Cwtch Me If You Can

by Beth Reekles

  ‘I should go.’

  ‘Need me to call you a taxi?’ Sean asks, eyes twinkling.

  I roll my eyes. ‘Very funny.’

  When I walk away from him, I’m smiling.

  Chapter Seven

  I’m working the next day. It’s late Thursday morning, and it’s slow. Cerys and I have already dissected my so-called date with Will, and are talking about her plans for her anniversary with her girlfriend next week (they’re going to a cottage in St Ives) when Sean walks in.

  I turn away from the door to look at Cerys, my eyes as wide as they can go. Her eyes are just as wide, and the only difference in our expressions is that she’s smiling.

  ‘Shut up,’ I hiss, but she only stifles a giggle. I turn back so I’m facing the counter, trying my best to look calm and collected. Sean’s still in the doorway, looking for a table – or at least pretending to – and he’s with two other guys.

  The other guys, who I guess are his mates, look at me in a way that they probably think is subtle, but isn’t, and then they look at each other, raising eyebrows and pulling faces. Sean turns to them, pointing at a table.

  After last night, I don’t know what I should say to him. That’s the second time he’s comforted me, and I don’t know how to thank him for it. I also don’t know if he did it because he cares about me, or just because he’s a nice guy.

  One of the guys glances back over at me, and I stare down at my nails, trying to look as if I’m not bothered by any of this. I really need to sort out my cuticles, I think, getting distracted. Then they’re standing in front of me.

  ‘Hi,’ says Sean.

  ‘Hi.’ My voice gives me away – it comes out squeaky and nervous. I clear my throat. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘I’ll have a medium latte,’ says one of his mates, pushing Sean aside. Is it just a coincidence that they’ve all come here when I’m working? I can’t tell. Are they here acting like wingmen?Or are they just trying to make Sean feel awkward?

  I sort out the latte, and the other guy’s large mocha and a cookie, and they go off to a table on the other side of the room, leaving me at the counter with Sean. Cerys announces that she’s going to clean some tables and make sure there’s enough milk out. I grab her arm but she shrugs me off.

  Leaving me and Sean, effectively, alone.

  I’m not nervous. I don’t have any reason to be nervous.

  ‘So,’ I say, after drawing in a deep breath. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Latte, please. Medium.’

  ‘Any goodies?’ I gesture at the glass case of cakes and sweet things.

  ‘Are you on the menu?’ He winks, and I can’t help but burst out laughing.

  I say, ‘Sean, are you flirting with me?’

  His grin is mischievous. ‘Sorry, but you left that line open for the taking. I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘So no cakes?’

  ‘No cakes.’

  I put it through the till, and as I’m making the latte, I say to Sean, trying my best to be casual, ‘Did you, um, did you go back home for the holidays?’

  ‘Yeah, but I came back a couple of days ago. It’s a bit easier to revise here. A little more peace and quiet, and I’m working, too, so…’

  ‘Yeah. Fair enough.’

  ‘How about you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not that far away. It’s not long on the train to come into work, or if they want me on the early shift, I can stay in the house here rather than at home. But that’s kind of lonely, because none of the girls are back yet. Their uni term doesn’t start again for a little while.’

  He nods, and I push the latte across the counter to him. I don’t let go of it before he wraps his hand around the cup – so around my hand, too. I blush, and my hand starts to sweat. Only I can’t take it away and wipe it on my trousers. That would be even more embarrassing. Oh, man, I hope he can’t tell my palms are sweating.

  I look up from the latte and our hands to see Sean studying my face. He meets my eyes. I gulp.

  ‘Are you still hung up on that guy from last night?’

  ‘Actually, I think I’m finally over him. Last night was just… closure. I mean, I thought I loved him, but now I’m starting to think that I just fell for all the romantic gestures, you know? I know it sounds shallow, but…’

  ‘It doesn’t sound shallow.’

  ‘I’m over him,’ I say, sure of it now. I told Cathy the same last night, over the phone, when I got home, and she was totally speechless. She said that it looked like I might be growing up.

  ‘In that case…’ The corner of Sean’s lips twist up. ‘What would you say to going out to dinner with me?’

  I’m totally thrown. He’s blushing a little, and I think I must be, too.

  I want to say yes, so badly. But I think about every reason I have to say no, and all the times my heart has already been broken, and I know what my answer should be.

  I sigh. ‘Sean…’

  ‘Or we could just go for coffee – only I thought you have enough of that here. We could go for drink somewhere? If you’d like?’

  I stare at him a little longer, speechless.

  ‘Like, on a date,’ he clarifies.

  ‘Oh. Right. Um, of course.’

  Like I didn’t already know that’s what you meant.

  ‘Of course as in of course you’ll go out with me?’ His voice is bright, and hopeful. So is his smile. That wonderful, gorgeous smile.

  ‘Sean, I… I don’t think it’s such a good idea.’

  ‘If you really don’t fancy me, or whatever, then tell me. It’s okay. I’m a big boy, I can take it.’ He’s joking, but it’s half-hearted.

  ‘No, it’s not that. Look, this isn’t the best time. What with trying to keep on top of my coursework, and my job, I’ve got enough on my plate without starting a new relationship, you know? I’m sorry.’

  I don’t mention that, knowing my luck, any relationship wouldn’t go anywhere anyway. Sean’s in his final year of his degree. He might do his teacher training somewhere else. I might never see him again after his exams, if he goes back home for the summer and then goes somewhere else to become a teacher.

  We’re just not meant to be.

  Because even though we keep running into each other, there’s no such thing as fate.

  The more I think about dating Sean, the more I convince myself it’ll end in heartbreak, and the more I convince myself I’m jinxed when it comes to romance.

  Sean smiles at me. ‘That’s okay. I understand. Your college class is important, and it’s great that you’re working so hard at it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I really am.’

  ‘Don’t be. I understand.’

  And from the genuine smile still on his face, I believe he does.

  ‘Well,’ he says then, reaching for a napkin from the pile nearby, ‘give me a pen. I’ll give you my number, and if you want a break from revision and work – a cup of tea, a few pints, whatever, then give me a call, and we can hang out. As mates, yeah?’

  I hand him the pen we use to write on the takeaway cups, and he carefully writes out his mobile number for me. I take it, and he takes his latte. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Seriously, any time. Just let me know.’

  ‘I will,’ I promise him. ‘I will.’

  I don’t.

  I don’t call him, that is, because I’m not that stupid.

  I know how this would work out: we’d start hanging out as mates, and then we’d grow close quickly, and end up kissing, then going on a couple of casual dates, then we’d sleep together because I’d be head over heels for him, and then things will break down and he’ll break my heart. Just like all the others.

  So even though a couple of times I type out a text to him about meeting up for drinks later in the evening, or grabbing lunch somewhere to catch up, I don’t go through with it. I delete the texts and toss my phone aside. And I definitely don’t call him.

  ‘I want to, don’t get me wrong,’ I tell Cathy over the phone. I
’ve got my mobile tucked between my cheek and my shoulder, and I hunch over in my desk chair in my room, painting my toenails. They’re a fierce, bright blue. ‘But…’

  ‘I’ve gotta be honest, I really didn’t think you were serious about this whole no-dating thing. You cried over that movie, John Tucker Must Die, for Christ’s sake. You cried over Mitch and Cam’s wedding in Modern Family. You’re hopeless for romance.’

  ‘Are you always going to bring that up?’

  ‘You know it.’

  I sigh, and say, ‘Look, I just know this is never going to work. I’m trying to be sensible and save myself the heartache.’

  ‘And you’re missing out on a lot of fun in the meantime. Come on, he’s a nice guy! Why don’t you just go out as friends? Make it a group thing. I’ll come along, and you can get

  him to bring some mates, too. And then even if you two don’t get together, maybe I’ll hook up with one of his mates.’

  She laughs, and I roll my eyes, because she can’t see me do it. ‘I told you. I can’t just be friends with him.’

  ‘Please, you haven’t even tried!’

  ‘He is literally everything I could want in a guy. Smart. Good-looking. Funny. Nice. Lives kind of near. Has an idea of what he wants to do with his life. I cannot hang out with a guy like that and not fall for him.’

  ‘If he’s so perfect, then –’

  I groan. ‘We’re going round in circles. Can we just not talk about Sean any more, please?’

  ‘Fine,’ she mumbles. ‘But you brought him up.’

  ‘Are you definitely coming back to the house tomorrow?’ The girls have exams coming up soon. Julia’s on holiday and won’t be back here for a week yet, and Ellie’s coming back on Wednesday, on the train. I’ve only been here a couple of days on my own, but it already feels lonely.

  ‘Of course I am.’ We start talking about how we need to buy more soap and bleach for the house bathroom, and whether Cathy should take a break from revision with a girly movie night with me later this week.

  She tries to bring up the subject of Sean again, but I avoid it. All the talk of Sean, and relationships, is making me think about what a mess all my other relationships have been.

  I look under my bed, thinking about the train-wreck that is my love life history, and I’m distracted for the rest of the call.

  After I hang up the phone, and finish painting my toes, I reach underneath my bed and pull out the four shoeboxes there.

  I take the lids off and look inside them, thinking about the four guys who broke my heart. And I think, I deserve better than to hang on to all this crap.

  I grab the oldest shoebox. I suck in a deep breath, and upturn the box into my bin.

  I pick up the second box.

  I’m purging, I tell myself. I’m getting rid of all this bad energy. The next shoebox gets emptied into my bin, too.

  Maybe I should have burned all of this a long time ago, I think, looking at the now empty shoeboxes and my overflowing bin. Maybe burning it would make me feel better.

  Then there’s the final shoebox, with everything from my relationship with Will. The heart necklace he gave me is on the top, catching the light. I remember how happy I was when he gave it to me. How in love I was.

  I’ve always believed in love. In romance. In butterflies in my stomach telling me he’s The One! and that feeling so strong and so consuming that it could only be love.

  Now, the necklace clatters as it knocks against the metal of my bin. It’s a satisfying sort of sound.

  Looking at all the crap in my bin, I start thinking that maybe I never actually loved any of them, not really. I got caught up in the romance, but that’s not the same.

  I didn’t feel whatever I feel for Sean for any of the others.

  And if I’m being honest with myself, whatever I do feel for Sean scares me.

  Chapter Eight

  Without any warning, Cathy bursts into my room. She’s wearing her dressing gown, and holds up two dresses for me to see. One is a little black bodycon, and the other is bright blue, silky, with white flowers on.

  Cathy rarely asks for second opinions on her outfits. She’s so self-confident – I’ve always admired her for it. So I immediately know that something is up.

  ‘Why do you look so stressed out?’

  ‘I don’t look stressed out. Do I?’ She throws the dresses on my bed and leans down to my desk mirror to inspect her face. She’s frowning, so I don’t think she can argue with me. My best friend takes a deep breath before picking her dresses back up.

  ‘Okay. Which one?’

  ‘Why are you getting so worked up? I thought it was just a house party.’

  When she told me earlier that there was a party some guy had invited her to, and she didn’t want to chill out watching a cheesy chick flick or reading Sherlock fan-fiction again, she’d been really upbeat. ‘I need a break from revision. I wake up in the middle of the night reeling off German grammar. I need a break, Alex, and you’re coming with me. And don’t say no, because you haven’t got any classes tomorrow, and you’re not working, either, so you have no excuses.’

  Now, I get it.

  The guy who’s invited her.

  That’s why she’s freaking out about what to wear.

  ‘Ohmigod,’ I exclaim. ‘There’s a guy. Spill.’

  She blushes. ‘He’s just a guy. I mean, a friend. You know? He just asked me because he was being polite. We were talking about revision and he mentioned that the guys in his house were having a party, so invited me. Us. That’s all.’

  ‘Right,’ I scoff, not believing it for a second. ‘So you don’t like him at all?’

  She laughs, throwing her head back. ‘Oh, I didn’t say that.’

  I laugh too, and tell her to wear the blue dress – it makes her boobs look good, and doesn’t show as much skin as the black one. ‘Classy is sexy,’ I say.

  Cathy goes back to her room to dress, and I pick out something from my own wardrobe to wear. I doubt I’ll know anyone there – I’m only really going for Cathy – and I’m not out to impress anyone, either. I go for a plain pink jersey dress with a skirt that swings around my knees and sleeves to my elbows, and pair it with some ankle boots.

  I learnt after one unfortunate incident, when a girl behind me threw up, that sandals are hardly ever a good idea at a house party.

  The neckline is low on my dress, and I rummage through my tangled collection of necklaces before going to Cathy’s room to look through hers.

  After I picked one out with a big, oval stone that’s deep black and shiny, Cathy asks me to help curl her hair. She doesn’t usually go to the effort, so this guy must be something special.

  I stand behind her at her desk, with curling tongs, and we look at each other’s reflections in her mirror as we chat.

  ‘I’m so jealous of your hair, Al,’ she sighs. My thick, dark hair hangs in unruly waves to my shoulders. I see that it’s actually bordering on frizzy, despite all the mousse I used. I’d usually straighten it, but tonight I can’t be bothered. It’s not like I’ve got anybody to impress at this party.

  I lift a section of Cathy’s silky blonde hair. ‘At least your hair doesn’t need ten different products to keep it under control.’

  We walk to the house, since it’s not far away and neither of us is wearing heels, and show up around nine o’clock. The house is three storeys, tall and thin, but it’s bursting with activity. There are a few people sitting on the pavement outside smoking and as we walk past, I smell that it’s pot they’re smoking, not cigarettes.

  We push past people clustered in the doorway to get into the house, and find that the party is in full swing. There’s music coming from the kitchen and different music coming from the living room, and people on the stairs either snogging or just chatting and drinking.

  I don’t see anybody I know, and glance at Cathy. She looks just as lost as I do.

  I look at Cathy. ‘What now?’

  She bites her lip, a de
termined look on her face, still looking around. I can guess who she’s looking for.

  ‘Maybe he’s in the kitchen?’ I suggest, and she nods. We make our way through, and take the opportunity to sort ourselves out some drinks – lemonade for me, and a glass of wine for Cathy. While we stand there sipping our drinks, Cathy scans the crowd.

  We don’t have any luck there, or in the living room, or the dining room, but we do find him in the garden. He looks familiar, but I can’t think where I’ve seen him. Cathy introduces us.

  ‘Alex, this is Simon. Simon, this is my best friend, Alex, the one I told you about.’

  We say hi to each other, and Simon looks at me funny – like he recognises me as well, but can’t remember where he’s seen me before. I think about asking him, but Cathy puts a hand on Simon’s bicep and starts telling him what a great party it is, and how grateful she is for the break from revision.

  I linger for a couple of minutes, mostly silent. They talk and joke like they’ve known each other forever. From the way that Cathy’s face lights up when he smiles at her, I decide that maybe I should give them some time alone.

  In fact I feel like a complete third wheel already, and they’re barely touching.

  ‘I’m just, um… I’m going to go to the bathroom,’ I say, finally finding an excuse.

  Cathy’s eyes flicker back to me briefly, and I see a pang of guilt there. She feels bad that she brought me to this party and now she’s ditched me for a boy. But it’s okay. That’s what best friends are for, right?

  I’ll just mingle for a while.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ I tell her, with a smile. To Simon, I add, ‘It was nice to meet you.’

  ‘Yeah, you too.’ He looks pretty glad that I’m leaving them alone.

  I weave through the ground floor of the house, smiling at people I don’t know and somehow getting into a conversation with a group of people about a band playing at the Motorpoint Arena in a couple of weeks.

  After a while, I try to find Cathy again, but I can’t see her anywhere.

  I hope she’s having a good time with Simon, if she’s still with him.