‘Did you kiss him back, though?’
‘I can’t really remember. It was over before I realised it was happening.’
‘Hmm. But if it hadn’t have been, would you have kissed him back?’
I scrunched my face up. ‘Not really relevant. It wasn’t that type of a kiss.’
‘Nonsense.’ She arched her eyebrow. ‘That was not a nothing-much kiss. You don’t get to pass it off as no big deal.’
‘It was a carried-away-in-the-moment kiss. If you’d been standing there, he would have kissed you, instead.’
Even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true.
‘If he’d kissed me like that, he’d have found a knee in his crotch,’ Connie replied, wryly. ‘Which leads me to draw the conclusion that, given he wasn’t rolling around in agony, you were down for kissing him back.’
‘Okay, I didn’t hate the kiss. But—’
‘No!’ Connie cried. ‘No but!’
‘But,’ I repeated, with emphasis. ‘I live with Elliot. He’s my twin’s best friend. We have a whole load of complicated history. However nice that kiss might have been, it can’t happen again. And, as my friend, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Even Isaac.EspeciallyIsaac.’
Connie grudgingly agreed.
‘Now, while we’re on the topic, what about you and Martin Wodger? Any kisses been going on there?’
* * *
I was fully expecting the next few days to be torture, Elliot and I skulking around each other avoiding any mention of what had happened, as per the Jessica Brown standard guide to dealing with awkward moments. However, I’d forgotten that Elliot had his own guide, based on an inability to be anything other than honest and open.
He found me the next day, at the picnic, while I was lurking about near Connie and Martin. Isaac was currently dealing with an unusually nasty mess in the bride’s bathroom, but my twin senses were tingling and I knew he was planning something.
‘Jessie, could we have a quick conversation about what happened yesterday?’
My stomach flipped right over.
‘I wanted to apologise. For… for kissing you. It was completely unacceptable and I feel terrible. I could explain how it was the elation of the moment, poor impulse control, blah, blah, blah, but that’s no excuse. If you want to… report me. Find somewhere else to live. Whatever you think is best.’ He dared a quick glance, and the misery in those eyes that always told me everything, convinced me that I had to be honest. With myself, as well as him.
‘Elliot, it wasn’t just you kissing me. I kissed you, too.’
‘Really?’ He looked properly at me then, eyes round with shock.
‘Yes. Really. So, I’m also sorry. It was inappropriate and almost certainly against tournament rules and it won’t happen again.’
‘Right.’ Elliot nodded. He swallowed, hard. The air shifted between us, growing heavy with expectation, like the atmosphere right before a storm.
‘Just to clarify,’ he asked, carefully. ‘Do you mean it won’t happen again in an inappropriate, football-related situation, but could potentially happen if circumstances were different?’ He stopped to clear his throat. ‘Or, would you prefer it not to happen again, ever?’
It felt as though every last whisp of oxygen in the garden had evaporated.
‘I… that would… it doesn’t just depend on…’ Then I stopped, frozen in horror, as over Elliot’s shoulder I saw Isaac stride right up to where Connie and Martin were sitting a few metres away, with a face that made my heart screech to a stop.
‘Connie.’
Elliot, noticing my stricken expression, turned to see what was happening.
‘Isaac, hi.’ Connie sat up straighter, clearly disconcerted by his demeanour. ‘This is Martin, Wodger’s dad. Wodger plays for the Harriers.’
‘Yes, hello. I know Martin. We were in the same scout pack. If you don’t mind, Martin, I need to talk to Connie.’
