I mime looking at my watch, because it was only when I looked down at my wrist to check the time that I remembered I don’t actually wear one. ‘Well, I should get back home,’ I say.
‘Oh, of course.’
Does he sound slightly disappointed? We’re only a couple of streets away from my bus stop. All the possibilities are now contained within these two streets. But conversation has dried up. I’ve broken the spell. We can’t pick the threads back up now. We walk on in silence until we reach the bus stop.
We stand facing each other – my heart is beating so hard that it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him and kiss him so I can find out what it feels like to be that close to him. Joe breathes deeply and fixes me with a serious look. Oh my God, can he read my thoughts? Does he know I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss him?
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said last night about media by women. Maybe you’re right. Do you reckon you could make me a playlist to show me what I’m missing?’ he says.
I blush. I feel light-headed. ‘Huh, that was a quick turnaround,’ I say.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ he says, scratching his head and smiling that completely devastating smile of his. ‘It was just hard to be put on the spot like that.’
‘Well . . . thank you for thinking about it, I guess,’ I reply. ‘And, sure, playlists are kind of my speciality, so I’ll see what I can do.’
I look over his shoulder at the bus timer countdown. Its orange LED display tells me it’s coming in one minute. I don’t ever want it to appear. But there are no excuses any more, no reason to prolong the evening. We’ve had a good run. As a bus rounds the corner, my heart sinks . . . but it’s not my bus! I still have time! Time for what? What do I want? The first bus, the not-my-bus, pulls away, and behind it, hulking into view, is mine. Game over. I stick my arm out so it’ll stop.
‘I had a really good time,’ I say as the bus pulls up next to me.
‘Me too. I’m glad I waited outside your school like a weird creep,’ he says, chuckling.
The sexiest weird creep there ever was.
‘You can be a weird creep any time,’ I reply.
Everyone else has got on the bus.
‘You’d better go! Buses wait for no man. Or girl,’ Joe says, drawing me in for a hug.
And what happens next is something that I can only describe as feeling like an out-of-body experience. I look him in the eye for a second as we pull apart, and in that split second, my brain and my body separate. I kiss him. On the lips. When we separate, his mouth has formed a tiny ‘o’ of shock. He says nothing.
I hop on to the bus just before the doors close, and it pulls away mercifully quickly.
I dare to take a backwards look out of the window as we’re driving away, and Joe’s still there, just standing motionless at the bus stop. Oh my God! What have I done? Everything was going so well – why would I do that? No, wait, I did that because everything was going so well. I was lured into a false sense of security. Oh God, how unbelievably embarrassing. I don’t do things like that. And I don’t do things like that for a good reason – they just don’t turn out well! Why would this time be any different at all? I feel hot all over. Who wants to get pounced on in public by a fat girl?
I check my phone. No message. Why would he have messaged me? Oh no, is this going to be the beginning of some interminable waiting process where I spend the next week checking my phone for a message to clear the air, and the message never comes, and eventually I just go mad instead? Why did I open this particular can of worms? Why couldn’t I just be grateful for what I had?
I can’t get comfortable in my seat on the bus; I can feel the divide between my seat and the one next to me pressing into the bottom of my thigh. I catch myself reflected in the dark window pane and wish I could shrink myself down from this great, hulking mess of a person to someone dainty and dignified. Someone loveable. I try to sit up, try to give myself a little help with my posture, but it’s no good. Nothing so minor could help me. I’m beyond help. Joe’s arms had to go so far to reach around me, no wonder he was surprised when I kissed him.
I need backup.
The fact that Camila has finally decided to break the ice between us is all that gets me through the bus ride home without crying.
‘Nice of you to join us,’ my dad calls cheerily from the kitchen as I push the door closed.
At least I’m still in time for dinner.
‘Sorry – I just met a friend after school,’ I say, hanging up my coat and slumping into a seat at the kitchen table.
‘I’ve made pork belly for dinner. Of course, Mum is having something else . . .’
‘Oh no, she’s not still on her Wellness thing is she?’ I groan.
‘I think so, but this is something else – something about blood type. I’ve stopped asking,’ he says, shaking his head.
Mum carries in a plate of raw vegetables. Bleak. I try to put Joe out of my mind while we eat, but that image of his shocked face and the feeling of a hard, unready mouth against mine keep floating back to me like a bad dream. I feel dizzy with embarrassment as I eat, barely tasting the food.
‘Earth to Emily?’ Dad’s voice floats to me as I’m replaying the scene yet again.
‘Oh, sorry, Dad. I was a million miles away.’ Actually, only about one mile away and one hour ago, but still . . . very much not here.
‘I was asking if you wanted any more pork; I made too much,’ he says, casting a glance at Mum as he heads for the kitchen.
‘Sure, why not,’ I say noncommittally.
‘Or you could have some of this?’ Mum gestures at the raw vegetables on her plate.
‘It barely looks like enough for you, let alone me as well.’
‘It’s more than enough for me,’ she replies tersely. ‘We eat far more food than we need to as a culture.’ She looks haughty and superior, like she’s secure in the knowledge that she’s unlocked the secret to eternal life.
‘Have you ever considered that your bad mood might be caused by the fact you’re permanently malnourished?’ I say, deliberately dropping my knife and fork from a height so they clatter on to the plate. ‘Maybe if you ate more normally, you’d be able to have a conversation with people about something other than food.’
Before anyone has a chance to speak, the doorbell rings. Saved by the bell.
‘Camila’s here – I should answer it,’ I say, plodding off to the front door. The relief of seeing her standing there is immense.
In that moment, I know that we’re back to normal.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I say as I flop on to my bed with a huge sigh.
‘That’s OK – you seemed stressed . . .’ Camila smiles gently. ‘And I’m kind of bored of avoiding you, you know?’ she says, sitting down on the floor.
‘I’m really, really, extremely glad to hear that.’
‘I know I overreacted. You don’t have to tell me.’
‘OK. I won’t,’ I say as a warm feeling spreads through me. I can’t help smiling. ‘I’m not a threat to your relationship, I promise.’
‘I know – it’s irrational of me. Just hearing that Ryan liked you made me feel so scared of losing him. It’s so stupid, and I wanted to be better than that, but I’m clearly not,’ she says, biting her lip and stroking the pile of the carpet one way and then back the other like you would a cat. ‘I feel so bad for taking it out on you; it was just so stupid of me. I guess getting a boyfriend has made me go a bit mad.’
‘Uncharted territory, innit.’
She shrugs. ‘I’m really sorry.’
We sit in silence for a moment, just happy to be together. Happy to not be nursing a stupid, pointless grudge.
‘So, is having a boyfriend totally amazing?’ I finally ask.
Camila instantly lights up. ‘Kind of, yeah. It’s just nice having someone who you know is always on your team, you know? Like someone who’s meant to care specifically
about you,’ she says. ‘Someone who makes you feel good.’
‘Does he make you feel good, then?’
‘Having a boyfriend makes me feel good,’ she says, blushing and flicking a glance at me as though anxiously anticipating my reaction.
‘I’m glad,’ I say, slightly stiffly. ‘Do you think that you getting a boyfriend has anything to do with . . . you know . . .’ I can’t bring myself to spell it out, but I don’t have to.
Camila blushes again and lowers her eyes. ‘I don’t, actually,’ she says, shrugging. ‘He said he’d been thinking about asking me out all summer while I was away. I don’t think it has anything to do with it. It’s just a thing that happened.’
‘Oh yeah, I kind of . . . keep forgetting about that,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me at the moment. I don’t feel like classic Emily. It feels like all these little things keep piling up to make me question myself, to make me feel insecure when I don’t want to. Whether it’s my mum’s stuff worming its way into my brain, or massively overthinking everything about Joe, or even some random dude on the street calling me a fat bitch, which was ages ago, but it’s just all working together to stress me out. I feel like I should be better than all of this, that in my heart I know I am better than all of this, but also it’s really hard sometimes to feel like I’m keeping my head above water.’
‘That’s a lot you’ve got going on, pal.’ Camila sighs, hoisting herself up on the bed next to me. She reaches out to stroke my arm.
‘Yeah.’
‘Let’s start with one item on the list. So, you’re stressed and need someone to calm you down about making a move on Joe, right?’
‘Right. But it sort of doesn’t seem that important now. I feel like an actual idiot for kissing him, and I really wish I had just left it alone and not tried to push my luck . . . To be honest, I’m just happy to see you.’
‘Wait, catch me up. What’s gone on with him since we last spoke? It sounds like you two have got pretty close if you’re going around trying to kiss him.’
I go over to my record player and put on the Hairpins record Joe gave me, sit back down next to Camila, take a deep breath, and begin to fill her in. And she listens. And she makes me feel better. She calms me, makes me feel like it’s, well, in the words of the Hairpins, like it’s ‘No Big Deal’.
We spend the rest of the evening just chatting. About boys, about school, about what’ll happen next year, about music. She might not be as high energy as Abi, but she’s comforting to have around, and I’m grateful to have her back in my life.
Alone in my room later that night after Camila has left, I lie back on my bed and put the record back to the beginning. I let myself slip gloriously into the relentless, jagged fuzz of the music and Lee Klein’s wild voice and try to empty my mind of thoughts. There’s too much going on in there. But at least now Camila is one less thing to worry about.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘That’s Us/Wild Combination’ –
Arthur Russell
The next day, I stop by Beats Per Minute uninvited. I say ‘stop by’. That makes it sound like I was just passing, rather than deliberately going into Croydon at the end of Joe’s working day to make sure I got to the shop when there would be no customers to distract him. I wanted this to be as precise and rehearsed as my kiss was uncontrolled and spontaneous.
The words go around in my head: I’msorryitwasamistakeIdidn’twanttomakeyoufeeluncomfortable. A carousel of apologies and backtracking. I know it’s not brave of me, but I just want us to be able to pretend it didn’t happen, to just go back to normal. Shove the awkwardness back into its box.
I’m wearing a red tea dress with leopard-print flats in the hope that it instils some kind of power and confidence in me. Fake it till you make it.
I reach Beats Per Minute exactly as planned, ten minutes before it closes, and I’m relieved to find it’s not shut already. Breathe, Emily. Just say what you came here to say. Take control of this situation. Don’t sit at home wondering what he’s thinking. Just stay calm and be the boss.
Pushing open the door, I can see that the shop is empty of customers, but, thank God, not empty of Joe. My heart skips a beat. He jumps up from the stool behind the counter and brushes off his jumper, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
‘Can I . . . help you?’ he asks awkwardly.
I clear my throat and take a breath. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,’ I say calmly. Might as well just launch into it so I don’t chicken out. ‘I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and I’m sorry if, in one moment of madness, I made you feel like you don’t want to hang out with me any more. I had started to see you as a friend. Someone I enjoy spending time with. And I don’t want to have to just throw that away because of . . . well, the thing. But I understand if you think it’s weird and don’t want to hang out any more.’ I roll a loose thread from the hem of my dress between my fingers.
Joe just stares at me. The wait for him to speak feels interminable.
‘Oh . . .’ he says.
Oh. Is that it?
‘Oh, what?’ I reply slightly too quickly out of irritation. Keep it cool, Emily. Don’t let your nerves get the better of you.
‘I . . . guess I had a slightly different view on it,’ he says, ‘but if that’s how you feel, then . . .’
‘Try me,’ I say decisively.
‘I actually wanted to apologize to you myself,’ he says. ‘For reacting the way I did. Or rather, for not reacting.’
I made such an effort to be clear with him, and now he repays me with this cryptic chat? I try to unpick it in my brain as he walks over to the door and flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ before continuing, leaning his back against the plate glass, keeping a distance between us.
‘It was especially weird of me because you did the exact thing I had wanted to do all evening but hadn’t found the right moment for. I think I’ve . . . like . . . I don’t know . . . I guess you could say I’ve developed feelings for you.’
My mouth goes dry. I feel nauseous. I have a funny feeling I’m the one making the blank, surprised face right now.
‘But I get it if you just want to be friends,’ he says. ‘I had been wondering what would be the right thing to do.’
What’s the most cool, chilled-out way that I can leap into his arms and smother his face in kisses and say, No no no – all I want is for you to love me forever. Kiss me now and never stop?
‘Whatever you think is best,’ I say. What? No! That’s not being the boss! That’s too chilled out. I don’t want him to think I don’t care. My ongoing problem is I care a bit too much.
Joe stands up straighter. He looks me in the eye and opens his mouth to speak.
‘No, wait . . .’ I begin again.
I’m not going to let this opportunity slip out of my hands because I’m scared. What am I scared of anyway? Scared of putting myself out there; scared of doing something other than ‘play it cool’; scared of comparing myself to the other girls in his life; scared to believe that someone could be interested in me even though I’m fat. Those are not things I want to be scared of even though they might be true, and I’m not going to let them get the better of me this time.
‘Feelings,’ I say, swallowing, trying to buy time. ‘I have feelings for you, too. I feel a lot for you. And I don’t just want to be your friend. Not that that’s not good enough . . . God, I hate that expression. It makes it sound like “friends” is such a chore, just a consolation prize for, I don’t know, romance and stuff. But I want to be your friend, and I want to try all that other stuff too, with you.’ Wow, I really went for it. I want to close my eyes so I don’t have to see Joe’s reaction. Did I go too far?
Joe opens his arms. ‘Come here,’ he says.
And I walk to him. It feels like the longest three steps of my life. I stand in front of him, wondering what comes next and wondering why I feel like it’s up to him. He pulls me
in and kisses me. Properly kisses me. Not the second-long, closed-mouth, chaste peck of last night. This is something else. Something new. Something soft and warm. Something that manages to be comforting and exciting all at the same time. My heart races; my head spins. I’m glad his arms are around me so that I don’t just collapse to the floor in shock.
We finally pull apart, and I can’t help but laugh.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Joe asks, awkwardly stroking my hair.
I can only assume it’ll get less awkward when we get used to each other.
‘I don’t know. I guess because I thought I was coming here to clear the air and clear my name of being a little weirdo pouncing on you last night,’ I say.
‘And instead you got pounced on,’ he replies, smiling.
‘Yeah. I like to think I know everything, but it feels like lately I don’t know anything.’ I shake my head. ‘This has been a good kind of surprise.’
‘Yes,’ he says, and wraps his arms around me again.
We kiss for what feels like an eternity. He links his fingers through mine. I’ve never held hands with anyone before.
Joe pulls back to look at me. ‘You know, the first time you came here, I was trying so hard to play it cool that I even pretended I couldn’t remember your name.’
No Big Deal Page 14
