"Ruby, are you even listening to me?"

Dad's words, accompanied with an irritated edge, force me out of my stupor. I glance up from my coffee and shoot him a glare. It's not the first time I've been frustrated with him this week- him, Mum and Granddad. The only person I've not lost it with is Evie, and that's because she's five and oblivious to everything going on around her.

"I could ask you the same question," I mutter as I scowl down at the dark contents in my mug. I take a sip before screwing up my nose. The hot drink tastes too bitter.

Dad sighs across me and folds his arms. He looks tired. And not in that kind of way a busy day's work might leave someone. The shadows beneath his eyes are too dark and he sighs so often it's as though the only way he can breathe properly is when he's exhaling slowly. Then there's his hair, once usually tidy, is now unkempt and starting to grey. It makes my heart twinge in the same way it does when I see all the fine lines mapping Mum's hands.

What aren't they telling me?

I already know who it's about. It's Granddad. Even the nosy neighbour across the street knows something's up with him. The past few weeks he's just been shut up in his room, refusing to talk to anybody. When he does come out, he either talks about going home or apple juice.

A part of me still hopes that he needs the apple juice for his writing, to finish that book he still refuses to tell anybody about. But, for a long time now, I've realised that that's not true. Because when he has his door firmly shut locked and his windows curtained, his room is either far too quiet or barely audible with the muffled sound of crying. The latter breaks my heart.

Granddad's change of mood feels like it's come out of nowhere, to me at least. When I ask about him, I'm always given the same bloody answers: 'Don't worry about it,' or 'Everything's fine' or some form of it and it's beginning to drive me mad.

"Ruby, we've been through this," Dad says, his voice drained and quiet. "Granddad's just tired. Now answer me, when was the last time you've been out?"

I roll my eyes at his question. When Dad asks it again I take to sighing exasperatedly.

Distantly, I think of how it's funny how things can be so different. Behaviour that's universal, like sighing or blinking can be so distinct and suited to one person, it's almost as though they've crafted the action themselves. Dad's sighs are weary and long. Mine are short and sharp. Levi's are deep and make me shiver.

I stand up straighter, attempting to push all thought of him out of mind as soon as it appears.

Dad's question is one that he's also asked lots of times. He and Mum have more than a few times expressed concern over how I'm apparently working too hard and too late. And just like him, I also never give him a proper answer.

I face upwards, away from my cup, to stare at Dad right in the eye. "I have a right to know what's going with him."

"There's nothing to know!" Dad cries in frustration. This sudden burst of speech startles both me and him.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. It's clearly evident I'm not going to get an answer out of him any time soon. As much as I want to know, there's clearly no point.

I set my mug down on the kitchen counter, feeling frustrated tears prick my eyes. This is the last time I'm going to let Mum or Dad just sweep their secrets under the carpet and leave me in the dark. This is what it was like last time. I didn't know. I didn't know anything until I found Granddad lying on that bed, yellowed, bone-thin and so ill.

There was the simple explanation to finding him like that and there was the difficult one. The simple on was alcohol-related liver disease. At the time, I was too young to understand the difficult answer. I was too young to even understand the first.

I leave the kitchen, ignoring Dad's calls for me to calm down, before I reach the landing I planned to head to my room and do whatever but I find myself stopping in my tracks.

Granddad's standing on the last step of the stairs, and something tells me he's just heard everything that's just been said in the kitchen. He has a half-finished glass of apple juice in his hands and he's wearing an expression that's slightly surprised. My stomach sinks as I register his appearance. His once grey hair is white, his usually bright face is grey and the bright knitted garments he used to like to wear are now dull.

"Please, tell me what's wrong," I whisper, the request spilling out of my lips with no second thought. "Why don't you just talk to us?" I ask, my voice becoming increasingly desperate. "We can help. With whatever you're going through, we're here." I sound like Mr Hibbert in our first meeting, all those years ago. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "I'm here to help."

My reaction at the time had been scathing but Granddad's right now is anything but. His grey eyebrows furrow and a sad frown tugs down at his mouth. He opens his mouth and is hesitant to answer right away. "I... I've just been a bit under the weather, that's all." He speaks slowly, as though each word takes effort.

I shake my head at the response, unable to believe it. Dad comes up behind me and I realise that I really am not going to get anywhere with them.

Fine, I angrily think, they can have it their way.

I walk past Granddad, up the stairs and into my room. I debate between throwing myself at the chair to work or my bed. I sink into my bundle of duvets and pillows and exhale shakily. All I am is concerned, but with the way they're behaving, it's as though I'm the enemy.

I don't know how long I stay in bed. After grabbing the nearest book, which happens to be about imaginary numbers, I begin to read without taking anything in.

Time begins to shift by slowly, then quickly and then I don't notice it. I don't know how long it's been since I first got in bed when there's a knock on my door.

I drop my book in surprise when I see that it's Oliver who comes into my room. He gives a small smile as he shuts the door after himself. "Hey, Rubes."

"What are you going here?" I ask as he stands by my door, running a hand through his ginger hair. I continue to stare agape at him, his appearance is so sudden it takes a moment to sink in.

"Uh well..." Oliver begins, both looking and sounding more than shifty. "Your dad might've given me a call."

"What?" I sputter, feeling a spark of shock and anger. "He did what?"

"I don't blame him!" Oliver says, walking across the room before sitting down beside me. "The last time I came round, you said you were too busy. You've been 'too busy' for way too long."

Just like with Dad, I sigh at what he has to say. "I don't get why you're all making such a big fuss."

"Because, Rubes, I miss you. We all do. And, we're planning to go somewhere tonight. I want you to come and not be stuck with these bloody books all night."

I raise my eyebrows at him. He's barely been here a minute and already he's suggesting we go somewhere completely out-of-the-blue.

"Just come along," Oliver urges, giving me a light bump on my shoulder with his. "We barely see you anymore."

He's right. Apart from school, I've rarely seen either Oliver or Imogen. All I've really been seeing are books, textbooks and exam papers.

I glance back down at the book in my hand and finally notice how dull it seems compared to the friend sitting beside me, inviting me out for the evening. Shoving it aside, I get up with a small sigh. Oliver grins widely.

Getting up, Oliver gestures towards my door. "Did I mention I brought the gang along?"

* * *

By 'gang' Oliver was referring to Imogen and her other half, Luke and Levi. We're all currently stuffed in Max's car, despite it only seating five. Since Imogen is the shortest out of all of us, it would've made sense if she sat at the back to leave more space for the others, but she opted to sit next to the driver's seat, by her boyfriend. That explains why I'm currently stuffed in between three boys, feeling pretty flustered.

I'm half-sitting on Levi, and needless to say, it has my face turning a bright red. The last time I saw him I was avoiding him, making these circumstances a stark opposite. Oliver sits beside me, singing obnoxiously loudly along to whatever song is playing on the radio, much to the exasperation of Luke who's squished in between the window and the guy who thinks he's the next Beyoncé.

When I'd come out of my house, they were all standing outside the car, talking among themselves. Imogen practically threw herself at me with a hug and vowed that I'd 'finally have some fun'. Levi had been stood by the car, talking to Luke before he abruptly stopped and turned to look at me. I found I wasn't able to look him in the eye because then I'd start thinking about it all again. The kiss. It all makes my mind swim.

Even now, when we're pressed up against each other, I'm still not able to look at him. This close there's an awkward sort of tension in the air between us that makes everything feel far too hot.

We finally come to a stop and I realise that I haven't got a clue about where we're headed. As we get out the car, I feel a twinge of agitation. If by 'fun' Imogen means a club or something, I'm going to die. I couldn't be less bothered for dancing, loud music or anything too crazy.

"Where are we going?" I ask Imogen, who begins walking off from the car park to the street outside. I catch up and she turns to give me a small a grin.

"Oh, I just thought you could do with some of those brownies we love so much," she says airily. Sure enough we come to a stop outside Gris et Crème, the coffee house looking as bright and inviting as ever. I like the familiar jangle of the bell overhead as we walk in with a gust of sweet, warm air to meet us. Thank god.

I turn to Imogen with a smile. "This is perfect."

We choose a booth by the window and I see how, even on a Sunday afternoon, this place is still bustling and full of the low hum of chatter, laughter and music. My mouth begins to upturn in a smile as I slide into onto the leather seats. I remember how much better this place makes me feel when I'm down and wonder why I didn't come here before.

Luke asks what we all want before we all pool our cash together. Levi decides to go with him and takes the money. As I pretend to be looking at the menu, I watch them both walk up to the front of the café to place our order. A girl who looks our age is at the till, when she points to a platter of cakes beside her she flashes a flirtatious smile to Levi who laughs at what she says after.

I feel a sharp pang of jealousy.

"So, have you snogged him again?" Oliver's voice suddenly asks, low and in my ear. I jump and turn to look at him, my mouth dropping open. He can't possibly know. How can he know?

Oliver cocks his eyebrow as he looks over his menu at me with a smug expression at catching me out. I feel my cheeks flushing and send him a scowl. Before he manages to say anything else, I hastily look over to Imogen and Max, who are luckily preoccupied with being snugly stowed away in the corner of the window seat, completely oblivious to what Oliver's talking about as they laugh and talk together.

"Where the hell has this come from?" I whisper, my mind reeling as I wonder whether word about what happened in the library broken out. Oliver leans in, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"It's not exactly hard to guess, Rubes. You haven't been able to keep your eyes off him since you left your house," he says confidently.

"Er, no," I immediately respond as, inwardly, I feel a rush of relief knowing he'd guessed rather than found out. I give him another glare as he sits chuckling in his chair. Both of have noticed how uncertain I sound.

"I can tell when you're lying, Rubes," Oliver says, leaning back in the leather booth and clasping his hands behind his head.

"Don't bet on it," I immediately reply, and even though I say this light-heartedly, inside my heart begins to sink. Because, really, I'm right. Oliver may sometimes catch me lying, but a lot the time he can't, not when I've put on a fake smile and pretend everything's fine. Just like now.

Even though I'm sat here, with a cup of hot chocolate in my hands and my friends with me, there's still that low, tightening sensation in my heart. There's still that feeling that reminds me that something's wrong.

"I can tell when you're lying even when you're sad," Oliver suddenly says, losing his amused attitude and suddenly appearing serious.

I blink in surprise as my stomach clenches. "I don't get what you mean." The words that come out of my mouth are almost mechanical, they're so automatic. They're what I always say whenever a conversation starts to go in a direction I don't want it to.

"I don't ask because you do what you always do, look you're even beginning to do it now," Oliver says, his words quiet and solemn, "You just start to close yourself off, Ruby."

He reaches forward and squeezes my hand in his, it's hold warm and surprisingly comforting. "And it makes me such a crap friend not to keep asking about what's going on even when you don't let me know." Oliver's words are filled with a sadness and determination I've never heard before.

"You have nothing to ask about," I say in an attempt to cheer him up and to get rid of that look of sadness that casts a shadow over his face. Sure enough he let goes of my hand and cracks a smile, despite it not being one of his usual a-thousand-megawatt ones.

"And you don't fancy good old Levi Parker," he replies. "Who by the way has been staring at you for the past five minutes while he's waiting for those drinks."

"God, shut up," I hiss, even though I guess that Oliver's probably just mocking me, I let myself take a quick glance see what Levi's really doing.

My heart leaps when our eyes meet. It's as though a jolt of electricity rushes down my spine as I feel my face immediately burn scarlet before I quickly look back at Oliver, grimacing. "We're friends! Nothing more, nothing less."

Oliver simply shrugs. "I can't believe Levi Parker is going to be my brother-in-law."

I give a splutter of shock and laughter before feeling a pang of alarm as Levi and Luke balance drinks in their hands and begin to make their way back. I have to end this conversation fast. "OK, enough, seriously even for you that is a weird thing to say."

"What's weird about it?" Oliver grins.

"Maybe the fact that one, you're not actually my brother and two, Levi and I are not going to get married! God they're coming over-"

"One I'm practically like your brother, Rubes, and two, what are you going to name your kids? Oliver for a boy and Olivia for a girl, am I right- ow!"

I manage to shut him up by hitting his shoulder but I can't keep in my laughter at the ridiculous thins he's saying. Even though he doesn't have a clue about what's going on at home, and I still feel that faint pang of worry, he's managed to lift my mood and make me laugh.

Luckily I've stopped him from saying any more as Levi and Luke both arrive back at the table, balancing glasses in their hands.

"What's funny?" Luke asks curiously, sliding back into his seat.

"Oliver's just being an idiot," I answer, shaking my head at the prat who's sitting with a wide grin.

As a table, we've ordered ginger bread cookies, brownies, a chocolate bomb cake and a number of different hot drinks. I've got my hands wrapped around a hot mug of hot chocolate, and right now, things feel much better than they have done in ages. Even if Levi's sitting opposite me.

We still haven't discussed the kiss and I'm starting to think it's better off that way. Especially when I see the same waitress coming over to our table to ask if there's anything else we need before giving Levi a coy smile. I don't realise I have a surly frown on my face till Oliver chuckles at it.

After a short while goes by, I'm almost convinced that this evening will go by normally. But then Oliver proposes that he wants to play a game of truth or dare, without the truth. Unluckily for him, Luke gets chosen to go first, despite all of us groaning at the idea.

"What do you want me to do?" he grumbles after taking a long gulp of his espresso.

"Right, I'll start off pretty tame," Oliver says, cracking his knuckles as he looks around the café to find some inspiration. His gaze falls on the plate of half-finished gingerbread cookies before us. He looks back up with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I dare you to put as many of those in your mouth as you can."

Luke looks flatly back at him. I expect him to shoot down the dare but he just shrugs. "Easy," he says before dragging the plate towards him.

"No way," Imogen suddenly interrupts, looking aghast. "I love those!"

But she's too late; Luke's already taken three of the cookies. We all look on in wonder as he proceeds to shove a surprisingly large amount of the biscuits into his mouth, showing a competitive side of himself that I never knew he had. He gets so confident and into the stride of things that he sends the waitress from earlier a wink as she walks by, making the whole thing even more ridiculous.

Finally, he puts away the last gingerbread cookie before raising a hand and making a noise which sounds vaguely like, 'Excuse me.' Luke then grabs a wad of tissues before spitting the biscuits into them.

"Oh my god," Imogen breathes, looking horrified as the rest of us laugh and groan at the same time.

"That was pretty impressive," Oliver admits, looking both admiring and astonished.

"What can I say, I have a big mouth." Luke grins, taking a small bow.

"Surprisingly, that made me feel like having some of those cookies," I say, feeling my stomach grumble. I get up and slide out of the booth. "I gonna go buy some."

"I'll come with you," Levi says, getting up too. My stomach flips as I stare at him, not knowing whether I want him to come with me or stay. Reddening, I mutter, "Fine," before heading off, not before I notice Oliver throwing a smirk at Luke.

Together, we both make our way down to the till, all the time my heart stammering erratically. I make my order to the same girl at the till, who looks annoyingly pleased to see Levi again. As she walks off to go and get our order, Levi leans on the counter and turns his head to face me.

"We can't ignore what happened in the library forever, you know," he abruptly says, springing the sentence on me completely without warning.

"Ignore?" I sputter, widening my eyes as I frantically attempt to collect my thoughts. " I... I don't even know what you're going on about." I cringe at my pretty sad response, despite thinking it's not even my fault. Why on earth is suddenly talking about the kiss?

"I just wanted to say something," Levi says, glancing away from me. Curiosity sweeps over me when I see that he appears faintly hesitant. Look at me again, he speaks. "I wanted to say I'm sorry,"

I stare back at him surprise. "What?"

Levi looks at me seriously. "I get how the kiss came from nowhere, and how ever since you've been pushing yourself away- it kind of makes sense," he says, his words a fast rush.