My first instinct is to freak out over who he's potentially texting, but that would be batshit crazy of me. Plus, Ellis just told me that Rocco likes me. Probably. Mentioning someone a few times might not count.
It's not until we're right at the table when Rocco looks up. He sees me first, and the surprise is evident. His dark eyebrows rise, and he sits back in his seat. Folding his arms, he smirks.
Jesus, he is beautiful. Aren't you just supposed to get butterflies around someone you're attracted to?
I have fucking Game of Thrones-style dragons going on in my stomach. My attraction to him is coupled with intrigue and a whole lot of nervousness. He's exactly what I need to help me find Celia's killer.
"Look who I found," Ellis says.
He takes a seat so that I'm forced with facing Rocco. Not that I'm complaining.
"What're you doing here, Bella?" His voice is rough and sexy as hell and does things to my insides that makes me want to drag him into the nearest restroom.
"I was bored," I reply.
Telling him the truth isn't going to happen. Rocco and his friends can't know why I'm here. I came to get away from the crippling sadness at home, not to talk about it. And, if I tell them my sister is dead, they'll have questions.
I bloody hate questions.
"Wow, nice to know you have to get really bored before you pay us a visit," Ellis says sarcastically.
I lean my elbows on the table and tilt my head in his direction. "Ah, but I didn't come to see you."
"Ouch." He clutches his heart and then nudges my arm.
When I look back at Rocco, his expression is hard.
Yeah, I was so not flirting with Ellis.
Quite like that he's jealous though.
At least I think that was jealousy.
When the server comes, Rocco and Ellis order the all-day full English, and I opt for chips. It seems so much safer, and I'm hungry.
"Are you being a princess about the food here?" Rocco asks once we're alone again.
I fold my arms. "I bet there is no real meat in the meat here. And they don't even mop the floor, which everyone can see, so what makes you think they're cleaning the kitchen?"
Rocco eyes me like he's not sure I'm even human. "Why the fuck would I think about that shit at all?" he says the words with conviction.
But I don't miss how his eyes snap to the floor.
Yeah, dude, it's fucking filthy. Enjoy your plate of dirty, processed arseholes and hooves.
We fall into an easy conversation until our food arrives. I pick up a chip and inspect it to make sure there's no mould. Result: It looks okay.
"I swear, best food in the world right here," Ellis mumbles, shoving a massive forkful into his mouth.
I turn my nose up. "Gross."
"Stop being a little princess," Rocco teases.
"I'm not, but that does not look good. Your food is sitting on a layer of grease. You know that's probably taking a month off your life each time you eat it."
He shrugs, never taking his eyes off me. "It's worth it."
"Doubt it."
"I'm not making it past fifty anyway," Ellis says.
"Fucking hell, man, not this again."
"What?" I ask, looking between them.
Rocco shakes his head, discouraged. "Ellis seems to think that, after fifty, your dick and sex drive start to decline."
"I'm just sayin', I don't see a point if you can't have sex. What else in life is there?"
"So, what happens when you get to fifty?" I ask.
"I'm going to have one fuck-off huge weekend, do every drug imaginable, and shag as many women as I can before I OD."
I raise my eyebrow at his stupidity. "Wow, life goals."
"Death goals," he corrects. "Tell me a better way to go."
He's talking about taking his own life on my murdered sister's birthday, and I can't get angry at the waste. For the first time since she died, I feel hope. Being with Rocco and Ellis is the only time I've felt a sliver of the carefree teenager I should be. They're fun, and I haven't realised, until now, how much I needed that.
I could easily become lost with Rocco. Part of me wants that. If I can just forget, then I can have a normal life.
You owe Celia. You owe her.
I don't deserve a normal life, not until I put this right first.
"Old, in your sleep, and surrounded by people you love." It doesn't sound like an end I'll get, but that doesn't mean I don't want it.
"Nah, I'm with Ellis here," Rocco says the words, but his eyes say something completely contradictory.
He wants my version of a perfect end. I want to call him out on it, but that would be kind of a dick move in front of Ellis. Also, it would make me sound like a needy psycho, and I'm not down for that.
"Can we talk about something else now, please?" Just because I feel okay to talk about this subject today doesn't mean I particularly want to discuss it.
"Done, Bells," Ellis says.
Sure, call me whatever you want.
"Tell me honestly, which one of us is better looking?" Ellis gestures between himself and Rocco.
Ellis isn't bad-looking, but there's no comparison in my eyes.
The tall, dark, and handsome man staring at me will win every time.
"Rocco," I say, smirking at Ellis.
"Ah! You're killing me, Bella."
I glance back at Rocco, and he's smug as fuck. The way he looks at me, sort of like I'm dinner and the only woman on earth at the same time, is like nothing I've experienced before. I've had guys want to be with me, but they were just after sex.
"See, bro? You just don't do it for her," Rocco teases.
Yep, this is definitely appropriate conversation for my third encounter with this stranger.
A stranger I weirdly feel like I've known for a long time. It's probably because I'm not used to feeling comfortable around anyone.
"If it helps, I'd pick you over the rest of the men in here," I say to Ellis.
It won't help.
"Oh, thank you very fucking much. You'd do me over all the old men. Thanks. My pride has been restored."
I laugh. "You asked, so you brought this on yourself."
"I didn't think anyone would be blind enough to choose that prick over me," he says, playfully narrowing his eyes at Rocco. "Anyway, kids, I'm gonna do one. Play nicely together."
He chucks some cash down on the table and exchanges a look with Rocco, and I have no idea what it means. Rocco does though, as he glares back.
"What was that about?" I ask innocently, knowing full bloody well that he's not going to tell me.
Frustrating idiot.
"What?"
Yep, not going to tell me.
"What're you doing for the rest of the day?" he asks, folding his arms.
God, I would love to chill with him, but I can't be here too long. Soon, I'll have to go home and pretend like being there isn't excruciating. My family always talks about Celia today and on the anniversary of her death. To me, it's too much. It brings everything back, and I'm that terrified little girl again.
"I have a family thing," I reply, turning my nose up.
"You seem thrilled."
"I'd rather be anywhere else."
"You don't get along with them?"
"Not so much. It's okay though. I get along well with my grandparents." They don't care that I'm not a carbon copy of Livvy. "Do you feel sick yet? I feel like you should after eating that."
"Try it before you write it off."
"I'll pass. Hey do you have WhatsApp?"
He frowns, looking at me like I'm speaking a different language. "A what's app what?"
I laugh at his confusion. Oh my God, his frown is adorable.
"It's a messaging app on your phone, like text but you don't have to pay."
"I don't pay to text either. I don't really do it."
"You don't text?"
"Ellis, maybe a couple of times a month, but--"
I hold my hand out
. "Wow. Okay, give me your phone."
He pulls a face like he definitely doesn't want to hand over his phone to a virtual stranger who keeps randomly turning up. "Why?"
"Because I'm putting WhatsApp on it. You can message me."
"I can text you if you put your number in."
"Hilarious. I don't want my parents to see your number on the bill. They'll ask questions."
He puts his phone in my outstretched hand. "Can't you just tell them I'm your pimp?"
I roll my eyes and ignore his comment. It would be funny for, like, a second, but then there would be shouting, and they'd have to meet him. I'd likely be grounded--or they would try to ground me anyway.
After getting Rocco to enter the pin in his iPhone 4--yeah, really--the app downloads. I add my details, and we're all set.
"There," I say, handing it back. "Now, you don't have to miss me so much."
"Oh, thank God," he mutters sarcastically.
He can joke all he wants, but I know he's happy to see me, too. Whatever this is between us, after only a day, I like it. It's nice to have a friend.
Can he be called a friend already?
"Shall we get out of here then? I really should get home."
Nodding, he reaches for his wallet.
"How much do I owe?" I ask.
He gives me a flat look. "Just get your bag, Bella."
"I don't expect you to pay for me. This isn't the 1950s."
"Isabella!" he snaps.
"Wow. Okay, Mr Grumpy."
He raises an eyebrow instead of saying anything.
"Thank you, Rocco."
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it? Don't you think it's so much nicer when you're not being bratty?"
"No, I don't. And, if you're honest with yourself, you don't think that either. You like to be challenged."
He grunts. "Well, you sure are a challenge."
"You're welcome. Where are you going now? My car is near the supermarket."
"I'll walk you back. And what car do you have?"
"A Fiat 500."
His nose turns up. "Don't call that tin can a car."
I get up and grab my bag. My phone is on silent, and I can feel it vibrating with a call, probably from Mum. "You're so funny. You know, I don't think I've ever met anyone as hilarious as you. You should do stand-up at the Apollo. And I share the car with my sister; it was her choice."
He grabs my elbow, rolling his eyes, and leads me toward the exit. "I think you should be quiet now, Bella."
"Nuh-uh. You don't want me to."
"Right now, I do."
We walk out of the cafe, and four men are involved in a fight across the street. Fists and feet are flying everywhere as each one tries to inflict the most pain on the other.
Rocco doesn't even blink.
Each one of them looks like they're in their thirties.
"What the hell is that?"
I've seen pathetic fights at school, but they were broken up by teachers pretty fast. This is something completely different. Blood is everywhere. They're rolling around in a pool of their mixed blood, and it makes me feel sick. This is vicious and brutal.
Brutal...just like my sister's death. Is it one of them, Celia?
I'm cold. Icy cold.
Rocco puts his arm around me, and I think I'm more stunned at that than the fight. His fingers lightly dig into the flesh of my hip as he holds me close.
"That's just another day in paradise," he mutters as he quickly ushers me back toward my car.
I look over my shoulder, memorising the faces of the four men. I think I recognise a few of them from the river, but I could be wrong because I only saw them for a matter of minutes.
I'm coming back here as soon as I can.
I won't give up, Celia, I promise. I'll make this right.
EIGHT
* * *
BELLA
Sunday brings a breath of fresh air. It's no longer Celia's birthday. The house returns to its post-Celia normality. Mum and Dad are in the kitchen, where they spend most of their time, drinking coffee and talking. Livvy is rushing around, getting ready to go to Harry's for the day.
All I plan to do is binge-watch Gossip Girl and eat. Since sixth form is out for revision before our final exams, I'll have plenty of time to stay with Nana and Grandad.
"Morning," I say to my parents as I hone in on the pot of coffee. Caffeine dominates my bloodstream, and I need my fix.
"Morning, sweetheart," Mum says.
"We're going to the car boot today. Want to come?" Dad asks.
Do I want to spend all morning walking around outside, looking at tables of other people's old shit?
No, I don't.
"Do you know me at all, Dad?"
He laughs. "It was a long shot."
"Thanks, but I'm Netflixing today."
"Perhaps you should study," Mum suggests.
"It's Sunday. Sunday is for Netflix."
"I'm sure that's not what Sundays are traditionally for," Mum says, her lip twitching in a smile.
"Depends on whose idea of tradition you're talking about."
Livvy waltzes into the kitchen on cloud nine. She probably just had another ten-minute fight with Harry over who should hang up first.
Vom.
It's eight thirty a.m., and she's perfectly groomed and ready for the catwalk. I look like I was just mugged.
"Coffee?" I ask.
Livvy nods. "Thanks. So, today, Harry and I are..."
And that's when I switch off.
Mum and Dad listen to Livvy reel off her list of super-sickly-sweet plans for her and the dickhead boyfriend while I make drinks.
I add milk to our coffees, more to hers since she prefers it far too weak, and put them down on the table. Livvy gets the chopped fruit from the fridge to make a fruit salad for breakfast, and I grab the box of raspberry Pop-Tarts. We fail so hard at being twins.
"Thanks," Livvy says, nodding to her coffee as she joins our parents.
When my Pop-Tarts are done and molten-lava hot, I follow.
"Bella, I was thinking about getting my nails done one day this week and wondered if you'd want to come, too?" Livvy asks.
She's positive I'll say no, or she wouldn't have asked quite so formally.
Honestly, I'd rather pull my nails off than go have them done by some orange-tanned lady who won't stop talking to me, but I've not spent much time with my mum and sister recently, so I find myself nodding. I should try, right? "Sounds good."
Actually, it sounds like hell, but I'll get over it.
"Great," she replies, sitting up straighter, clearly pleased that I proved her wrong.
I love my sister to death; she's the other half of me. But, sometimes, I resent her for being the one who gets to be normal. I'd give anything to not have seen Celia like that. Livvy is the girl whose big sister was murdered. I'm the girl who found her murdered big sister.
"Just nails though, right? They're not coming near my face with any of that mud shit."
"Bella," Dad warns at my word choice.
"Just nails," Livvy says. "I promise."
"I'm hoping to stay with Nana and Grandad Tuesday to Thursday, so any other day is good with me," I say, looking to Mum and Dad for their approval since I technically haven't brought it up with them yet.
Now that I'm eighteen, it's not that they can really stop me from staying anywhere, but they've had enough to deal with, and I don't exactly make things easy on them.
They share a look, and Livvy stays quiet to see how this goes.
"All right, that's fine with us," Mum says.
Huh? I expected a fight.
"Thanks."
"As long as you keep up with your exam revision there," she adds.
I hold my hands up, totally okay with that condition. "Will do."
Mum smiles and turns to my sister. "Livvy, do you need a lift to Harry's?"
"Er," she says, looking over at me.
Since we share a car, we have to bloody book i
t in advance.
"I'm not leaving the house today, so do what you like," I reply.
"Then, I'm fine," she says to our parents.
Mum ushers Dad out of the house in a hurry in case the neighbours sell out of all their old rubbish in the next hour. Un-fucking-likely.
"So, you're really staying in today?" Livvy asks.
My sister seems to think that I should be out with friends like normal eighteen-year-olds. My group got bored of me a long time ago. My mind is still very much in the past, so I make a terrible friend.
"Yep."
"Why don't you come to the cinema with me and Harry?"
I laugh before I can stop myself. "Sorry, but being a third wheel to you guys is the absolute last thing I want to do."
"You wouldn't be a third wheel; you're my sister."
"That's right, and sisters shouldn't go on each other's dates. I'm fine, Liv. I like my own company." I might not like it in twenty years when I'm living with thirty cats, but for now, I'm cool.
She sighs and purses her lips. I hate that she pities me. There's nothing wrong with not being a people person. Most people are wankers anyway.
"When you get home, why don't we watch something?" I suggest.
We won't. We rarely do anything like that anymore, but the thought makes her feel better.
"Sure," she replies. She pops a chunk of melon in her mouth. "I might come to Nana and Grandad's with you one night."
No. Absolutely not.
If she's there, I can't sneak out. We share the spare room at theirs, and I don't fancy my chances with her sleeping in the same room. But I can't really tell her that.
"Yeah? I thought you'd want to spend as much time with Harry since there's no school, and we don't have to be home as early." That's right; use her boyfriend as an excuse.
"I do, but I feel like we don't spend much time together anymore. I miss that."
"We're doing nails." I'm torn between actually wanting to spend more time with her and wanting to cause an argument, so she won't want to be anywhere near me.
"I know, but--"
"Livvy, you don't have to feel bad. We're adults now, so we're going to do different things. It's perfectly normal, and it doesn't mean we're any less twin than before."
It's all true even if I am just saying it so that she'll stay the fuck here.
"I guess. As long as you're not mad at me for being with Harry so much. I feel like you don't like him sometimes."
Oh, I don't like him all of the time but not because she's always with him.
"We might not be besties, but I definitely don't dislike him because you're together so much. Stop stressing, and just be happy, okay?"
I need her to be happy, or what's the point of me keeping quiet for the last twelve years?