Shed Some Light

The day after a party at Jamie Fischer’s house normally meant a number of things to me; it meant I could sleep, wrapped up in my oldest and comfiest duvet, until the short hand of my clock reached well into the double fingers. It meant a time to battle the queasiness in my stomach and force a handful of pills down a throat so dry a goddamn cactus would have been at home there. It meant dragging my arse downstairs at some point in the afternoon, duvet and all, to sit in a trance before the television, swearing up and down to my mum that no alcohol had passed my lips the night before.

But most of all, it meant a day of uninterrupted me-time. There are couples that will tell you they can’t bear to be apart from each other for more than an hour. That even if they’re doing nothing, they want to be doing nothing together. Those couples are lying bastards, I’m telling you that now. Everyone, no matter how loved-up, needs me-time every now and then. And everyone knew, me-time for Grace Bolton was the day after a Jaime Fischer party.

Normally, it was a sacrosanct routine I was happy with. The curtains would be shut tight against any chance of invading sunlight, and my friends quickly caught on that phoning me before six pm meant risking life and limb.

But nothing in my life had been normal for a while now.

I hadn’t rolled in at three am, tiptoeing my way up the stairs and jumping the squeaky floorboard at the top, stifling my drunken giggles while my parents pretended they couldn’t hear me. I had, in fact, gotten in at an embarrassingly tame eleven o’clock, at which my parents had unashamedly goggled.

They didn’t, however, ask why my face was (yet again) puffy from crying. They didn’t, as Paul had, try to find out what was wrong. And they didn’t, as Paul had, try to reassure me that everything would be all right in the morning. They’d just let me walk past the living room and up the stairs, and from the time I shut my bedroom door to the time they went to bed, I didn’t hear a peep from them.

Already my routine had been tarnished, so I wasn’t surprised when the next day didn’t exactly go to plan either.

It wasn’t my unsettled stomach or dry throat that woke me. No, what roused me from a troubled and shallow slumber was the piercing morning light, which filtered through glass I’d forgotten to close the curtains against and slanted over my bed. Or at least that’s what I thought woke me.

I couldn’t help but frown against the heat of the golden sun against my retinas, but where the action would normally have brought on nausea and a hammering pain, I felt only a tightness in my chest and a stiffness of limbs.

“Fuck,” I muttered, turning my head to squint at the alarm clock on my bedside table. I had to shove a few books out of the way to clearly see the numbers, but when I did, I swore for a whole new reason.

It was six in the fucking morning. My grandmother didn’t even wake up this early, and she was the most annoyingly cheery morning person I knew.

I hadn’t seen six am in years, since my morning ritual before school normally included a mad dash to pee, brush my teeth and somehow get dressed in the ten-minute time period I allotted myself before I had to catch the bus.

I was fully prepared to roll over and bury my head in my pillows, hoping to somehow block out the horrifically vivid memories of the night before, but an odd sound met my ears. It was the dull thunk of a heavy object making contact with something. I thought of just ignoring it, but it sounded again, not thirty seconds after the first time.

Grumbling under my breath, I sat up against my headboard to squint around my room. My first guess was my phone, but it was sitting silently on my bedside table. I didn’t have any pets, so I couldn’t pin the noise on a creeping animal either.

It was as I sighed, shoving hair messily away from my face, that I heard it again. This time, though, I’d been facing the window. The sight and sound of a stone hitting the glass was unmistakeable.

For a moment I just stared at the window incredulously. I wasn’t Megan fucking Fox – people weren’t exactly clamouring over themselves to throw stone at my window.

My dad snorted loudly from the next room when another stone hit the glass, this time harder.

I scrambled from my bed, tripping over a discarded shoe and hobbling painfully towards the window. I’d just opened the latch and swung the it open when another missile came flying through the air. Even on the best of days, I wasn’t all that quick, so I had no hope in hell of dodging it on a Sunday morning. I now had a sharp pain in the centre of my forehead to match the one in my toe.

“Shit, my bad!” called someone in a carrying whisper. It wasn’t so early that I didn’t recognise the voice instantly. I’d now been joined by the pain in my arse (figuratively, of course).

Unbelieving, I leant over the windowsill and gawped at the figure below.

If this were a chick flick, I would swoon on the spot while the person below declared their undying love for me, looking remarkably handsome and charming in the morning light.

As I may have already established, my life was in no way, shape or form a chick flick. Oli just stared at me and, to be honest, he looked like crap. He was wearing the same jeans from the night before, moulded too tight to his legs, and his t-shirt was wrinkled and stained with God knows what. His hair was a nest atop his head, while the puffy skin around his bloodshot eyes indicated he’d not actually been to bed yet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded. I wasn’t about to swoon any time soon.

“Uh, throwing rocks at your window?” He pulled a face that suggested he thought I was an absolute idiot.

“Why?” I hissed.

“I dunno. Isn’t this shit supposed to be romantic?”

“You don’t have a romantic bone in your body!” I pointed out.

“That’s just categorically untrue!’ Oli retorted, looking slightly wounded as he pouted. I rolled my eyes. He may have looked like a romantic type of guy, but since I’d been the one to receive an iTunes gift voucher for our first anniversary, I knew him to be about as romantic as a slug.

“Go away!” I called out, thankful that my parents were pretty deep sleepers. “I don’t even know why the fuck you came here.”

“I’m not leavin’ ‘til yeh talk to me.” He had a look on his face that indicated he meant business, but at that moment in time I really didn’t give a flying fuck.

“We talked plenty after you came home from tour. Remember that?” I knew I’d hit a nerve, because his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

“I remember a fuck load of shoutin’, but we never actually talked.”

“That’s because I have nothing else to say to you. In case my lack of communication in the last three weeks didn’t get it through your thick skull, we’re over! Now go home.”

“Please.” It was barely a whisper, but the sound of his plea carried in the early morning calm. I froze halfway through ducking back inside, my hands clenching the window frame hard. Oli didn’t say ‘please’. Ever. He never pleaded for anything, just like he never apologised for anything. If shit was meant to come to you, it would. Just like when crap happened, it was better to just get over it than apologise.

Moving slowly, I stuck my head back out the window. “What did you say?”

Oli shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, his face twisted as though he’d tasted something bitter. “Don’t make me say it again, Gracie.”

I frowned, but my heart wasn’t in it. “I told you not to call me that,” I muttered. He just shrugged.

“Will yeh just come down so I can talk to yeh? I swear to fucking God, yeh can tell me to piss off after I’m done. Just… just come down, yeah?”

I’d only ever seen Oli look pathetic once before in my life, and that had been three weeks ago. But I’d been screaming at him then, and punching every available inch of skin I could find. Right then, standing below my window with a wild look in his eyes, he was truly pathetic. I sighed, licking my lips nervously.

“Wait there.”

I grabbed a hoody on the way downstairs, slipping it over my head. The soft snores emanating from my parents’ room let me know I was in no danger of being caught, but I still tiptoed across the landing, my bare feet silent against the hardwood.

The front door didn’t make a sound as I slipped it open, since the hinges had been oiled just last week. My mum had been complaining bitterly that she felt like she was walking into a haunted house every time she came home, so my dad had oiled the damn thing just to shut her up.

Oli was waiting for me at the end of my driveway, perched on the brick wall beside our gate. He didn’t look up as I approached, but I saw him wipe the palms of his hands against his jeans. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d say he was nervous. But as far as I knew, I’d never made him nervous in my life. He was always completely sure of himself - from asking me out, to our first kiss, to the first time we slept together, he’d remained confident around me. I suppose he’d never had a reason to doubt my feelings for him. Now, it seemed he did.

“You woke me up at six am just to sit on my wall?” I asked coldly, crossing my arms over my chest, as he continued to stare at the pavement beneath his feet. It was cool and damp beneath mine, letting me know it had, in fact, rained the night before. Everything was coated in layer of moisture, and a fine mist hung in the air around is.

“No, I’m just tryin’ to think.”

I chewed on my tongue, fighting a wave of irritation. “Okay then, I’ll just leave you to your thoughts.”

I turned away from him, not really expecting him to let me go, but still shocked when he grabbed hold of my arm. “Wait,” was all he said.

His touch was warm even through the thick material of my hoody, but it didn’t provide comfort in the cool morning. I ripped my arm from his grasp and span to face him, scowling. “Don’t touch me.”

He looked hurt for a moment, his eyes widening pitifully, but then he schooled his expression and sighed. “Can we… go somewhere that isn’t the bottom of your drive? Somewhere more private?”

The last thing I wanted was to be somewhere private with him. As last night proved, privacy and Oli Sykes did not yield happy results for me.

“I’m in my pajamas,” I pointed out, but wished I hadn’t when his eyes flickered over the bare stretch of leg my shorts revealed. I stifled a shiver.

“Just your back garden then?” He bargained, licking his lips nervously. “C’mon, Gracie. You know I’m not gonna leave yeh alone ‘til yeh talk to me.” He had a point; Oli was nothing if not persistent.

Shaking my head, I turned once more. But I didn’t head for my door like I think he was expecting me to, instead winding my way round the my dad’s car to our side gate, which led to the relative privacy of our back garden. Unlike my front door, the gate squeaked loudly as I jimmied it open. It had stiffened through disuse and a lack of maintenance, since we always used the door that led from the kitchen to the garden.

The first thing I noticed was that the grass was sopping wet beneath my toes, causing me to wrinkle my nose in distaste. I hated having anything between my toes, whether it be water, sand or grass.

Oli gazed round at the overgrown bushes and grass with a fond expression, a gentle smile on his lips. “I missed this place,” he sighed.

My only response was a grunt, but my heart flipped over in my chest. During our two-year relationship, my garden had been a sort of sanctuary for us. The way some of the trees were positioned, there was a small patch of grass at the back that was completely hidden from sight. This came in unbelievably handy when we needed some alone time away from the prying eyes of friends and parents. I couldn’t count how many nights we’d spent outside lying on that ragged patch of grass, talking and laughing, exchanging surprisingly sweet kisses, or just staring silently at the stars. It was this patch of grass Oli seemed to be staring in the direction of, a sad look etched over his features.

“You done thinking?” He blinked, turning his head at my question. I frowned and looked away from his stare, busying myself with perching on the wooden bench. My message was loud and clear: we were going nowhere near that patch of grass. Moisture permeated the thin material of my shorts immediately, but I could deal with a wet arse a hell of a lot more than I could the look Oli was giving me, so I kept my perch on the hard surface and stared resolutely at the dull brown fence bordering my property.

“Y’know, I’ve always loved seein’ you when you’ve just woke up.” My eyes snapped to him, surprised. Oli didn’t say shit like this. He just wasn’t that guy. “Your eyes are always all glazed, makeup smudged round them. And don’t get me started on your hair.” He chuckled to himself quietly. “Only bird I know who can look fucking stunning with your hair all over the place. You’re always grumpy as fuck, too.” He stopped laughing then, and frowned down at the grass beneath his much-abused Vans. “I loved bein’ the one to see yeh like that. Still do.”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, fighting against a rising tide of tears even as my heart swelled in my chest. “Why are you telling me this?” I forced out. “What good will it do now that we’re finished?”

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “I’m tellin’ yeh now ‘cause I should have been tellin’ yeh for years. These past three weeks… I’ve been goin’ over all the stupid shit I should have told yeh, but never did. I realised that I need to tell yeh now. Yeh need to know how much yeh mean to me, Gracie.”

“Meant,” I corrected, closing my eyes. “How much I meant to you. I stopped meaning anything to you the moment you fucked that groupie.” It hurt to say it, to admit what had tore my heart in two, but if he was suddenly going to start spouting shit, then I was sure as hell going to join in.

“Grace-”

“No!” I protested, opening my eyes. “We’ve been over all this shit already. I said all I needed to, and apparently now you have too. You can go now.” I nodded to the gate we’d only recently come in through, clasping my hands together tightly. My nails dug into my flesh painfully, but it was a welcome the distraction from the ache in my heart.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said firmly, closing the distance between us. I watched him warily, but he only squatted in front of me, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were hard and resolute, but they were also warm as they met mine. “I’m sick of runnin’ away from this. I stayed away for three weeks. I stayed away ‘cause I thought you needed space. I didn’t know…” His eyes closed briefly, a frown marring the smooth expanse of his forehead. “When Curtis came to tell me yeh were with some bloke-”

“Curtis ratted me out?” I squeaked incredulously. Of all of our friends, Curtis was the least likely to stick his nose into anyone’s business. He prided himself on being a neutral party; the one you went to when you wanted honest advice, not a comforting pat on the head.

“Thought I should know, I suppose. ‘E knew I was just bidin’ my time. I never thought you’d bring someone to that party. I mean, I’d been hopin’ you’d show so I could try and talk to yeh, but when I found out…” His fists clenched into tight balls on his knees, and his nostrils flared warningly.

“We’re over, Oli. I’m allowed to move on. It took me a hell of a lot longer than it did you, anyway. At least I could keep it in my pants while we were still in a fucking relationship.” I’ll admit, I was baiting him. I wanted him to get angry and leave, like he had last time, so I wouldn’t have to face this conversation. So I wouldn’t have to face him.

“Yeh never gave me a chance to explain myself,” Oli stated lowly, looking like he was trying hard to remain calm.

“What’s there to explain?” I shrugged in faux-casual move, sneering. “You felt like a good fuck, and I wasn’t there. Couldn’t wait a few more days, could you? While I was sitting at home, waiting for you, and oh-so proud because you lot finally landed yourselves a tour, you were fucking some tramp in the back of the van.” I’d said it all before, but the words pierced me as though for the first time. Tears I couldn’t stop rolled down my cheeks and dropped from my chin, landing on the material of my hoody in dark splotches.

A pained expression flitted across Oli’s face, and he reached out a hand. I don’t know what his intention was, but I slapped it away before he could get any closer. “Don’t touch me.”

Sighing, he sank back so that he was sitting on the grass at my feet, apparently uncaring that it was soaking wet. He rested his elbows against his bent knees and placed his head in his hands.

“You have no idea how much I hate myself for hurting you. Jesus, Grace, I’d rather lose a fucking limb than hurt you like that.” His voice was oddly thick, and when he slowly raised his head, I saw that there was a glossy sheen to his eyes I’d never seen before.

I’d never seen Oli Sykes cry. In year nine, when his granddad died, he never cried. He was melancholy for a week, but never shed a single tear. When his dog, Alfie, was hit by a car and had to be put down last year, he’d held the beloved pet until he breathed his last, but he’d never cried. The idea that he could be close to tears now was foreign to me.

“It’s been fuckin’ misery, these past few weeks.”

I said the only thing that sprang to mind; “Good.”

He gave a watery chuckle and sucked in a few shaky breaths. “I deserve that. I know I do.”

“Do you know who I heard it from, Oli?”

“What?” He frowned.

“Do you know who told me you’d screwed another chick behind my back?”

He shook his head slowly. This was one little deal I’d never revealed to him.

“Lexie Cunningham. I didn’t hear it from my boyfriend, or even one of my close friends; I heard it from the school fucking gossip. Everyone was talking about it behind my back, you know. I don’t know how they found out in the first place. Can you imagine what it’s like to have everyone but you know? To see them whispering and pointing but not know why, until the school gossip takes pity on you and tells you your boyfriend’s a cheating arsehole,” I spat out bitterly, my breathing heavy.

He looked appalled as he shoved a hand roughly through his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“You should have been the one to tell me, Oli.”

“I know, I fuckin’ know. I was goin’ to. I was gonna explain what happened – why I did it. I called you, remember? Asked you to meet me. I was goin’ to tell you,” he swore.

“Well, Lexie beat you to it, didn’t she?”

He didn’t seem to hear me. In a flash, he was scrambling to his knees, so that he was now kneeling before me, his face closer to mine that I would have liked. “I was gonna tell you, I swear. I thought that if I explained…”

“Explained what, exactly?”

“That I was out of my fucking mind!” He exploded, throwing his hands up in the air. “I hadn’t seen you in a fucking month, Grace. I was goin’ to in a few days, I know, and I was so fucking delirious. But then there was a party, and… Christ, I got hammered. Really fucked up. I couldn’t even see straight. Before I knew what was happening, she was kissing me. All I could remember thinking was, God, this chick looks like Grace. I just lost it. When I woke up, I thought I’d imagined it.” Tears were leaking from his eyes now, making tracks down his cheeks. “I thought it was some fucked up nightmare. The chick wasn’t anywhere to be seen. But then I found the guys, and they started laying into me big-time. I didn’t know what to do. They were telling me I had to tell you, that you’d find out somehow if I didn’t. And I was going to as well, as soon as we got back. But then I saw you, and I was so fucking happy to be with you. I kept putting it off, and the guys kept laying into me… but I swear, Gracie, I swear to God I was going to tell you.”

He looked so pitiful, with tears running from his bloodshot eyes, that I didn’t even question that he was being honest. I remembered well those few days after he returned from tour, right before my world had come crashing down around my feet. Him and the guys had been acting weird, but I just assumed they’d sort themselves out. I’d told myself that they just needed time to adjust after tour. It didn’t occur to me to be worried about my relationship with Oli, because he’d been more attentive and loving than he ever had in the past.

I’d thought he missed me just as much as I missed him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I could take it back. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t even go on tour. I’d stay here, and then we’d still be happy. Just tell me how to fix this.”

I couldn’t deal with seeing him like this. This wasn’t the Oli I knew; the Oli I loved was cocky and sarcastic. He let nothing and no one hurt him, and he knew how to get what he wanted. He didn’t say sorry, and he didn’t regret a thing, dumb or not.

I slid off the bench so that I was kneeling in front of him, echoing his stance. “You can’t fix this, Oli,” I whispered. “I can’t forget what you did.”

He crumpled. There was no other way to describe it; he just slumped to the ground completely, his head bent forwards while he cried.

Hesitantly, I reached out a quaking hand. His sobs ceased when I laid a hand on his cheek, using my other to wipe away my own tears. “I can’t forget, but give me time.” A spark of hope ignited in his eyes, and he raised his head. “I believe you’re sorry, I really do. Give me time, and I might be able to forgive you. We’ve got a lot of shit to sort out, but I guess… I guess I still want to be with you.”

“Seriously?” His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

I nodded once, offering him a tired smile. “Seriously.”

He leant forwards, his forehead resting against my collarbone. “I love you so much,” he murmured as I wound my arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. He smelt like beer and cigarette smoke, but beneath it all he still smelt like my memories.

“I love you too, you dick.” My words had the desired affect of making him laugh, albeit weakly. His head lifted, a long sigh leaving his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

I eyed him warily, but shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Do you like that guy you were with yesterday?”

I laughed incredulously, thinking he was joking. But there was a serious light in his eyes, and no hint of a smile curved his lips.

“Oli, I just told you I love you. How can I like another guy?” I shook my head. “Besides, he was fucking boring. Too nice.”

Oli seemed please, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Good. I thought I might have had to beat the shit out of him.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Of course.”

“What, yeh don’t think I could? ‘Cause I could totally take-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips gently to his. It was different from the night before, because it was sweet rather than steamy. It was gentle rather than hard, and it was filled with hope rather than desperation.

Somewhere over our heads, my father called out in a voice that carried perfectly well into the garden, “Sue, I thought you said those two broke up? They’re doing a shit job of it if they have, ‘cause they’re snogging in the garden.”

I broke away from Oli, blushing, and looked up. My dad was hanging out of the window, looking confused. A moment later, he was shoved out of the way with a yelp, and my mum’s face replaced his.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Maybe I was more like her than I knew. “Again? Really?”

“Maybe,” I called up. “Fresh starts and all that.” All I knew was that I wasn’t going to throw away what we had for a drunken mistake, no matter how stupid. It was like Oli always said, shit happens. You just have to move on.

For a moment I thought she was going to yell at us, but then she smiled. “It’s too bloody early for this.” With that said, she popped her head back inside and shut the window firmly.

Oli and I just blinked at each other for a few seconds, identical grins growing on our faces.

The moment was perfect, like something straight out of a movie. Birds were chirping at annoying decibels, the sun was shining brightly, and it wasn’t even that cold any more. My life may not have been a chick flick, but at that moment it certainly felt like one. It still hurt to look at Oli, and I knew it would take me a while to completely forgive him, even if I didn’t ever forget, but time was something we had plenty of. And while I was with him, it felt like everything would be ok again.

Of course, I could count on Oli to ruin the moment.

“If you tell anyone I cried, you are dead meat.”