head. I could feel his eyes boring into me. My heart seemed to shrink away to dust. I’d blown it. I’d thrown it away.

Flynn’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘How could you not know that I love you? It’s there every time I look at you. Every time we touch each other. From the first moment I saw
you.’ Flynn shook his head. ‘How could you not feel it?’

He stared at me for a long moment then his whole face closed up.

He strode over to the door.

‘Wait.’ I ran after him. ‘Please, Flynn,’ I sobbed. ‘I
did
feel it, sometimes, but you never
said
. Don’t you see? I mean,
Emmi
was
Juliet. And any guy who turned down Emmi would have to be mad, or so into someone else that . . .’

‘How would you feel if I’d done that to you?’ Flynn’s eyes flashed angrily. He put his hand on the doorknob. ‘How would you feel if I’d got some guy to try it
on with you, just to see what you did?’

‘I know,’ I wept, tears leaking down my face. ‘I just wanted to . . . to be sure of how you felt.’

‘Jesus Christ, River.’ Flynn exploded. ‘Can you hear the total rubbish you’re coming out with? You can
never
be sure of someone else.
Never
. You have to
have trust . . . faith . . . That’s what love is about. It’s a frigging leap in the dark.’

He turned the door handle.

‘You make it sound like a religion,’ I said quickly.

Flynn turned to face me. ‘At least religion has heat and fire and passion. The worst thing about this – about you setting me up with Emmi – is that it’s so
cold-blooded.’

‘It’s no more cold-blooded than you trying to have sex with me,’ I muttered.

Flynn’s eyes widened. ‘What?’

I stared up at him sullenly. ‘You got it all planned, didn’t you? Get everyone out of the house. Get a shag. Get happy. Great. Except what about me? What about what I
want?’

Flynn blinked. ‘I thought that
was
what you wanted. I thought . . .’

We stared at each other. Flynn’s forehead creased with a frown.

‘You didn’t listen,’ I said, my insides twisting horribly. ‘I told you . . . I tried to tell you . . . I wasn’t ready.’

Flynn’s frown deepened. ‘But . . . but you said aft er the play . . .’

‘I didn’t mean
right
after,’ I said. ‘I meant . . .’

But I couldn’t say what I meant. Suddenly I didn’t know what I meant. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ I said, trying desperately to explain.
‘It’s just that . . . sometimes I think for you it’s only about sex. Like as soon as you told me about your dad, as soon as you’d opened up, you acted as if . . . as if I
should automatically be ready to go the whole way . . . and I’m just . . . I’m not ready . . . not yet . . .’

Flynn sighed. ‘Well, why didn’t you
say
that? Why didn’t you just say:
no, Flynn, you horny git, I’m not ready
?’

‘Because I was scared you’d go off me,’ I whispered. ‘You’re so . . . you’re so moody . . . and angry . . . all the time.’ I slid my arms round his
back, then reached up inside his shirt, feeling for the scar on his shoulder.

Juliet’s lines echoed in my head:

My bounty is as boundless as the sea

My love as deep; the more I give to thee

The more I have, for both are infinite.

I traced the line of his scar.

He stood, all stiff and awkward, but he didn’t push me away.

A long moment passed.

‘I know I’m angry . . .’ he mumbled. ‘It’s . . . you were right . . . I mean, what you said before about me flaring up and being scary . . . like my dad . . . I
know that’s true . . .’

I looked up at him. ‘You said what I said was stupid.’

Flynn made a face. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t like it . . . how you see into me . . . it freaks me out . . .’

‘But understanding each other is a good thing, isn’t it?’

Flynn said nothing, just hugged me tighter.

‘So . . .’ I hesitated. ‘So . . . why do you get so angry?’

‘I dunno . . .’ Flynn’s voice was low and miserable. ‘I dunno . . . it’s just always there . . .’

I leaned against his chest. ‘I thought when I loved somebody it would be perfect,’ I whispered. ‘Like it is in . . . in the play. I thought it would be easy. We’d just
know what to do. And we’d agree about everything. And—’

Flynn snorted. ‘You’re a frigging nutjob, River. You know that? A nutjob.’

He wound his arms round my neck.

We stood in silence for a while.

The music thumped away in the background. I could hear people laughing and shouting in the corridor outside.

Then Flynn sighed. ‘So . . . on top of thinking that I’m moody and rude and difficult – you also think I’m capable of doing it with your best friend behind your back and
dumping you because you’re not quite ready to have sex with me.’ He looked down at me and grinned. ‘Have I left anything out?’

A trickle of relief seeped slowly through my brain as I looked up into his eyes. ‘Did I mention I think you’re hopelessly screwed up?’ I said.

Flynn leaned down and kissed my neck.

‘Oh, I think we’ve established that we’re both frigging screwed up,’ he murmured.

I twisted my head, searching for his mouth.

We kissed for a long time.

Finally Flynn drew back. ‘You could still come back to my place.’ He smiled at me, hopefully. ‘No pressure, but we could just sleep together. You know, all curled
up.’

I grinned. Back in September I’d imagined love as one feeling. One big, grand, uncomplicated feeling. But it wasn’t like that at all. It’s made up of lots of feelings: trust
and sex and fun and regret and forgiving and hope and . . . well, pretty much everything, really.

And, if you’re with the right person, it’s somehow bigger than all those things put together, too.

‘I guess we’d better say goodbye to everyone else, then,’ I said. ‘My bag’s in the kitchen. No. Honest, Flynn. It is. Under the sink.’

Flynn opened the door and slipped away to get my bag. I blinked into the dim light of the hall. Music seemed to be blaring out from all directions. Then I caught sight of Emmi and Grace, huddled
together on the stairs. They saw me and came running over.

Emmi shook my arm. ‘Why d’you stop me, Riv?’ she pouted. ‘It was looking good. I mean, I could see he thought I was hot, but I’m pretty sure there was no way
he’d have . . .’

‘I know.’ I laughed. ‘I just realised it was the wrong thing to do.’

Grace and Emmi exchanged glances. I grinned, suddenly feeling ridiculously happy. After all my worries I knew that Flynn loved me. And that I had two good friends who really cared about me.

I threw my arms around them both and hugged them tightly. ‘Thanks, guys,’ I beamed.

They drew back suspiciously.

‘So you’re okay about how he feels about you?’ Grace said tentatively.

I nodded.

‘And you’ve stopped worrying that he likes me because I was Juliet?’ Emmi asked.

I nodded.

‘And you don’t mind that he wants to . . . you know . . .’ Grace blushed.

‘. . . shag you senseless,’ Emmi added.

I shook my head.

Emmi pursed her lips. ‘I still think he’s trouble,’ she said.

‘So angry,’ Grace nodded. ‘And moody. And intense.’

‘Like the night,’ Emmi said darkly. She started quoting melodramatically from
Romeo and Juliet
.

‘
Come, gentle night, come, loving black-brow’d night,

Give me my Romeo.
’

I grinned at her, remembering the next lines:

And, when he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night . . .

Then I caught sight of Flynn by the front door.

And I forgot the play and the poetry.

And all I wanted was another kiss.

Award-winning books from Sophie McKenzie

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sophie McKenzie was born and brought up in London, where she still lives with her teenage son. She has worked as a journalist and a magazine editor, but fell in love with writing
after being made redundant and enrolling on a creative writing course, and now writes thriller and relationship novels for young adults. She burst into the publishing world with
Girl,
Missing
(published 2006), which tallied up numerous award wins nationwide and was longlisted for the coveted Carnegie Medal. The sequel,
Sister, Missing
, was published in hardcover in
Autumn 2011.
Blood Ties
(2008) was another multiple award-winner which again saw Sophie longlisted for the Carnegie Medal, and crowned winner of the North East Teen Book Award and the Red
House Book Award amongst many others. Its follow-up, Blood Ransom, was published in 2010.
Blood Ransom,
was published in 2010.
Falling Fast
is the first title in her new Flynn
series.

Turn the page for an extract from Burning Bright, the next book in the series!

Emmi banged on the door of my changing cubicle.

‘River,’ she yelled. ‘Come
on
.’

I gritted my teeth and opened the door. Emmi stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. Tall, dark and impatient, the strings of her dark blue designer bikini were looped in artfully casual
bows over her slim hips and tanned shoulders. Grace hovered beside her – all fragile and blonde – in a pretty, pink one-piece.

‘About time.’ Emmi rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone else is outside already.’

‘Are you okay, Riv?’ Grace asked anxiously.

‘I can’t go,’ I stammered, looking down at my plain black swimsuit. ‘I look awful.’

‘No. You look nice.’ Grace smiled at me.

‘Forget nice,’ Emmi snorted. ‘You look hot.’

I stared at her, unconvinced.

‘Oh for goodness sake.’ Emmi practically stamped her foot, then dragged me across the damp tiles of the changing room to the low counter with the hair-dryers chained to the walls.
She spun me round so I was facing the nearest mirror.

‘Look,’ she snapped. ‘Look at the way you curve: Boobs. Waist. Bum. You’re
all
curves, Riv. It’s sexy.’

I stared at my reflection. At my straggly hair and ditchwater-grey eyes. Then down to my knees. I hated my knees. ‘I look short,’ I wailed. ‘And dumpy.’

‘I give up.’ Emmi grabbed my arm. ‘Fine. You look short and dumpy. You’re coming outside anyway.’

And she dragged me through the chlorinated foot bath and through the swing door into the main pool area.

It was a pool party. Alex, Emmi’s boyfriend, was seventeen today and Emmi had persuaded him he should celebrate by getting his parents to hire the swimming baths for a couple of hours.
That kind of expense is nothing to Emmi. She’s loaded. So’s Alex – at least he’s always flashing his money around. His parents bought him
and
all his brothers an iPad
each for Christmas.