Hello?”
“It’s me, darling.” Alice bit her lip, smiling as she heard Tristan’s lazy, mumbly voice. He sounded even better over the phone than in real life. “Can’t you see my name pop up when I call?”
“Yeah, yeah, I can.” Tristan glanced at Jasper von Holstadt and Tom Huntleigh, who were watching Spurs get thrashed by Man United, and reluctantly hauled himself up from the common-room sofa. Alice was giggling into his ear.
“Why do you pretend you don’t know who it is then? I think you should give me a special ringtone to remind you.”
“Huh? Remind me of what?” Tristan said, stretching.
“Are you listening to me?” Alice snapped. “If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”
“Hold on, of course I’m listening to you!” Tristan protested. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
When he heard this, Seb Ogilvy shifted round on the sofa and rolled his eyes. Alice, Alice, Alice—these days, she was always interrupting. After dinner the other evening, Tristan had confided in him about their night together, and in Seb’s opinion, the whole thing was bloody weird. Tristan caught his look.
What? he mouthed. He flicked Seb two fingers and walked out of the room. “Anyway, what are you doing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Alice’s voice oozed like honey through the phone.
Tristan grinned. “Wish you were here.”
“So do I. We’ve only got two more days till George’s though.”
Two more days. That reminded him. Tristan rubbed the back of his head. “About this weekend. I wanted to ask. Erm, maybe…”
“Go on, babe.”
“Well, you know how my parents are having my bedroom repainted…”
“Mmhmm.”
“How about I plan to stay at yours after George’s party? I can’t wait to have you alone and it might be our only chance for… you know… for weeks.”
Alice felt her palms turn clammy. “Oh. Yeah.” She swallowed. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? She blinked, realizing she’d been staring at one of her posters on the opposite wall. It was of a painting called Olympia that she’d bought on a History of Art trip to Paris, showing a tarty naked woman lying on a bed. Alice sat up suddenly. “I’d have to let you know though. I need to check.”
“Check what?”
“With Mummy, silly. You know, in case we have guests.”
“But I wouldn’t have to sleep in any of the spare rooms. Dom’s girlfriends never do.”
“Okay, fine. Why are you turning this into a competition with my brother?”
“Competition?” Tristan frowned. “What are you on about?”
“I’m not on about anything. You’re the one who’s acting like a twelve-year-old.” Alice bit her lip. She knew she sounded like a mental case. “Anyway, better go. I have to take a shower.”
Tristan looked at his watch. It was four thirty in the afternoon. “You do that,” he told her. Unbelievable how moody she was being. It was probably that time of the month. “But seriously, Ali, let me stay with you in London. It’ll be amazing. I promise.”
Amazing? Alice thought. As amazing as it was with Dylan?
“Don’t you want to?” Tristan urged
“Hmm? Sorry? You’re cutting out. See you on the weekend,” Alice said, gripping her phone. “Gotta go. Bye.”
The connection went dead. Tristan looked at his screen pensively. The thought of being with Alice was what had kept him going over this last dull-as-hell week at school. But now he suddenly felt guilty, and he couldn’t work out what on earth he’d done wrong.