chapter three

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CHAPTER THREE


MAEVE


Less than a chapter in, Aimee has passed out, fallen into the most peaceful state I've ever seen her in. If my arms weren't numb, my right from holding the book above us to read in my dimly lit room, and the left from where I'm still holding her, I'd probably find it cute. Unfortunately, I'm unable to think about anything other than how fucking uncomfortable I am.

            "Aimes," I whisper, reluctant to move and disrupt her. "Aimee?"

            She mumbles inaudibly, hardly worth latching onto — except my arms feel disconnected from the rest of my body and I'm all kinds of desperate. I attempt a gentle shove and, to my relief, she rolls onto her side, just enough for my arm to tingle and slowly regain sensation. I wiggle and stretch out my fingers in front of me, watching the shadows they cast on the four walls.

            Next to me, Aimee snores faintly, making me smile. It also makes me jealous, led by my own, unofficial decision to fight the exhaustion and replace an extra, cherished hour in bed with copious amounts of bitter, black coffee on tap.

            One more day of school separates the students of Moordale for the two week break, by which time, Aimee and Steve might've worked things through, and I won't run the risk of coming out as bisexual to my best friend. Sexuality is one thing, but telling her of my deep-rooted realisation that I've been in love with her at the start of sixth form is another.

            School will soon be a vacant memory. Bittersweet for many. Finally, I won't be forced to wear a fake smile in front of Aimee for five days a fucking week and pretend that I'm happy her romantic endeavours when I have been here, pining for so long.

            Aimee's familiar, Northern accent cuts through the silence. "Maeve?" She croaks, half asleep. "Can you spoon me?"

            Forget butterflies. I'm feeling the whole goddamn zoo.

            My slim body moulds into hers comfortably. The instant she feels the warmth and pressure from my body, radiating against hers, she physically relaxes; each muscle releasing the heaviness it has carried for so long.

*

I might not manage to catch any more Z's but I'm happy — getting to hold Aimee in my arms, knowing she feels safe enough to snooze peacefully. Peacefully, that is, until the alarms on our phones chime sometime after 7am, forcing us to rise and get ready for the school day.

            Ten minutes behind schedule, I'm clumsily freshening up and brushing my teeth in the cramped bathroom; filling two thermal travel mugs with fragrant, freshly brewed coffee and scuttling out of the caravan. Aimee hurries behind. All I can think of, and dwell on, is the thought of her.

*

We rock up to my school just as the bell rings, signalling the beginning of form, fifteen minutes prior to assembly starting. We're falling through the main entrance and stumble through the eerily empty corridors, reading straight to reception.

            I clear my throat just loud enough to gain the attention of the newly-employed office staff. "Hi. We need two late passes, please."

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