All About Us. Tom Ellen

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СКАЧАТЬ armpit. And even though I feel sick with guilt about Alice finding me and Daff together, I’m still thrumming with the exhilaration of that kiss. I can’t help it. It’s all coming back to me now: the way I felt at this moment, fifteen years ago. The ballooning sense of excitement in my stomach. The tingly feeling that this might be the start of something really good. The absolute certainty that there was no way in hell I could wait the whole Christmas holidays before I saw Daphne again.

      Finally, after what seems like centuries, the last person finds us and the game comes to an end. We all scramble out of the hedge, and start traipsing back out of the maze. I lag behind, right at the back of the pack, trying to figure out what I’ll say to Alice when I get out.

      But it turns out I don’t need to worry. By the time I step out of the maze, Marek is already leading the charge back towards the bar for last orders. Everyone is staggering drunkenly after him, and I can’t see Alice anywhere. I linger by the maze’s entrance and watch the bodies disappear into the night, terrified that Daphne might have disappeared with them …

      Then, suddenly, she’s right beside me in the darkness.

      ‘Not sure I’m up for another drink,’ she says.

      ‘No, me neither.’

      ‘So …’ I feel her hand brush gently against mine. ‘I guess this is goodnight, then …’

      The first time around, it was. We were still surrounded by people, so we just exchanged a brief, awkward ‘See you later’, and then I headed off for one last beer, before stumbling back to my room to lie wide awake in bed, reliving the memory of that kiss.

      But this time, I don’t want the night to end. I still can’t make head or tail of what is happening, but I know for absolute certain that I don’t want Daphne to leave.

      ‘Do you want to …’ I begin. But I can’t think of a way to add ‘come back to mine’ without sounding like a massive sleazebag.

      Daff must pick up on this dilemma, because she tilts her head at me playfully. ‘Not-Naked Ben, are you asking me back to your room?’

      I laugh. ‘Well, yeah. But for entirely innocent reasons, I promise.’

      She still looks dubious – which is fair enough, really. I don’t know how to communicate that I am actually telling the truth. As amazing and electrifying as that kiss was, the idea of us going any further honestly hasn’t crossed my mind. I just want more time with her – with this Daphne. This happy, funny, carefree girl who is so different from the woman I live with in 2020. I want to get to know her all over again.

      ‘A cup of tea,’ I say. ‘That’s all, I swear. If you fancy it?’

      She sizes me up with her big brown eyes. And then that amazing smile spreads across her face. ‘OK, yeah. I could murder a cup of tea, actually.’

      We wind our way slowly back to my hall of residence. And with every step, I can feel the excitement rising in my chest. Daff loops her arm through mine and shoots me a grin that makes me think she’s feeling the exact same thing.

      But then we get to the entrance, and I come face to face with a bulky locked door, and a numbered entry panel beside it.

      ‘Oh. Shit.’

      My heart sinks right into the pit of my stomach.

      ‘What?’ Daphne asks.

      For the hell of it, I punch in 1-2-3-4. No joy. We could be here a while.

      ‘How drunk are you?’ Daff laughs. ‘Can you really not remember your own door code?’

      ‘No, hang on, don’t worry … It’ll come to me …’

      But obviously it won’t. I’m about to pull my phone out and see if Harv is still awake when I hear someone shout ‘WAHEY!’ at a deafening volume behind me.

      I turn around to see Geordie Claire standing there, grinning drunkenly, with her massive rugby player boyfriend next to her. Both of them smell strongly of tequila and chilli sauce.

      ‘Hey, Ben!’ Claire slurs, dragging me into a wobbly hug. ‘So, we both really enjoyed your play. Really, really, really. It was very, erm … original.’

      ‘Yeah, top work, mate,’ says her boyfriend, whose name escapes me. ‘You were … great.’

      ‘He was, wasn’t he?’ Daff nods, somehow managing to keep a straight face. ‘He’s a natural hitman.’

      Claire punches in the entrance code, and we all troop up the stairs together. We say goodnight to the two of them at the end of the corridor, and as we do, I find my voice dropping automatically to a whisper. It’s not even half eleven – still early for a freshers’ dorm on the last night of term – but I’m suddenly keenly aware of the fact that Alice’s room is right next door to mine. I have no idea whether she went on to the bar with the others, or whether she’s in there right now, just one paper-thin wall away from us.

      By some miracle, my room key is in the pocket of the jeans I was wearing when I woke up, so I let Daff in before heading into the kitchen to make the tea. I flick the kettle on and stare at it hard, willing it to boil faster. I don’t know how long we’ll have together tonight – I have no idea if I’ll find myself back in 2020 at any moment – so I want to make the most of every second here.

      Once the kettle’s boiled, I dart straight back to my room with the two steaming mugs to find Daff kneeling on my bed, peering closely at the bookshelf next to it. I spent hours arranging that bookshelf in preparation for precisely this moment: a hot girl peering closely at it. It was chock full of wilfully obscure, borderline unreadable paperbacks, all designed to make me look much deeper and more intellectual than I actually was.

      I feel a little shiver of exasperation at my try-hard teenage self as I hand Daff her cup of tea.

      ‘Here you go,’ I say. ‘Milk, one sugar.’

      She wrinkles her brow. ‘How did you know?’

      ‘I, er … Lucky guess.’

      ‘Very lucky. So, you’re doing English, right?’

      ‘Yeah.’

      ‘Me too.’ She takes a sip from her mug. ‘Mmm, good tea.’ And then, with a little smile, she adds: ‘You know, I’ve actually seen you in lectures.’

      ‘Oh, really?’ I’d definitely never seen her before this evening.

      ‘Yeah. You and Marek,’ she says. ‘You always seem to be the last ones to arrive. The lecturer starts talking, then the door slams and everyone looks round, and you two come swanning in in your long flappy coats, looking like you’ve just got out of bed.’

      I can’t help laughing at the memory of it. ‘Oh God. We don’t mean to always be late,’ I start. ‘We just—’

      She interrupts me with a grin. ‘I reckon you both like the attention.’

      She’s right, of course. We loved it. God, we were a pair of knobs.

      It’s so weird, thinking back СКАЧАТЬ