Page 28 of Save Me

“Have you spoken to Dad?” she asks cautiously.

I shake my head and look out of the window, just at the moment that the Rolls-Royce comes to a stop. The façade of our house—practically a stately home—towers over us, the dark sky hung with heavy clouds, a reflection of both my mood and what lies ahead of me.

“How would you describe me in three words?” Alistair asks over the music thumping from my sound system. He’s sitting on the sofa, huddled over his phone, his blond curls falling into his face, and looks up aslant at me over the screen.

I’ve been mixing us each a gin and tonic and bring the glasses over to the sofa. Not looking up, Alistair holds out his hand and takes one.

We’re on our third now, and I’m finally getting the fuzzy feeling in my head that I’ve been waiting for the whole time. Now I can forget that the others are at lacrosse training. And above all, it suppresses the memory of the last two hours. My father’s voice has faded to a dull whisper.

“How about ‘highly oversexed bitch’?”

Alistair grins. “Very true. But modesty will probably get better results.”

I drop onto the sofa beside him with a laugh. I can’t shake offthe feeling that he’d had a drink or two already when I texted to ask if he wanted to come over. Apparently, he’s not quite as unfazed about being suspended from the team as he’s letting on.

Either way, he burst into my sitting room and announced that he’s going to steer clear of Maxton Hall guys from now on and have a closer look at “that online dating shit.” His broad grin suggested that he didn’t mean it entirely seriously and that he’s only setting up a profile because he’s bored.

But I know him well enough to know that it’s more than just a joke. He’s had it with Maxton Hall guys because they’ll only make out with him in secret. Unlike most of them, Alistair’s been out for two years now—much to the displeasure of his arsehole parents, who practically cut him off.

If he finds someone online who doesn’t make him feel like a guilty secret, I’m all for it. Especially as I could really do with a distraction from my own problems right now.

“Does it have to be exactly three words?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Then…‘nice guy, lacrosse, sport, seeking hot dates, blah-blah.’ ”

He grins crookedly. “Blah-blah, right.”

I slide over to him slightly, spilling some of my G&T out of my glass and over my hand. I swear and wipe it off on my jeans, then look at Alistair’s phone. His draft profile makes me laugh out loud.

“What?” he demands.

“Liar! You’re nowhere near six-foot-one.”

He sniffs. “I am.”

“I’m a bit over six-foot, and you’re at least two inches shorter than me, bro. Take four inches off that and you’ll be closer.”

He digs his elbow in my ribs and more booze lands on my fingers. “Spoilsport.”

“OK, OK.” I take three big swigs from my glass and put it down on the table. Then I pick up my laptop off the coffee table, open it, and start searching for vaguely reasonable profiles.

Inviting Alistair over was just what I needed. He got his driver to bring him round right away and since then, he’s done nothing but take my mind off things—and not asked a single question.

“Oh, God,” I murmur.

Alistair makes an inquiring sound, bending over to look at the screen.

I turn the laptop toward him slightly. “I was looking for inspiration for your profile description, but I wish I’d never clicked on that link now. Seriously, who writes ‘In an ideal world, I’d get with my twin, but as I’m an only child, you’ll have to do’?”

Alistair hoots with laughter. “I can’t be arsed anymore. I’ll just put ‘18, lacrosse, open to everything.’ ”

“Nah, mate,” I say, shaking my head. “ ‘Open to everything’ is just asking for dodgy messages.”

He just shrugs. A minute or two later, he adds, not looking up from his phone, “Elaine was asking how you were.”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t answer. This is the first time Alistair’s broached the subject since Wren’s party, and I can’t tell from his voice whether or not this is a serious conversation.

“She’s worried about your young, fragile heart and wanted to know if you still think about her often.”

OK, definitely not serious then.

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