Soulmates

by Holly Bourne

  Johnno stood there awkwardly for a moment more, like he was trying to build up the courage to say something, but then bottled it and practically ran out of the canteen.

  The moment he’d gone, the rest of us dissolved into hysteria.

  “Oh my God,” Lizzie said, tears in her eyes. “You two are so funny.”

  Amanda looked at her in dismay.

  “You really are,” Ruth added. “You’re like the two shyest people I’ve ever come across in my whole seventeen years. How you even got together is a miracle of science.”

  Amanda looked like she was going to cry. I could see the angry comebacks forming in her mind, never to be expelled. Then she shook her head and grinned.

  “Shut up,” she said. “Okay, I know we’re both a little…repressed…”

  Her choice of word made us lose control again.

  “But we’ll get there. Anyway…” She struggled to build the courage to say the next sentence. “…At least I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  Ruth, Lizzie and I looked at each other, still laughing and raised our eyebrows.

  “Now that is true,” I said, moving into Johnno’s seat and putting my arm around her. “We shouldn’t mock you. You are, after all, the only one who’s found somebody.”

  “I find somebody about once a week,” Ruth said and the hysterics began again.

  The girls at the table next to us looked at us like we were mad, which only made us laugh harder.

  When we had finally regained our self-control, I turned to Amanda again. “So, are you coming?”

  She gulped but I knew she was going to give in. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go to the pub.”

  “Brilliant.” I stood and looked at the clock. I had less than five minutes to get across campus to my next lesson. “Meet you all outside the gates after college.”

  They nodded, and I turned and made my way towards class.

  The rest of the afternoon passed pretty quickly.

  I feigned concentration during Psychology, and double Photography took me through to the end of the day. I hid myself away in the calming red light of the darkroom and listened to my iPod while I processed some David Bailey-style photos I’d taken of Ruth. The mixture of music and darkness soothed me as images came to life in the developer liquid. But my calmness evaporated the moment the final bell went. I ran to the girls’ toilets, poured out the contents of my make-up bag into the sink and got to work making myself semi-presentable. Five minutes later and I was…improved. On the outside at least. My insides still felt like unset jelly.

  I worked on my game plan as I made my way to the gates. It consisted of two words: “stay cool”. So easy in theory, without Noah there to distract me. Ruth, Amanda and Lizzie were waiting for me at the entrance. They all looked slightly more made-up than at lunchtime, so I obviously wasn’t the only one who’d made a last-minute dash to the ladies’.

  “You ready?” I said, linking arms with Lizzie.

  “Of course, of course,” she replied.

  I grabbed Amanda’s arm, who was already linking with Ruth, and wondered if girls ever grew out of the arm-link. I hoped we wouldn’t.

  “I can’t wait to get my hands on that bassist,” Ruth said. “I decided to seduce him while I was bored in Travel and Tourism.”

  “Honestly, woman. You are such a perv,” Lizzie said, mock-outraged.

  Ruth shrugged her shoulders. “Just treating men like they’ve been treating us since the dawn of time. It’s role reversal. It’s empowerment. It’s feminism.”

  I laughed. “All valid points, Ruth, but I’m with Lizzie. You’re just a perv – using half-baked ideals about equality to cover up your bad habit.”

  Ruth looked proud of herself. “Maybe.”

  We flip-flopped our way towards the pub, the sun still shining high in the sky. When we arrived, the band wasn’t there yet. We shuffled in nervously, using Ruth as our confidence. The Lock and Key was an overly trendy pub, very typical of Middletown. It had supposedly groovy purple lighting and high bar stools with red velvet covers. The place attracted up-themselves young professionals – the sort who liked to roll their shirtsleeves up and laugh loudly while necking a four pound bottle of beer with an “edgy” label. We usually avoided the place. The female manager had a nasty habit of ID-ing young girls more attractive than her, but luckily she wasn’t on duty today. We pushed Ruth to the front and, without hesitation, she confidently ordered four bottles of Corona and lime. The barman, a skinny guy with hair that must’ve taken at least half an hour to craft, took her money without question and pulled the tops off for us. Ruth expertly handed them over before leading us into the beer garden.

  I looked down at my drink, bemusedly, as we followed her outside.

  “Since when do we drink beer?” I whispered to Lizzie.

  “Since we’ve been invited out by a cool band.” She took a short swig. “Hmmm, not entirely awful,” she said, wiping her mouth with her hand.

  The saving grace of the Lock and Key was the beer garden, especially on such a sunny day. The owners had presumably spent huge amounts of money hiring a landscape architect, who’d sculpted the space into something almost magical. Hedges and trees hid tucked-away tables, while twinkling lights and electronic heaters gave the place a fairy-tale glow after sunset. Right then though, it was still blisteringly hot and many tables had already been taken by groups of slightly sweaty businessmen, who were trying to look cool by rolling up their trouser legs and wandering around barefoot.

  Ruth steered us towards the last large table and sat on the central seat with the best view of the pub’s back door. She pulled out a pair of massive red sunglasses, wrapped them round her face, then took a long drink of her beer.

  “Ahhhh,” she said. “This is the life.”

  I looked down at my drink and tentatively took a small sip. It actually wasn’t bad. I took another, larger sip, and tried to forget Noah would be arriving imminently.

  We spent a while pretending to be interested in making conversation, but the atmosphere was tense. We were all nervous. Well, Amanda and I were for sure. Ruth’s eyes snapped towards the door whenever it opened, surveying everyone who walked through, and sizing up any girl who dared intrude. Meanwhile I replayed the words play it cool play it cool play it cool over and over.

  I felt him arrive before I saw him.

  My throat closed up, my heart attack started and the faintness hit me full force. I gulped on my beer to try and calm myself. Big mistake. The liquid gushed down the wrong tube. My eyes bulged and I started choking. Then there was a sudden feeling of burning on my back. I was being thumped. I couldn’t see who it was but feared the worst – every time the hand made contact with my back, it fire-blasted my skin through my thin vest top. It had to be Noah. After four giant whacks, I could breathe again. Tears were running down my face as I gasped in precious air and pulled myself together.

  I slowly looked up to survey the damage.

  Lots of confused faces stared back at me. I noticed the singer from the band, and two other boys who had to be the bassist and the drummer. Lizzie and Amanda were giving me What the hell? looks. Ruth was stifling laughter, obviously ecstatic I’d made such a show of myself again. And there was Noah, crouching in front of me, a massive smirk on his face.

  “Wow, Poppy,” he said dryly. “You really know how to turn a guy on, don’t you?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hanky. “Here.” He handed it over. “You’ve got mascara running down your face.”

  Blushing, I snatched the hanky off him and dabbed it around my eyes. “Thanks,” I said. “But seriously, Noah – what sort of guy carries a HANKY round with them? What are you? A character from an Enid Blyton story or something?”

  Everyone laughed, except him.

  “You’re making it worse,” he said. “You’re just smudging your make-up round your face. Aww bless, did you get all made-up just for me?”

  I scowled in return. “You wish.”

 
He looked hurt for a second, then stood up and threw a hand out to his bandmates.

  “Boys, this gorgeous choking girl is Poppy Lawson.” I waved, still mortified. “And this,” he continued, “is Ruth, Lizzie and Amanda.”

  Lizzie waved back maniacally, Amanda squeaked hello, and Ruth coolly acknowledged them with an aloof wiggle of her fingers. God, life is unfair.

  The boys sat down. I got wedged next to the singer guy, who told me his name was Ryan.

  “So, singing…” I said, taking a small neck of my beer and not choking this time. “What happened? Can you not play an instrument?”

  “Oi,” he said, but laughed. “My voice is the instrument.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows.

  “Actually that sounded really pretentious, didn’t it?” He looked worried, his blue eyes searched my face with genuine concern. Ryan, bless him, seemed to have that surprisingly common lead-singer problem of actually being shy and insecure in real life.

  “I’m just trying to cover the fact I’m musically dyslexic,” I said, hoping my own self-deprecation would calm his anxiety.

  “So you can’t play anything?”

  “Just the recorder when I was little. So what are your band’s influences then?”

  I let his enthusiastic babble wash over me and nodded whenever I heard key words like “The Smiths”, “The Libertines”, “The Clash”.

  As I smiled and nodded, I took in the scene around me. Ruth had, unsurprisingly, found herself in a Noah and Bassist sandwich. She was in full seduction mode again, batting her eyelashes at the bassist, who I think was called Will. Her back was deliberately turned to Noah, trying to prove what a catch she was and how uninterested she was in him simultaneously. Lizzie was talking to the drummer, Jack, about some political biography they’d both read. She was firing questions at him and arguing with every statement he made, but they seemed to be getting along. Amanda was listening intently to Ruth’s flirty banter and playing “best friend” by laughing hysterically at every slightly witty comment. And Noah…well, I hadn’t let myself look at Noah. Until now…

  I regretted it immediately.

  The moment I stole a glance, his eyes met mine instinctively, and I felt my chest tighten. He held my gaze steadily, the smile wiped from his face. I didn’t allow myself to breathe and I let whatever was passing between us pass. Every part of me yearned for him in a way completely new to me. I wanted to jump over the table, grab his face and taste him. Like an animal. It was terrifyingly overpowering and I could tell he felt the same. His hands were gripping the dry wood of the table. He looked…almost hungry. I realized then that all those bonkbuster chick-lit books I sneered at actually had it right; those tired old clichés were true. I wanted to devour him, rip his clothes off, consume him – all those melodramatic things I used to read aloud and laugh at. A tiny part of my brain was reminding myself to get a grip, but that flicker of logic was powerless against my body’s sensory overload.

  “Poppy?” I heard someone say. Was it him? It wasn’t. His eyes had lowered. The moment was over.

  “Poppy?”

  “Huh?” I snapped back to reality. It was Ryan talking.

  He had finished speaking and I obviously hadn’t noticed. He looked upset again, like he knew he wasn’t interesting enough to hold my attention, and I felt guilty.

  “I was just saying…” he went on, clasping and unclasping his hands. “…I was wondering who your favourite band is?”

  “Oh,” I said, frantically scanning my brain for a suitable answer. But it was oxygen-starved. I grasped for words. “The Beatles,” I heard myself say. Stock answer. No one can argue with The Beatles.

  “Really?” Ryan said. “Yeah well, I suppose you can’t argue with The Beatles.”

  Exactly.

  I could still feel Noah’s attention on me and began to feel a little sick. I needed to get away from him. He was like kryptonite or something. I couldn’t stand it.

  I stood up and felt my legs buckle slightly beneath me.

  “Hey, would you excuse me a sec?” I asked Ryan, grabbing his hand for support, not caring what he might think of the physical contact.

  “Of course.”

  “I just need to…er…get another drink…”

  And then everything went black.

  I regained consciousness before I opened my eyes.

  “Is she okay?” I heard a worried voice say. Maybe it was the drummer.

  “She’s fine.” That was Lizzie’s voice. “I think she just got too hot.”

  The realization of what had happened dawned on me. Humiliation seeped through my face and I felt my cheeks flush.

  “She’s still not awake. Should we call 999 or something?”

  I kept my eyes closed. That way I could pretend it wasn’t real.

  “Let’s tickle her,” I heard Noah say.

  He wouldn’t, would he?

  “Noah, are you really going to tickle her?”

  “Yep.”

  I knew if he touched me again I wouldn’t be able to handle it, so, cursing him silently, I reluctantly opened my eyes and let the scene come into focus.

  “See. She’s awake.”

  I was on my back. Squinting up against the sun, I could see everyone’s expressions. Ryan, Will and Jack looked absolutely terrified but were trying to hide it, pretending girls randomly passed out in beer gardens all the time. The girls, Ruth included, looked suitably concerned. It was just Noah laughing. I glared at him.

  “Wakey wakey,” he said. “Nice of you to join us.”

  I tried to sit up. Bad move. Everything lost focus again and I fought to stay conscious.

  “Careful now,” Lizzie said, kneeling down and letting me put my weight on her. “Let’s go to the ladies’ and get you sorted out.”

  My face burned. I hated my stupid body and its bad habits. “Sorry,” I said, stumbling to my feet. “I think I just got too hot. Didn’t drink enough water…”

  I leaned on Lizzie for support and she guided me expertly to the loos, Ruth and Amanda in tow.

  “Maybe you guys want to get another round in,” Lizzie called behind her. “We won’t be long.”

  I staggered into the toilets and Ruth put a loo seat down so I could sit. I fell onto it and put my face in my hands, willing myself to wake up from the nightmare. I practised my breathing exercises, counting in and out again, and gradually felt myself getting stronger.

  The toilets were insanely plush and over the top. Instead of a sink there was a stand-alone basin which spurted out water like a fountain. The walls were painted deep purple and adorned with giant gold-framed mirrors. I could see at least six images of myself reflected around the room.

  I looked a mess.

  When I got my breath back, I looked up at my friends.

  “Well, where the hell did that come from?” Lizzie said.

  I looked down at my flip-flops. “Sorry,” I said. “Twice in a week.”

  “What happened?” Ruth asked gently. I found it vaguely amusing that she was here playing the “caring friend” role. She obviously wanted to impress Will with her (fake) generous nature.

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

  “Was it another panic attack?” Amanda said. “It wasn’t like at the gig. You just passed out like a normal person.”

  I winced at the word “normal”. “No,” I said. “I don’t think it was another panic attack.”

  “Well, what was it then?”

  I had an idea but the words seemed stupid. I tried them anyway.

  “I dunno… It’s Noah…it’s like I’m allergic to him or something… Whenever I’m around him I feel like I’m in danger… No, that’s silly…I don’t know.”

  My friends looked confused.

  “You’re allergic to Noah?” Lizzie was sceptical.

  I half-smiled. “No. I’m just being stupid.”

  “Well, this has happened both times you’ve seen him,” Amanda said. “Maybe it’s his aftershave? Did your docto
r say you had any allergies that brought these things on?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s just a coincidence. Forget it.”

  It didn’t feel like a coincidence, but I knew I sounded like a madman and I didn’t like them all looking at me. I just wanted to go back to normal.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “You guys go back. I’ll sort my face out and meet you in five.”

  Lizzie put her hand on my shoulder. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Positive.”

  “Well, if you’re not out in five minutes I’m coming in to check on you.”

  “I’m fine. I just need a moment…you know…alone.”

  The girls filed out of the loos, leaving me alone in the ornate toilets.

  I got to my feet and wandered over to a mirror – my face falling when I saw my reflection. I didn’t look great. Mascara was smeared under my eyes and my forehead was covered in sweat.

  I pulled my hair back into a messy bun. Using some toilet paper, I carefully erased the black mess under my eyes and then reapplied some lip balm.

  I studied my reflection again. Okay. Slightly improved. It was going to be embarrassing to go back out there. I knew I must have put Noah off – there was no way he’d still fancy me after such a performance. But it was probably for the best. That was the plan, right? Don’t fall for him, don’t let him break your heart… Looking at the facts, two times I’d seen him, two times I’d lost consciousness. Coincidence or not, that wasn’t good.

  I took a deep breath and pushed my way through the toilet door, rehearsing the story in my head about being dehydrated.

  Noah was waiting outside. I jumped when I saw him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He looked gorgeous leaning against the wall, his eyes worried, mouth downturned. This was going to be hard, but I knew what I needed to do. I was already going crazy and I’d only met him a few days before.

  “S’okay,” I said, playing with a strand of my hair.

  “I was worried about you.”

  I didn’t look at his face. I didn’t trust myself not to pass out again. “You shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”