Anyone

Book 0: Dunbridge Academy

by Sarah Sprinz

Genres: Coming of Age; Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

Lies, intrigue, friendship and first love - welcome to Dunbridge Academy

Charles Sinclair is Victoria Belhaven-Wynford's best friend. Ever since primary school, he's been the one Tori can confide in. The only thing she can't tell him about is the pit in her stomach that just won't fade since she started dating her crush, Valentine. Deep down, Tori suspects that whatever she has with Valentine, it's nothing like what she feels for her best friend.

But her classmate Eleanor has claimed Sinclair's attention, the Juliet to his Romeo in Dunbridge Academy's annual theatrical performance. Not that Tori would mind. If she weren't the one who's supposed to write the script for the love story between the star-crossed lovers . . .

I don't know who I'm kissing. Romeo or Sinclair. Sinclair or Charles. The boy I fell in love with all those years ago, or the man who has been driving me mad for the last few weeks. Whoever it is - it feels better than anything.

READERS LOVE SARAH SPRINZ

'I couldn't put it down' 5* reader review

'I loved this story' 5* reader review

''Sarah Sprinz has done it again' 5* reader review

'What an amazing book!' 5* reader review

18+ content

Release date: July 18, 2024

Publisher: Quercus Publishing

Print pages: 464

Sample

‘What were you doing in there all that time?’

Smile. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. And even if he does, it doesn’t faze you.

‘Just freshening up,’ I reply, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, and stiffening my shoulders. I hear my mother’s voice in my head. If you’re going to wear a dress like that, you have to stand up straight. Shoulders back, chin up.

I know how it works. I’ve had plenty of chances to practise at events like the Dunbridge Academy New Year Ball. Valentine has too – his family and mine move in the same circles – but although I step closer to him, he doesn’t offer me his arm. He doesn’t even look at me properly, just turns back to his upper-sixth pals. They’re laughing and chatting, cracking jokes that I don’t get, and as they stand there smoking, the icy air creeps into my lungs. I can hear the muffled thump of the music in the ballroom. There are little groups of pupils standing around on the cobbled courtyard, which is surrounded by ancient buildings in dark brick. Expensive suits, stunning ball dresses, glittering bangles and earrings worth as much as a small car, watches so exclusive and expensive people only wear them on occasions like this. It’s the one evening a year when Dunbridge lives up to its reputation as an elite boarding school. You can practically smell the money. A bit like the dinner parties and other events I sometimes have to go to with my parents.

I look over to the open double doors I came out from. A moment ago, I was boiling, but the cold out here reminds me that it’s mid-January. My sand-coloured dress may be floor-length and have slim sleeves, but it’s in a thin satin that has no warmth in it at all. I shiver and cross my arms as I step closer to Val. The low-cut back is definitely spectacular and was the clincher for buying this dress, but right now I’m wishing I’d gone for something warmer. I should go back in. I don’t smoke, and I could wait for Val in the warm. Or he could offer me his jacket, but the thought clearly hasn’t crossed his mind.

My feet hurt, I’m tired, and it’s not even midnight. Pull yourself together, Belhaven-Wynford. Last year you were on the dance-floor until gone one thirty, and you had the time of your life. Am I getting old? Is that it? Or has it got more to do with the fact that, back then, I was with Sinclair, Henry, Olive and the others, having way more fun? Where even are they? Val doesn’t look like he’d miss me if I joined my friends for a bit. I’m just about to go looking for them when I see more people emerging from the foyer.

Sinclair’s dug both hands into the pockets of his dark suit trousers, and he’s drunk. I can see it in the way he’s standing, even in the dim light of the lanterns and fire-pits set up out here. Flickering light on the courtyard walls, and the burning expression in my best friend’s eyes as he looks at me. I’m familiar with the sight of Sinclair in the dark blue Dunbridge uniform, and the blazer he loathes with such a passion that he slings it over his shoulder if at all possible, but the black suit, leather shoes and white shirt fit his slim body like a glove. I don’t know what he’s done to his blond hair, but this evening it’s falling extra casually into his face. He should be grateful to me for talking him out of going to the barber just before the ball. When he’s had a haircut, he always looks like a freshly clipped poodle. But tonight, he looks good, and he has no clue.

Emma and Henry are following him out. She spots me and gives me a wave, unwinds herself from Henry’s arm around her shoulders, and walks over to me. I’m pretty sure no one else would rock that skin-tight, dark blue dress the way she does. Emma’s the sportiest person I know, the most elegant too, and she and Henry – who’ll look like a bloody prince whatever he wears – make the ultimate power couple.

‘I’ll be right back,’ I mumble, turning away from Val and the cloud of smoke that’s wafting in my direction. I feel a bit sick, which isn’t just down to the cigarettes. I’ve been kind of tense all day, so I couldn’t swallow a bite of dinner. I’m still waiting for the nerves to calm down so I can finally enjoy the ball.

‘Hi, lads and lasses, how’s everyone doing?’ It’s amazing how cheery I can sound when I’m numb inside.

Sinclair’s eyes rest heavily on me as I try to suppress my shivers. He takes his hands out of his pockets and I know they’re warm. But I’m not going over to him and letting him put his arm around me just because we always do that and he’s the only lad who can touch me without it meaning anything. I stay where I am. Emma says something, but I don’t take in what it is. Sinclair’s avoiding my gaze. I try to smile but it’s hard because I can’t help wondering why things have been so weird between us for a while now. Why being here with Val, spending the evening with him and his friends instead of my own, makes me feel like a traitor. After all, it’s not like Sinclair asked me to be his date tonight. The same as every year, I waited, longed for him to, because when it comes to this New Year Ball, every last ounce of feminism leaves my body and I’m secretly desperate to be asked, like all the heroines in all the books. By him. Sinclair. Semi-ironically, of course – as friends, platonic, even though everyone would have read stuff into it. But Sinclair didn’t ask me. Of course he didn’t. He asked Ellie Inglewood, who bragged about it to her friends. Now Sinclair’s danced with her a couple of times and spent the rest of the evening standing around with Henry and the others. Normally, I’d have gone with Gideon, or Omar. Someone I like, someone I know well enough to be sure he doesn’t want anything else from me. Ha, but this year, nothing’s normal because I’m here with Val, who definitely wants something else from me. After all, that’s what I like about being with him. Being wanted. Who wouldn’t want to be wanted by Valentine Ward, rugby captain and uncrowned king of Dunbridge Academy?

Emma’s fanning herself with her hand and giggling, so she’s probably a bit tipsy at least. Henry leans down and kisses her. That’s the only thing that bothers me about the New Year Ball. The sheer quantity of alcohol that gets smuggled in every year.

I look over to Sinclair, who slips off his jacket. There’s a deep frown between his eyebrows as he hands it to me. I hesitate.

‘You’re freezing,’ he says curtly. His voice sounds chilly, but there’s something in his pale eyes that makes me go weak at the knees.

Before I can even think about taking the jacket, I feel a heavy arm around my shoulders.

‘We going back in?’

I can smell the booze on Val’s breath and I want to turn my head away, but force myself not to. It’ll only piss him off if I embarrass him in front of his pals. He’s touchy when it comes to that kind of thing, as everyone knows. And he has his reasons, even if I wish he’d open up to me a bit about them. But I can count on the fingers of one hand how often Val’s spoken about his sister since we’ve been spending more time together. His relationship with her doesn’t seem to have improved since she left Dunbridge a few years ago to study at Oxford.

‘Sure.’ I nod, as Sinclair slips his jacket back on. His lips are pressed so tightly together that they’re just a thin line.

‘What’ve you done with Ellie?’ Val asks, in the patronizing tone that Sinclair’s absolutely allergic to. ‘Packed her off to bed? Or has she gone to play with her little friends from nursery?’

‘Val,’ I mumble, placating, trying to push him away. It’s the only thing that really annoys me. The way he and Sinclair constantly grate on each other, playing all these pointless little power games.

Sinclair clenches his fists. ‘Shut it, Ward!’

‘Enough of your shite, OK?’ says Val, taking a step towards him. He’s taller than Sinclair, and even if I don’t think they’re immature enough to start a fight here, I’m getting anxious.

‘Yeah? Or what?’ Sinclair hisses. ‘Gonna tell your arsehole uncle? Shame he doesn’t teach here any more.’

‘Watch it.’

‘Val . . . Let’s go.’ I pull Valentine back by the arm, but he shakes off my hand.

‘Does your mummy know you’re drinking at her New Year Ball?’ he asks.

‘No, but I’m sure she’d be glad to know where the booze comes from.’

‘Get tae fuck, Sinclair,’ Val growls. I sigh with relief as he finally lets me pull him away. It feels wrong to be heading towards the entrance with him, leaving Sinclair and the others behind. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, once we’re out of earshot of everyone else. ‘I know that was out of order and they’re your friends.’

I open my mouth, but I’m too surprised to speak. ‘That’s OK.’ Is it, really? I don’t like the way he speaks to my friends. But it seems Val’s aware of that. And he looks genuinely guilty, as he shoves his hands into his trouser pockets.

‘This is just as fucked up as my mum’s stupid parties,’ he says, coming to a stop. ‘Everyone’s only here to be seen.’

I nod, thinking about Veronica Ward’s events, which my family regularly gets invited to. Val’s family live a forty-five-minute drive from my parents’ house. Our dads play golf together, any time they don’t have to partner our mums to some business dinner or other. Val’s mum is a big shot in property, while mine runs an art gallery, supplying high society with paintings worth about as much as a nice detached family house. They often work together. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, you could say. But the truth is that everyone in our circles likes to stay in their familiar cliques.

So I’ve known the Wards since I was a wean, and it’s the exact same with Val and the Belhaven-Wynfords. Clearly, we were always going to end up at school together too, because Dunbridge Academy is the obvious choice in this neck of the woods for posh kids to get a posh education. We’re actually the same age because Dunbridge occasionally offers its pupils the chance to retake a year, or to start a year later if you were one of those kids born over the summer or whatever. Basically, for the right kind of money more or less anything goes and the school is keen to give as much flexibility as it can to its students, their rich parents and their often-unusual circumstances. If you were being unkind, you could say such a system saves our parents the bother of bringing us up, but I can’t tell – this is all I’ve ever known. If I were a character in one of my novels, I’d probably hate life in this elite bubble on principle, but I genuinely appreciate the opportunities Mum and Dad are giving William and me here. It would be ungrateful not to, even if I sometimes feel the weight of my family’s social standing like a burden on my shoulders. And apart from my brother, Val’s the only person I can talk to about it. Most of the time, I’m glad my friends aren’t in this world. OK, so they all have rich parents, but their families’ lifestyles are so different from mine.

‘We could leave,’ I suggest. My faint hope is extinguished as Val shakes his head. Yeah, it was too much to wish for, a chance to take off these killer heels.

‘No, it’s fine,’ he says. ‘Besides, you’re looking too hot to bail out just now. I want everyone else to feel jealous a bit longer.’

I flush. Everyone else . . . Sinclair, then. Not that I believe my best pal would actually be jealous of Val. After all, I’m not fussed that Sinclair’s into Eleanor in the upper sixth. Not in the least.

‘If you like,’ I say.

Val smiles, which isn’t a sight I get to see very often. Normally, his face is as hard as the expression in his brown eyes. His bone structure’s out of this world. Valentine Ward, cheekbones, cheekbones, cheekbones, and a classical nose that makes him look like one of those proud Greek gods. He’s just damn hot, especially when he’s wearing a perfectly fitting suit, like he is now, one that emphasizes his perfect broad shoulders. Valentine Ward is tall and athletic.

He puts his hand on the small of my back. ‘I hear you’re coming for dinner next weekend,’ he says, as we walk in.

‘Well, that’s news to me,’ I say. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

‘My mum wants me to be there. I thought you might like to join your parents too. It would make the evening a bit less dire.’

I hesitate. It’s not like my parents are unaware that Val and I are becoming good friends, as my mum likes to put it, but it would be the first time we’d seen them as a couple. If we are a couple, that is . . . I really don’t know, and I don’t want to rush anything. He’s my date for the New Year Ball and that could mean everything or nothing. When Val asked me before the Christmas holidays if I’d go with him, my first thought was of Sinclair. I couldn’t be pleased at first. But then Val really put in an effort. He browsed around Ebrington Tales with me, even though he finds reading deathly boring, and then we had a hot chocolate in the Blue Room Café, and he finally asked me. It was absolutely right to say yes, even though I lay awake half the night imagining the look on my best friend’s face when he heard.

‘I’ll ask them,’ I say hastily. ‘Is Pippa coming?’

Val’s face hardens and he shakes his head. It’s always tricky, mentioning his sister. Philippa Ward left four years ago with straight As throughout her school career, including her A levels, which we do here, like quite a few posh Scottish schools, rather than Highers. Philippa is now reading law at Oxford. She’s the epitome of a high-flyer, the Wards’ pride and joy. It’s not that Val’s parents aren’t proud of him too, but they’re very focused on their children’s academic achievements. And Val isn’t exactly a star pupil. Now that he doesn’t have his uncle at the school to coach him a bit, he seems to be struggling even more in class.

‘No, she’s busy,’ he says briefly, pulling back his hand. Great. Every time he shuts down like that, instead of showing his emotions, it’s a sharp stab in the chest. I kid myself that it’s because he never learned how. Veronica and Augustus Ward aren’t cold people precisely, but on the other hand, I can’t remember them exactly overflowing with the milk of human kindness.

‘Wait here a moment,’ says Val, glancing rapidly from side to side then striding firmly towards the cloakroom set up on one side of the foyer. I spot Cillian in a relatively hidden corner, bending over a table. I shiver as I realize what they’re up to.

There have always been rumours that the upper sixth are secretly doing coke, but I’d never believed them. Apparently, that was naïve of me. I stop as Val walks over. A few third-formers come out of the hall and glance sceptically at us. I hope no teacher spots us. I bite my bottom lip gently as I glance around.

‘Tori?’ Val’s voice is questioning. When I look over, he raises an eyebrow invitingly.

I hastily shake my head. ‘No, thanks.’

Thanks . . . Could you get any dumber?

‘Oh, come on.’ Cillian looks up.

‘I don’t want to,’ I say, as firmly as I can manage just now.

‘Who are you kidding? You’re a Belhaven-Wynford! Rude not to, among you toffs, isn’t it?’

‘Give it a rest.’ To my surprise, Val springs to my defence. There’s a threat in his tone and Cillian instantly shuts up, but he gives me a scornful look as he turns away.

‘Sorry,’ Val says, in my general direction. ‘I don’t normally, but the last couple of weeks have been seriously shit.’

I just nod in the weird silence that suddenly prevails as Val leans over the table and puts one finger to his nose. It doesn’t exactly look like he’s doing this for the first time. And I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all. It’s bad enough the way everybody’s drinking, although maybe I’m oversensitive there. I can kind of see where Val’s coming from. Things haven’t been so easy for him since his uncle had to leave Dunbridge. The upper sixth start their A-level exams in about four months’ time and, well, maybe he was counting on his help. I’m not exactly a try-hard, but my grades are reasonably solid. But last time I suggested to Val that we could revise together, he took it the wrong way. It ended up in an argument and he spent the afternoon in the fitness centre alone with the weights and the rowing machine. I decided not to get involved.

Val straightens up. He wipes his nose with his hand and puts his head back for a moment. His nostrils quiver as he breathes in.

‘Everything OK?’ I ask quietly, as he puts his arm around me.

He nods but doesn’t look at me. ‘Want to dance?’

If I’m honest, I’d rather join Sinclair, Emma and the others. It’s the first New Year Ball that I haven’t spent with my friends. But it’s also the first where I’ve had a proper date. Which is what I wanted. I force myself to smile.

‘Love to.’

Val swigs from the gin bottle that Cillian hands him, and my stomach clenches slightly. I shake my head when he holds it out to me.

‘Maybe later.’

Liar.

Val doesn’t say anything, but he rolls his eyes as he lifts the bottle back to his lips. Or maybe I only imagined that.

As we walk through the large double doors towards the ballroom, loud music hits us. I recognize the song from the intro: ‘Thinking Bout You’ by Ariana Grande. The dance-floor is full. Sequins and crystal chandeliers glitter in the light. My stomach gives a little hop as Val holds out his arm to me as we walk down the few steps on the broad stone staircase from the entrance. When I glance up at him, he’s looking more conciliatory. The light falls onto his face, casts shadows over his sharp features. I’m at the New Year Ball with Valentine Ward. It’s really true.

And everyone’s staring at us. I feel the eyes on me as we arrive. Val doesn’t pull his arm away. He leads me into the centre of the hall, past the people standing chatting at little tables around the edge of the dance-floor. Younger pupils nudge each other and sneak little glances at us.

It feels a bit like a dream as Val turns to me and puts his hand on my back. I feel his muscles as I take his hand. It’s only for a wee while, but I suddenly remember Sinclair and those ceilidh dance classes in the third form. My friend had surprisingly firm biceps, and for some reason, I couldn’t touch him without getting butterflies in my stomach. Then Mr Acevedo nearly had to throw us out because we spent almost every lesson giggling hysterically and getting all the steps wrong. It hits me like lightning as I look over Val’s shoulder, up towards the entrance, right into Sinclair’s expressionless face. He’s leaning on the banisters next to the doors. Emma and Henry have switched to full-on making out; Gideon’s standing next to him and his lips are moving, but Sinclair isn’t even pretending to listen. He’s looking down, at Val and me, and his eyes bore directly into my soul.

‘Hey, I’m over here.’

I turn my head back to Val. His smile doesn’t fit his sharp tone. Did he spot Sinclair and the others, or was it meant as a joke? I search his face for any hint that he’s pissed off, but see none.

‘Sorry.’ I smile.

Val pulls me a little closer. ‘Having fun?’ he asks.

I nod. It’s a reflex action. ‘Yeah, great.’

‘Oh, Tori . . .’ He sighs, as we move in time with the music. ‘What am I doing wrong?’

‘What do you mean?’ I reply at once. ‘It’s lovely, honestly.’

‘Would you rather go back to your wee pals?’

Is it really that obvious? I have to make more of an effort. ‘No. I’m here with you.’

‘Yes, you are,’ says Val. Suddenly, he looks me in the eye. Not just a quick, fleeting glance, it’s real and deep, a look that paralyses me from inside out. Will we kiss now? In books and films, it would be about the time for it. A tight embrace on the dance-floor. Lean in, shut your eyes. Help.

I don’t know if Val senses my panic. He moves back slightly, lifts his arm and I spin. When he pulls me in close again, I feel his hand lower down than it was before. A nervous tingle runs through my body. From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. It’s almost like I’m hyperaware of each of his movements. The song ends and, of course, it’s like all those dire high-school movies. A slow dance starts. Val puts both hands on my bum and presses me up to his body.

‘Watch it there, pal.’

No idea where she just sprang from, but before I’ve properly grasped what’s happening, Eleanor Attenborough’s adjusting Val’s hands on my back. And by adjusting I mean moving them way up.

‘You consider yourself a gentleman, don’t you?’ She blows him a kiss as he opens his mouth in outrage. Her eyes meet mine and she studies me for a moment. It’s not a glare, it’s more attentive than intimidating. It’s an are-you-OK-with-what’s-going-on-here look.

I give her an uncertain smile and it’s only then that she turns away and vanishes back into the throng.

‘Sheesh, Eleanor,’ Val mumbles, imitating her. ‘Watch it there, pal . . . Shit, jealous much?’

I don’t reply. Val might see things differently, but I don’t really get the impression Eleanor’s pining for him. How long were the two of them even together? Two months, tops – but clearly long enough for everyone at Dunbridge to have been talking about them. But that’s just how it is here.

‘If you ask me, she’s not all there.’ I don’t have time to react as Val takes my hand and pulls me away. ‘Whatever. C’mon, let’s get out of here.’

My gut tells me it would be unwise to contradict him so I follow. Val does seem kind of jittery. A minute ago, he wanted to dance and not leave yet. Is it the cocaine? In that case, he shouldn’t be on his own, should he?

There’s no sign of Sinclair, Gideon, Emma or Henry as we head up the steps to the door. Or Val’s friends in the foyer. He doesn’t look at me, just pulls his phone from his pocket as we step outside.

‘Bet they’re behind the gym,’ he says. ‘Are you cold?’

My stomach lurches as he actually pulls off his jacket and hands it to me. Wasn’t so hard. That’s my first thought. My second is: Oh, my God, Valentine Ward’s offering me his jacket. Of course it’s too big for me and I love that.

‘Shall we join the others?’ he asks.

‘Sure.’

‘Or would you rather find your friends?’

He asks without that tone of reproach, but his eyes are heavy with expectation as he looks at me. There’s only one correct answer, I know that.

‘No.’ I shake my head. Besides, I don’t even know where they are now. ‘Let’s go.’

Val smiles the smile in which only one corner of his mouth twitches. It’s so attractive.

‘I knew you’d make the right decision,’ he says. We turn the corner and he presses me up against a wall, in his jacket, in the dark. My heart explodes. ‘Victoria Belhaven-Wynford, you’re way too cool for your lower-sixth pals. Anyone ever tell you that?’

‘You’re the first.’

Val grins. ‘Am I indeed?’

And then he kisses me.

It’s just one single, fluid movement, and I didn’t see it coming. I feel the cold wall through his jacket and my heart beating up against Val’s lips.

Breathe through your nose. Close your eyes. That’s what all the novels say. God, even the women in books who’re doing this for the first time can manage it. It’s in their blood. And this isn’t my first kiss. OK, it is the first proper one, but when I close my eyes, Sinclair’s sitting on that windowsill, his blond hair falling into his eyes as we both move back.

Val puts his hands into my hair and pulls me closer. He doesn’t ask if this is all right. He just takes ownership of me as if the only way a woman can survive is to be owned. Books have taught me that this is romantic, but just now it feels more threatening. Like an invitation to something I might not be ready for.

I don’t flinch because I don’t get the chance. And because part of me is enjoying what’s going on. My stomach is tingling and my knees are weak.

I jump as people come closer. Val pays them no attention. He pushes his leg between my knees and my body responds. Nervous throbbing. I kiss him.

And my best friend watches.

There’s a blank look in Sinclair’s eyes and it shoots directly into my belly, like a jet of ice-cold water. A split second passes. Then he turns away. Val stops as a suppressed sound escapes me.

His lips glisten, his pupils are wide as he pulls back. It scares me in a thrilling kind of way.

‘Am I the first?’ he repeats.

I don’t know what he wants to hear. Would he like it to be true? The kiss with Sinclair in the second form doesn’t really count. It was only messing around. I nod. My mouth is dry.

She’s kissing him.

And, yeah, what can I say? It feels shit.

Tori’s kissing Valentine Ward. Or he’s kissing her. I can’t keep thinking about it – it’s driving me nuts. There’s nothing but hot, paralysing despair in my belly, which floats up, no matter how often I swig this fucking gin.

Tori can do whatever she likes, but do I really have to stand here and watch with my own eyes? I shouldn’t have come to this shitey New Year Ball. It’s ridiculous. Ellie Inglewood pissed off hours ago, to film nasty TikToks with her pals. I bet they’re bitching about how boring I am. I didn’t even try to kiss her, which I bet she was hoping for. It’s the image everyone has of me. Sinclair knows what he wants, goes out and gets it. He’s got condoms in his locker, but he’s never actually been within a mile of using them. It’s easier to hide behind cheek and double entendres than to admit to who you really are. Never been kissed. Well, almost never, but unfortunately I’ve never made it beyond that one kiss with Tori way back when. No wonder she’d rather winch Valentine Ward – unlike me, he seems to know what he’s doing.

‘Think you should switch to water for a bit?’ asks Gideon.

He can shut it. He’s steaming, if not as much as me. So what? It’s the New Year Ball. Everyone knows we drink; nobody cares. Well, there are some folks like Henry who are stone-cold sober. And he’s glued to Emma’s lips like she’s the only person in the world. I’m happy for my best pal, it’s not like that, but lately, I’ve just been raging.

So I say ‘No,’ and ignore Gideon when he shakes his head. ‘Want to go back in?’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, pal. If the teachers see us like this . . .’

‘They’re all hammered too.’

‘Your mum won’t be.’

I grunt reluctantly. OK, true, my mother – who also happens to be the head teacher here at Dunbridge Academy – definitely shouldn’t see me like this. I may be her son, but that doesn’t mean the school rules don’t apply to me. In fact, sometimes I reckon Mum’s extra strict with me so that no one thinks of accusing her of favouritism. The zero-tolerance policy on alcohol anywhere in the school grounds goes for me too. If we get caught, we’re in trouble. Henry’s the expert on this – he landed us all with a warning last autumn when he went on an entirely understandable bender after his sister died, but luckily that slate got wiped clean at Christmas. Even so, we don’t want a repeat of that right away.

Maybe I’ve had a skinful already, though – we’re suddenly in one of the old greenhouses and I don’t remember how we got here. But I can’t forget the way Valentine Ward was pressing Tori up against that wall. I want to boak just thinking about how he was touching her. Why did she let him? That guy’s a weapon and she’s way too smart for him.

I keep drinking. It’s not burning my throat any more. Mind you, the world spins slightly when I shut my eyes, but that’s not so bad. I’d like a lie-down. Yeah, good idea.

Someone’s trying to hold me up. I can hear voices and smashing glass. OK, I do feel kind of grim, but I don’t care. Henry’s face swims into focus above me. He says something and looks away again. What’s the time anyway? Maybe I’ll have a sleep. My eyes are tired. My head is tired, and my heart is kind of tired too. Fucking Valentine. I hate him, seriously. Tori too. Why’s she so beautiful? I can see her again. Her face is spinning around but I want to touch it. I want to tell her that I love her but you can’t do that without wrecking everything. This best-friends shit, it’s so frustrating. Must be great kissing that arsehole. So I’ll say so.

‘What, Sinclair?’

Her voice, it sounds so soft. Soft Tori-voice. That makes no sense, does it?

‘Need to boak?’

I hope not. But I hope a lot of things. Not many of them are gonna come true, we know that much. But Tori’s fingers are warm in my hair and my head is heavy – my head is so heavy. I think she’s putting an arm around me.

Please, God, don’t let her go away.

Val’s pupils are wide and my stomach’s a tiny knot of fear. Maybe I’m paranoid, but it freaks me out when people are on drugs. With good reason, I think.

Eve. . .