Worst Impressions

Chapter Sixty Five

I didn't believe in love at first sight.

I never had.

But I believed that love was something that could sneak up on a person.

It was impossible to tell when it had begun, and no one could predict where it would end. All that they knew was that there was love where there hadn't been before, and that it had them completely and utterly trapped.

My hand fit into Will's as though his had been made for mine. Like someone knew that we would meet someday, and our hands would need to be carved ­just so for when this moment came. We wove easily through the dancing students, finding a safe spot where we could feel alone in this crushing throng of slow-moving teenage bodies. Will's hands rested on my hips. I could feel his strong fingers through the fabric, holding me securely but gently, like some precious object he didn't dare to damage. I placed mine upon his shoulders, but soon moved them to the nape of his neck.

As we swayed slowly in time with one another I said, 'Thank you for what you did for Lisa. There aren't many people who'd jet off to Rome to save a girl they barely knew. And... I imagine that you had something to do with Charlie coming back for Jenny.'

'I didn't just do it for them,' he said. 'I knew the moment you got that phone call that I had to do something. I never wanted to see you look so frightened or hurt again. If that meant flying out to Italy and exposing my family's secrets, then so be it. I'd give up everything I own to keep you safe and happy. My reputation, my money... my pride and snobbish ways. As for Jenny, I knew that her happiness meant more to you than your own. Charlie's means just as much to me.' He said it with a smile, and I blushed. I dreaded to think just how many times I'd called him a snob during our acquaintance. That smile faded when he begged, 'If you feel the same way you did at Christmas about being with me, please just tell me now. If you don't... well, I'll be silent on the subject forever if you say the word. I know we've kissed, but we've never actually talked about -'

'I don't want to think about how I felt at Christmas,' I said. 'Angry, mostly. Drunk, for sure. Snogging your cousin. Which was, in hindsight, probably a bad idea.'

Will winced. 'I'd been trying to forget that last part.'

'I also slapped you. It wasn't my finest moment.'

'The things I said to you at the time were totally out of order. I'm surprised you didn't break my nose.'

'I might have if I had better aim,' I admitted.

'Beth, all joking aside, which I know is difficult for you,' he said. 'I love you. I've been in love with you almost since we first met. That night in the rain when you stubbornly tried to save Jenny. Every time you turned your nose up at me and stuck to your morals, never swayed by my family name or money. With every sarcastic comment, witty retort, and display of fierce loyalty to your friends, I just fell deeper. Please, give me a chance to keep falling in love with you every day from now on. Tell me you love me, too.'

Most men would have turned and run as fast as they could in the opposite direction in the face of such things. Sarcasm and stubbornness weren't necessarily endearing traits yet, here we were, two idiots completely in love with one another and likely the last people to realise it. I'd been offended at Christmas that Will had verbally bashed his feelings for me, reminding us both of why it was a socially unacceptable match, and why he'd hesitated to tell me what was in his heart. The class divide between us was practically a chasm, and I'd been as sensible of it as him. At every turn I'd told myself that he was a wealthy snob, and that he couldn't possibly be interested in me. Rather than reminding myself of our differences, I ought to have thought on our similarities, and those included our feelings for each other.