Follow Me, Like Me Read online

  But . . . what if it gives me a clue about what’s going on?

  Plus, he accepted the friend request of someone he doesn’t know. He can’t mind about privacy that much. It’s not like I forced him to add me as a friend.

  I’m tapping at the screen when I accidentally swipe something, and my phone changes.

  Welcome to Snap

  Map!

  ______________

  Location access is required to use the

  Map.

  I blink.

  Does this . . . actually work?

  Within a few seconds, I’ve tapped through to the map. There’s a dark-haired male avatar several streets away. When I click on the avatar, I can clearly see the name Ren Moore.

  My feet stop moving.

  He’s two streets away from me. Just two streets.

  Shaking my head, I lock my phone screen. I should ignore this. I should keep walking and go straight home.

  So what if he’s sharing his location? He clearly doesn’t mean for me to see it. With my fake name, he doesn’t even know I have him on Snap Map.

  The Snapchat ghost winks at me. But still, he’s so close, just a few streets away. I don’t have to say anything – I can just wander by, see what he’s up to. It might help me find out what’s going on with his manager.

  My mind doesn’t make a decision; my feet do. They’ve already starting walking in the opposite direction, turning down a side street, tracing the route towards Ren’s location.

  The blood starts to drum in my head.

  I really shouldn’t be doing this.

  But Ren hasn’t been at the gym in the past week. Something must be going on. I want to help him.

  But it’s not just that, is it . . . ?

  If I’m completely honest, part of me just wants to see him again. I want to talk to him, and I want him to know that whatever his manager has said, I’m on his side.

  My breath is coming in short bursts, and I realize I’ve broken into a run.

  I’m getting closer to his location avatar. My heart is speeding up. It feels like something is going to happen. He’s going to remember me – and smile. His beautiful speckled grey eyes . . . His strong arms.

  My location dot is almost directly on top of his avatar. I look up and find I’m standing directly in front of a semi-detached house. There’s a light on in the second-floor front window, and through the blinds, I can just about make out a dark figure crouched over a computer screen.

  I squint, trying to see more clearly. Suddenly the figure moves towards the window, and I almost jump out of my skin. Without looking back, I bolt away from the house, my entire body trembling from head to toe.

  While I run, I keep shaking my head, trying to clear my thoughts. But I can’t stop them – they’re coming in thick and fast, breaking through the cracks.

  Why the hell did I just turn up at someone’s house?

  There is something seriously wrong with me.

  Tears start streaming down my face. I run the whole way home, not stopping to catch a breath, hating every single inch of myself.

  CHAPTER 8

  Chloe

  Thursday night, I’m in my bedroom, looking in the mirror at the green sequinned material stretched across my hips. There’s plucks of feathers along the short hem tickling my thighs, and the sequins mean my chest glimmers as I move.

  It’s too much, isn’t it?

  I’m wearing my favourite push-up bra, so my breasts are spilling out of the top, and I didn’t actually realize how tight the stretchy fabric would be across the top of my thighs. I don’t want to look like I’m wearing a second skin, like my mum!

  I’ve lined my eyes in dark kohl along the upper lashes and stuck individual false lashes on the outer corners. I’ve painted my lips dark red to compliment the depth of the sea-green dress.

  I smooth the thin material taut against my stomach.

  Tonight will be fine. Tom will see me looking like this, and hopefully he’ll stare. I can flirt with guys. I can just have a good time and ignore him.

  My phone vibrates with a message.

  Sven_247 WOW

  I grin and pull my phone towards me. Earlier, I sent him a selfie of what I’m wearing to the party.

  Sven_247 You look unbelievable. Can’t believe I’m not there to see you like that in person.

  I send an embarrassed-face emoji by way of response and slip my phone into my pocket. We’ve been messaging almost non-stop since that phone call, and he’s asked me if I want to call again tonight, after the party.

  It feels almost like I have my own secret person tucked away in my pocket. Any time I feel a pang about Tom or stress out about Mum, I can just get out my phone and start messaging him.

  Maybe it’s not normal to do that to someone you don’t know. But we’ve chatted on the phone. I know his voice. I feel like I actually do know him.

  Without paying attention to what my hands are doing, I click open Tom’s Instagram page. He’s put up a photo of seven crates of beer they’ve bought with the caption Just a quiet one tonight.

  There’s a weird feeling at the bottom of my stomach. To be honest, part of me doesn’t want to go. I want to crawl back into bed and start messaging Sven, call him again and stay up all night giggling – not to have to face Tom.

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I slowly twist my red lipstick back into its case. As I flick my hair over my shoulder, there’s a soapy smell of leave-in conditioner.

  I suck my breath in. Right. Time to go.

  * * *

  Andy, one of Tom’s friend’s from Year Twelve, is looking down at me, clutching a beer. It’s warm, too warm, in Tom’s living room, and as his parents are away, the entire house is thumping with music. I glance around, but the edge of the room is getting fuzzy. I stare at Andy’s lips, try to focus on what he’s saying back to me, but to be honest, I’m not paying attention.

  Glancing sideways, I surreptitiously scan the room. Tom is in the far corner, lugging a cart of beers across the hall, and our eyes meet for a split second. I clutch Andy’s arm and laugh, hard, at what he just said – pressing my boobs against his chest.

  I glance back at Tom, but he’s already gone.

  Andy follows my gaze, then clears his throat.

  ‘I’ve – er, got to go and get a beer,’ he says, turning away.

  There’s another group of guys that quickly arrive though, and I jump straight into the centre – laughing, chatting and giggling.

  Within seconds, they are teasing me, trying to catch my attention. I feel like I’m slipping back into my own skin as I start talking loudly. It’s easy; it doesn’t even take work.

  Tom has moved to the outer corner of the group. He keeps flicking his hair to one side, like he always does when he’s agitated.

  The more people crowd around me, the more he flicks. A warm glow rises up my chest as I notice him staring at me.

  I shout out a joke, louder than everyone else in the room – which causes almost all the guys to laugh.

  At that moment, Tom comes over, his face set.

  He looks straight at me. I can tell he’s had a drink – he’s got that one-eye-half-closed expression he gets when his brain has turned to treacle.

  Tom looks like he’s about to speak to me, so I turn to face him . . . but instead, he suddenly swivels round – his back against me – shutting me out of the group.

  Anger rises up in my chest. Without thinking about what I’m doing, I cut across Tom to Seb and lightly touch his arm.

  ‘Can’t believe you downed that beer so quickly,’ I say with a giggle.

  Seb’s eyes light up, and he turns to face me fully. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tom’s face, his eyes dark.

  I smile and keep chatting, one hand resting on my chest. When I look up, Tom has left. Not just our conversation, the entire room.

  Shit. Where’s he gone?

  Seb leans in and puts a hand on my waist. Smiling, I gently move his hand away.

&nbs
p; ‘Excuse me, I’ve just got to go and, um, find someone.’

  I pick my way through the crowd. Several people shout my name to get me to come over, but I shake my head, smiling.

  It’s all so familiar, this bloody house. Every room reminds me of him.

  My head is thumping now. Painful. I wince and pick my legs up across each step of the stairs. I don’t even think about where I’m going. Right to the end of the corridor. Tom’s bedroom.

  When I push open the door, there’s Louise and Jerome entangled on the bedsheets. They haven’t seen me. With a half-smile, I slowly click the door shut. Hmm. Will have to ask her about that later.

  With a sigh, I open the door to Tom’s little brother’s room and go to sit down on the bed.

  It’s dark – and when I focus, I see a dark, lanky figure hunched over the bed.

  I nearly leap out of my skin.

  Tom looks up. He’s swigging a beer, which is obscuring his face – but even in the dim light, I can tell it’s him by the way he moves. I sit down next to him. He narrows his gaze.

  ‘You should go and join the party,’ he says gruffly.

  I lean in and nudge my forehead against his shoulder.

  He breathes out slowly. ‘No, really. You should go and join the party.’

  ‘I just want to stay here with you,’ I say, looking up at him. And all of a sudden, I don’t want to be loud and obnoxious. I just want to sit here, with Tom, and cry.

  Tom doesn’t react.

  ‘We really need to talk, T,’ I say.

  Tom stands up, yanking my head off his shoulder. He stands over me, gritting his teeth.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing at my party, anyway, Chloe?!’

  CHAPTER 9

  Chloe

  Tom is staring down at me, his face like thunder.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I say. ‘I’m just at your party like everyone else.’

  He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rakes his hands through his hair and looks away.

  ‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’

  There’s a twist in my stomach, like it’s all my fault. But . . . I didn’t . . .

  Tom’s face is pained, and suddenly I want to throw my arms around him.

  ‘I’m—’ I stutter. ‘I didn’t mean—’

  Tom looks down at the bed and sighs. ‘Yes, you did. You always know what you’re doing. You always mean to do it.’

  I feel a flash of anger. ‘That’s unfair. You weren’t even interested in me!’

  ‘Christ. Not this again.’

  ‘Guys message me all the time, you know. They actually want to speak to me.’

  Tom looks up. ‘So do I.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. That’s why you were texting Samantha – that’s why Kaylie kept sending you all those Snapchats.’

  He stares at me – this six-foot-four man with stubble across his cheeks – and his eyes widen like a child’s.

  ‘I didn’t ask her to ! She sent them to everyone. For God’s sake, Chloe.’ Tom’s lower lip is sticking out. ‘Why do you flirt like that with everyone? Why do you do that to me?’

  I nibble my lip, but then shake my head. ‘Why shouldn’t I act how I like? We’re not together – not any more.’

  The edge of Tom’s jaw catches the low light as it clenches in the darkness. ‘I know. You made that clear.’

  Instinctively I reach my hand out towards his, but in one fluid motion, he draws himself up to his full height and walks out of the room. I blink at the spot where he stood.

  Part of me wants to scream at him to come back. But another part wants to walk out, pretend he’s not here, and go straight into the arms of another guy.

  I. Don’t. Need. Him.

  I look down at my phone. Shit – the battery’s dead.

  The sheets on the bed are lightly rumpled where Tom was sitting. I glance at it for a moment.

  Screw him.

  Seriously. He was the one who didn’t care, messaging all those other girls. Now he tries to pretend that he still wants us to be together?

  I tap my phone again to message Sven, but the screen stays resolutely black. Huh.

  I stand up.

  Oh God. I shouldn’t have done that so quickly. The room is swaying in front of me – the colours in the dim light blurring into one. I step forward and flick on the light switch, but it’s worse, horrifically bright.

  I stand there for a moment – not sure what to do. But then I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My eyeliner is slightly smudged, and my red lipstick has faded to a pale pink – but I’m surprised by how pretty I look compared to my normal, bare face.

  Most of my make-up is just how I applied it, and the green sequinned dress matches perfectly with my dark glossy hair. I square my shoulders.

  I’m not going to let Tom get to me.

  I’m going back out there.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, I’m draped on the armrest of a sofa, staring into the eyes of this guy, Joshua. At least I think he’s called J-something. He’s from Andy’s football team, or rugby team . . . maybe.

  Anyway, I like talking to him.

  He’s almost good-looking – far-apart eyes, strong nose – and he’s fun to speak to, kinda.

  Tom is nowhere to be seen, but I don’t care. I look right into whatshisname’s eyes, his pupils widen, and I giggle at something he says. As I lean closer, I notice his nose is slightly too upturned. But he’s tall, with strong shoulders. He definitely works out – his muscles are bulging out of his tight T-shirt.

  I grin, and – so fast the room goes out of focus – he leans forward and clashes his lips against mine.

  There’s an urgency in his hot, wet mouth, forcing his face against mine. His big hand clumsily snakes down my back and rests on my bum. For some reason, I suddenly feel sick.

  I pull away sharply, opening my eyes. The lights are bright. Too bright.

  ‘I feel a bit . . . I don’t know.’ I clutch my head, my vision swimming. ‘I said I’d be home. I need to head back.’

  At once, J-something has leaped up and taken my arm.

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ he says, smiling. ‘I’ll walk you back.’

  ‘No – it’s . . . I’m fine,’ I say, but as I try to walk, I stumble.

  The guy laughs and puts his hand on my waist.

  ‘You can barely stand.’ He grins. ‘C’mon – you need help.’

  I let him lead me out of the party. My mind is foggy, but somewhere beyond the mist, a little voice is telling me to get away. I take his arm off of my waist, peel his hand off of my bum – but then I sway straight into him. He laughs and puts his hands back to steady me.

  ‘What are you like,’ he says, standing too close to me as he manoeuvres me along the pavement, his eyes travelling down my body.

  As we get closer to my house, I turn to him.

  ‘I know my way back from here – it’s OK. I can get home now,’ I say.

  There’s a pause.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mutter, trying to keep my words straight, but they feel too big for my mouth.

  He scoffs. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What sort of a guy would I be if I let you walk home by yourself in this state?’

  There’s something determined about his voice that makes the skin on the back of my arms tighten.

  ‘It’s fine, honestly,’ I say.

  He shakes his head, running his hand up my waist, higher so he’s touching the edge of my bra strap over the top of my dress.

  There’s a horrible tight feeling in my stomach.

  Why won’t he leave?

  I smile, putting on a light, non-drunk voice. ‘Seriously, I’m fine!’

  Even though it makes my stomach feel even sicker, I touch his chest, trying to sound calm.

  J-something grins. ‘Aw, OK, then.’

  My whole body relaxes.

  Thank God.

  ‘. . . but not without a goodbye kiss.’

  I dutifully lift my
chin up, relieved that this will soon be over, but he shakes his head.

  ‘No, over there.’

  He indicates towards a row of trees down an alcove between the houses.

  ‘It’s quieter,’ he says.

  ‘No. I . . . I don’t want—’

  But he’s not listening. He pulls me along, and in what seems like a matter of seconds he’s pressed me up against one of the trees and his warm mouth is moving against mine. His lips are too wet and puffy. I can feel my body tense up, trying to squirm away from him – but he responds by gripping my head.

  ‘You’re a wriggler, aren’t you,’ he says with a smirk, clashing his mouth against my teeth.

  ‘I . . .’ I try to say something, but I can’t – his lips are suffocating me.

  He presses his large, hard body against mine, and I’m pinned to the tree. He breaks away from me and starts moving his thick hands over my breasts. He squeezes them so hard it’s painful.

  ‘No. I’m not . . . I don’t—’ I start breathlessly, but my voice is too quiet.

  He presses his lips against my neck, and through the fog I feel a tear run down my cheek.

  It takes every effort of my trembling limbs to lift up my hands and push him away, hard. His body rocks back in shock.

  And then through the thick darkness, I run and run and run.

  CHAPTER 10

  Amber

  On Friday morning, as soon as the bell goes for break, I walk as fast as I can towards the back of the school to nab the single bench that faces the PE changing rooms.

  This is my usual spot. There’s no one else around, and I’m relieved to find it empty. As I sit down, I suppress a shiver and clutch my hands together. The wind circles my bare ankles and there are tiny flecks of dry skin, which are starting to crack around my knuckles.

  Oh God – why did I turn up at Ren’s house last night?

  I bet that was him in the second-floor room. He probably spotted me out of the window before I ran away. Do you think he could see my face?

  I dig my nails into my palm so hard that they hurt.

  Ren probably thinks I’m some kind of stalker now. I bet he point-blank ignores me next time I step foot in the gym. That’s if I can ever bear to again.