One of the students sitting at the long oak bench turned, his dark hair falling in his eyes, and Hannah found her heart missing a beat. The glass of water on her dinner tray slid an inch to the left and she hastily righted it.
“April!” He stood up, swinging one long leg easily over the bench, and the two embraced in a sort of part hug, part continental kiss that was so deeply un-Dodsworth that Hannah felt more than ever as if she had landed on another planet. “Good to see you! I had no idea you were coming here.”
“Well, that’s Liv for you. Doesn’t tell people anything! How is she? I haven’t seen her since exams.”
“Oh…” The boy’s tanned face suddenly flushed, a streak of color high on his cheekbones. “We, well, we broke up. My fault, if I’m being honest. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” April purred. She ran a hand down the boy’s arm, squeezing his biceps in a way that was just the right side of teasing. “Another eligible man on the scene is nothing to be sorry about.”
Behind her, Hannah shifted. The tray she was holding was becoming uncomfortably heavy and her arms were starting to ache. April must have heard the movement because she turned and gave a slightly theatrical double take, seeming to remember Hannah’s presence for the first time since she’d spoken to Will.
“God, where are my manners? Will, this is Hannah Jones, my roommate. She’s studying Eng Lit. We’ve got a suite, don’tcha know, so I’ve got a feeling we’ll be hosting aaaall the parties this term. Hannah, this is Will de Chastaigne. I went to school with his ex. Our boarding schools were… what would you call it?” She turned back to Will. “Twinned?”
“Something like that.” A smile crinkled the tanned skin at the side of Will’s mouth. Hannah found herself staring up at him. He had clear brown eyes, dark brows, and his nose had clearly been broken, maybe more than once. Hannah’s mouth felt dry and she swallowed, trying to think what to say, but Will filled in the silence for her. “I went to Carne—all boys. So they paired us up for socials with April’s school to try to ensure we didn’t get to uni without having met a real live female.”
“No danger of that with you, darling,” April said. She took a swig of the chocolate milk on her tray, and then slid onto the bench beside Will without bothering to ask if she could. Will sat back down beside her.
“I was actually saving that seat, you know,” he said to April, but conversationally, not as if he expected her to move. Hannah, still standing, hesitated. There was a space opposite—but only one. Maybe Will wanted it for his missing friend? She looked at April, seeking a cue, but April was tapping away on her phone.
Hannah bit her lip, half turned away, and then Will spoke.
“Hey, don’t go, we’ll make room.”
Her heart flipped again. She smiled, trying not to look too pathetically grateful, as Will put his bag on the floor and nudged his neighbor up a few inches, making an extra space.
“Look, sit there.” He indicated the space opposite. “Hugh can squeeze in next to me and April.”
“Did you say… Hugh?” April’s head came up from her phone at that. There was an odd expression on her face, surprise, even delight, but mixed with a kind of mischievousness that Hannah couldn’t totally figure out. “Not… Hugh Bland?”
“The very same. Didn’t you know he was applying here?”
“I knew he was trying for Oxford, but I had no idea he’d picked Pelham,” April said. She put her phone down, and then a smile curved her lips as a tall, pale boy with heavy Stephen Hawking–style glasses came up to the table. “Well, well, well… speak of the devil.”
“April!” the boy said, and then, all at once, he stumbled, tripping over his own feet so that his tray lurched out of his hands, the pasta crashing to the floor.
There was a moment’s dead silence, every head in the place turned, and then one of the other boys at the table spoke up.
“Ey up, show’s over, everyone. Move along now.”
Hugh, though clearly mortified, laughed and gave a little self-conscious bow. His face was scarlet as he picked up his can of Coke and scooped up stray tortellini.
“Sorry. Such an ass.” His voice was muffled, but plainly what Hannah’s classmates would have called classic posh boy. “So sorry. Thank God it landed right way up. Mostly.”
He slid into the seat beside Will with the ruined plate of pasta, his cheeks still flaming, and picked up a fork.