Page 41 of Plot Twist

‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ I quipped, standing up to head to bed for another night of pretending to sleep. ‘Good night, Riley O’Connell.’

‘Good night, Becca Taylor.’

17

The next morning, I lay under my bright yellow bedspread waiting for sounds of life from Riley. My head was pounding a little, my mouth felt dry, and I really needed to pee, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. Riley revelled in his Friday morning lie-ins and I didn’t want to wake him. Usually Ivy was up at the crack of dawn, with the cheeriest voice known to man, asking endless questions. He answered them all while fetching her breakfast, encouraging her to get dressed by herself before attempting to do her hair. I had taken over that job as soon as I’d seen his dismal attempt at pigtails.

He deserved a lie-in. So I crept around my room in my PJs, bundling all my dirty clothes into the corner before sitting down– carefully, to avoid any further bruising on my behind– on the bed to write.

I stared at the Word document on my laptop and read back the last thing I’d written inQueen Bee. The two girls, Anna and Rosie, were having a major argument, which led to Anna storming off to the side of the stage. Rosie’s cheeks burned as she was left standing alone, centre stage. I started writing the next scene when my phone pinged.

Riley:Are you alive?

I smiled. I’d missed Riley’s messages. We’d fired them back and forth constantly as friends, but now we were housemates, there was no need for the texts.

Me:No.

Riley:Shame. I’ll just have to eat all these freshly made pancakes by myself then.

I sniffed the air and, sure enough, there was some sort of deliciousness floating through it.

Me:Ah, what’s this? I’m ever-so-slowly coming back to life. Chocolate spread?

Riley:Hell yeah. I have a child, remember. Chocolate eating is her favourite sport.

Me:Mine too. Beats all that yoga nonsense. Extra strong coffee?

Riley:You knows it.

I pulled on my hoodie and dashed to the loo. As I was washing my hands, I checked my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a ghost, at best, verging on a zombie. The dark circles under my eyes threatened to expose my lack of sleep, so I dashed back to the room and quickly smeared on some foundation to disguise myself before heading out to the breakfast table.

‘Madame,’ Riley greeted me, standing up at one side of the kitchen table. ‘Breakfast is served. Take a seat.’

In the centre of the table lay a stack of pancakes, strawberries, butter, jam, chocolate spread and a steaming pot of coffee.

‘I’m literally in heaven right now,’ I declared, pouring the black coffee into a cup and inhaling its delicious smell.

‘I’m going to write my balls off today,’ Riley declared, spreading butter on his pancake. ‘Get this show on the road. My agent is pestering me. She sent me an email this morning with the subject heading “Wherefore art thou, Riley?” I didn’t want to point out that wherefore actually means “why” and not “where”. Although, why is a good question, too, I guess.’

‘Wherefore art thou such a literary geek?’ I replied, grabbing a pancake and knife to spread all the chocolatey goodness over it.

He sighed. ‘A geek would know what to write. I wish I could just write the way I did with my last novel. Leroy and Alice just kind of came to life on the page. It was like I wasn’t writing it at all, you know? They were tellingmetheir story. I just had to shut up, listen and write.’

‘I kind of know what you mean. My characters, Rosie and Anna, they’re constantly bickering. I feel like I’m in the middle of it, like I’m actually the referee instead of the writer.’

‘See, you do know! Other people don’t get it. When I talk to Bridget about my writing, she just tells me to get my head out of my arse and get a real job.’

‘She doesn’t mean it,’ I said, feeling more human with every sip of my warm coffee. ‘She is bursting with pride over her baby brother with his glittering writing career. Have you told her you’re struggling with your second book yet?’

‘I’m not struggling today,’ he vowed. ‘Told you, I’m going to write my balls off.’

I hoped that was the case.

‘I’m going to write in my room today,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind. I started and I’m kind of getting into it.’

I couldn’t tell Riley that he was distracting me, just by being him. I thought the more I got to know him, the less attracted I would be. But, the truth was, it was getting worse. His kindness wasn’t a one-off, he really was that nice. All the time. Plus, his jokes were gettingfunnier. Even his singing was starting to sound better, even though I knew deep down it was awful. Worse still, he was getting hotter. Every time he moved near me, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. If he spoke too closely to me, my lips pursed and I felt a shiver up my back. When he picked up the TV remote and asked if I wanted to watch a film, it was all I could do to stop myself from throwing myself at his mercy. And he was completely oblivious to it all. He could still function, quite clearly, in my presence.

I had to snap myself out of it to be useful to him on our writers’ retreat, but I’d been on a bit of a roll this morning. I gave myself a pat on the back for being so sensible and prioritising my writing career, as Riley shrugged back at me.