Chapter 6

I’m not holding out for a text, Scarlett lied.

Quick note before you enter Scarlett’s world - given this crazy thing called chronology, I recommend starting with chapter 1 (wild I know)!!

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Scarlett was sat with Ivy and her girl gang in the same living room they had danced and taken shots in the night before. While some effort had been made to clean the place, every surface still felt sticky and the smell of tequila lingered. It was making Scarlett slightly nauseous.

She politely declined the cup of English Breakfast tea offered to her by Tilda, Ivy’s housemate, fearful the mugs contained remnants of cigarette butts. Besides, Scarlett didn’t like English Breakfast tea anyway.

The morning had been spent in bed with Albie, their conversation ranging between favorite authors and deepest insecurities. Nothing seemed off limits. They played with vulnerability in a way which was terrifyingly exposing yet somehow comforting. When she was with him it was as if the rest of the world – the external pressures, other peoples’ opinions, social hierarchies – didn’t exist. They let one another see past the ingrained layers of facades they presented to everyone else.

When the time had approached 11am, Scarlett announced to her one-person audience that she was off to Ivy’s, knowing that Albie had to go meet Miles. He persevered in describing how to get there, despite her telling him she wasn’t listening and would instead use this thing called Google Maps. She teased him for being old in light of the two-year age gap. Up until the moment she walked out of the front door, he kissed her. Scarlett had no idea what the hell that meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

Her replay of the morning was suddenly interrupted by a question from Tilda. “Scarlett are you wearing the same clothes as last night?” she asked. “Zero judgement, it’s an outfit I fully intend to borrow.”

“And whose jumper is that?” Priyanka, another housemate, added.

“Maybe,” Scarlett said in response to Tilda. “Although, it’s unrepresentative of my lifestyle given I’ve slept in my clothes a total of probably three times in the 25 years I’ve existed.”

Scarlett hadn’t slept in her clothes at all – she’d slept naked in Albie’s arms. As for the jumper, that question could be ignored for the time being. She really didn’t want to be having this conversation with her sister’s friends who all knew Albie tangentially through the incestuous nature of London’s social circles.

Ivy was silent. Without even looking at one another, both sisters knew the other wanted to speak without the company of Ivy’s flat mates.

“I need to shower,” Ivy declared. She didn’t really. Well, Scarlett thought she probably did but knew her sister was using the whole shower thing as an excuse to talk in private. “Scar, can you come keep me company?”

Upstairs, they lay on Ivy’s bed, staring at the celling. “Tell me about last night,” Ivy instructed.

“No, last night was about you not me,” Scarlett insisted. “Besides, there’s honestly not much to share about my night.” A total lie – Scarlett could have written a novel about the past 12 hours.

Ivy rubbed her eyes and made a slightly pained face. She had many talents in life – hiding unease had certainly never been one of them, at least not as far as her younger sister was concerned. The insecure people pleaser in Scarlett felt a familiar prang of anxiety.

“It was more of the same. We danced, got absolutely hammered on tequila and ended up going clubbing. Probably not worth it, but whatever. I also drunk texted Theo.”

Scarlett was in awe of the relaxed demeanor with which Ivy conveyed this information. Had she drunk texted a boy herself, she’d be busy planning her own exceptionally tasteful funeral. Theo and Ivy had dated for a while. She ultimately broke up with him for no reason other than because she wasn’t quite falling in love.

“What did you say to Theo?”

“I asked him what he was up to.”

“What did you want out of it?” A very Scarlett question.

“I didn’t really think it through.” A very Ivy response.

“Has he responded, and do you care? Are you embarrassed?”

Ivy sighed. She clearly wasn’t in the mood for Scarlett’s line of questioning. “No, he hasn’t responded. He probably will later but I don’t care that much.”

“Who went clubbing?” Scarlett got the hint to move the conversation onwards.

“The classic group.” Ivy paused, as if she was trying to remember something. “Oh, Grace came – I think she may have been trying to get with Miles.”

Scarlett wondered what Albie and Miles were talking about on their way to lunch – whether Albie had mentioned her, how much detail he had gone into, what questions Miles asked, how Albie answered. Boys being boys, they probably hadn’t even touched the subject.

As if reading her mind, Ivy said with some degree of impatience, “now can you please fill me in on Albie.”

Scarlett felt a wave of nerves. “His parents’ house is nearby, so we went back there.”

She was cautious not to sound too excited. Her deep-rooted fear of rejection when it came to boys meant there was immense shame associated with admitting feelings. In Scarlett’s mind, appearing indifferent meant it would be less embarrassing if the guy she was into didn’t reciprocate.

“I think I actually knew he lived in Notting Hill.”

“He made me pasta because he thought I was drunk. We spoke about life, we kissed, we slept together and I stayed. This morning he went to the Cotswolds with Miles, so I came here.”

“How do you feel?”

“Is it weird to say relieved?”

“You are allowed to feel how you feel.” Ivy turned her head towards Scarlett. “But what do you mean by relieved?”

“I was embarrassed he was on my mind so much after New York. I maybe even gaslit myself into thinking he felt absolutely nothing for me – that I’d made up the connection. Albie wanting to sleep with me a second time makes it less likely he regrets sleeping with me the first time.”

A mixture of anger and sadness was painted on Ivy’s face. The anger unsettled Scarlett and the sadness made her feel guilty. This was precisely why she preferred not to explore her emotions in real time with her sister. It meant she filtered her unhinged stream of consciousness less successfully and often found herself unintentionally alarming Ivy.

“Scarlett, of course he doesn’t regret it. You didn’t make up the connection and you’ve got to stop thinking you’re worth so little. Like I keep saying, you can’t read into the fact he didn’t text, and he probably won’t this time.”

Classic Ivy. Compassionate yet brutal.

“I know, you’re right. Do you think it was a mistake?”

“It’s not about what I think. It’s fun to live life and do these things – you deserve to. I just worry you’ll want something you can’t have, and I worry about him messing with your feelings.”

It’s a little late for that, Scarlett thought to herself.

“When does he fly back to New York?” Ivy asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up that you’ll see him tonight. He will probably be with his family or has some other plan given it’s his last night in London.”

Scarlett knew Ivy was right but still felt an irrational wince of anger towards her sister. Ivy was fiercely protective over Scarlett, especially with boys. She knew Scarlett was a dreamer and felt things deeply. It shattered her each time she saw Scarlett disappointed.

“I know, I’m not holding out for a text,” Scarlett lied.

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Z x