Chapter 3

The Friend Who Wanted Everything

The day after our exams ended, the three of us met at the little tea shop near Brandon Hill.

Chloe was already sitting beside Julian when I arrived. They had left the chair between them empty for me, arranging us in the familiar order that had once made me feel loved.

Chloe pushed a slice of lemon cake towards my place. Julian slid over a cup of Earl Grey.

“See?” Chloe said brightly. “Perfect teamwork. I chose the cake, and he remembered your tea.”

“You've become very coordinated,” I said.

Julian's fingers tightened around his cup.

Chloe laughed and hooked her arm through mine. “What happens if we all end up at different universities? I can't imagine not seeing you every day.”

“You won't have to worry,” Julian said. “Evelyn and I will be close, whatever happens.”

Chloe reached across me and smacked his wrist. “She's mine first.”

They laughed.

I sat between them like the cherished centre of our little world, knowing I was the only person at the table they had agreed to sacrifice.

“Perhaps you two will end up at the same university,” I said.

Their laughter stopped.

Chloe recovered first. “Why would you say that?”

I stirred my tea. “Results-day nerves. Ignore me.”

Julian covered my hand with his.

“Whatever happens, we'll face it together.”

I looked at the hand that had switched my pens.

Then I looked up and smiled. “I know.”

Over the next week, Julian's messages became less frequent.

He was visiting relatives. Helping his father. Going somewhere with poor reception. Each excuse arrived neatly packaged, and I accepted every one.

Chloe, meanwhile, wanted to see me constantly.

She invited me for coffee, shopping and long walks around the harbour. Her affection was so relentless that it felt less like friendship than surveillance.

One Saturday afternoon, we wandered through the arcade at Cabot Circus. I picked up a powder-blue headband from a display.

Before I could try it on, Chloe touched my arm.

“I love that. Let me have it?”

It was an old pattern between us. If she admired my stationery, I gave it to her. If she wanted the last ticket to a concert, I stepped aside. Once, when we were twelve, I had spent three months of pocket money on the trainers she wanted because her mother had said they were too expensive.

I handed her the headband.

“It suits you better.”

She studied my face rather than the gift.

“Evie, can I ask you something strange?”

“You usually do.”

“If we ever liked the same person, what would happen?”

There it was.

Not guilt. Not confession. A test.

I pretended to consider it. “I'd let you have him.”

Her eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“There are plenty of men in the world.” I smiled. “Although it doesn't matter. Julian says I'm the only person he'll ever love.”

Something darkened behind her eyes.

Her phone buzzed. She read the screen, tapped a quick response and shoved it into her bag.

“Mum needs me at home. Family disaster.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No!” The word emerged too sharply. She softened it with a laugh. “Honestly, don't. It's embarrassing.”

I watched her hurry towards the escalators.

Then I followed.

She crossed the shopping centre and entered a crowded café on the far side of the road. Through the window, I saw Julian waiting in a corner booth.

That morning, he had told me he was spending the weekend with his grandmother in Devon.

Chloe slid into the seat beside him rather than the one opposite.

“Why did you insist on seeing me?” he asked.

She leaned close enough for her hair to brush his shoulder.

“Because I missed you.”

He tried not to smile.

He failed.

I stood behind a display of postcards in the shop across the arcade and took three photographs. One showed their faces. One captured Chloe's hand on Julian's knee. The last included the café clock above them.

My chest hurt, but I did not go inside.

Exposing them now would only release them from the burden of pretending. I needed them confident. Careless. Certain that I had used their pens and was waiting for a result that would never come.

That evening, Julian messaged me from his imaginary trip to Devon.

When results are out, let's go to Brighton. Just us.

I typed: I saw you with Chloe.

Then deleted it.

I'd love that, I sent instead.

The next twelve days were an education in betrayal.

Julian remembered to ask whether I had eaten, yet forgot to call when he promised. Chloe told me she feared losing our friendship, then disappeared for hours whenever Julian claimed to be busy.

Sometimes their tenderness almost confused me. Julian still remembered which tea I ordered. Chloe still carried plasters because I blistered easily in new shoes.

Then I remembered the blank sheet on my desk.

Affection did not become harmless merely because some part of it was genuine.

The evening before results day, Julian asked me to meet him at the old school playing field.

Sunset had turned the running track copper. He sat high in the empty stands and patted the bench beside him.

“Do you remember our first week here?” he asked.

“You borrowed my chemistry notes and returned them covered in biscuit crumbs.”

He laughed. “I noticed you before that. On the first day, you introduced yourself and said you wanted to study at Oxford. You looked embarrassed the second you said it, but I thought you were brilliant.”

He began listing details from our years together.

The way I dropped my pen whenever I tried to spin it. The tomato soup I ordered every Thursday. The low ponytail that always came loose during cross-country practice.

Every memory was correct.

That hurt more than if he had forgotten everything.

“You really did love me,” I said quietly.

His smile faded. “Did?”

I looked towards the darkening field. “I'm nervous about tomorrow.”

He took my hand.

“Sometimes I get scared too,” he admitted.

“Of the results?”

“Of you going too far.” His thumb pressed against my knuckles. “Oxford changes people. I need to know you'll still be somewhere I can reach.”

Not that he wanted to run beside me.

He wanted me close enough to catch.

“I won't be afraid tomorrow,” I said.

He mistook my meaning and relaxed.

The last of the sunlight vanished behind the sports hall. Julian tightened his hand around mine as if he already felt me slipping away.

“Evelyn,” he said, “if you could go back and choose again, would you still choose me?”