Soulmates

by Holly Bourne

  “Hello, you.”

  “Hello. What’s up?”

  “This coursework is sooo boring. Why do I need to know all this stuff? How is this going to help me become the next Hunter S. Thompson?”

  “The next who?”

  “God, you’re hopeless.”

  “Hey!”

  “You’ve finished it already, haven’t you?”

  I prepared myself for the verbal assault. “Just my first draft,” I admitted.

  “I knew it. I just knew it.”

  “Lizzie, it’s not a crime to give coursework in on time.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “I can help you.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Okay. You’re forgiven. Can I read yours tomorrow after second period?”

  “Of course.”

  “I love you very much – you know that, right?”

  “Yeah yeah.” I paused. “So what’s this gossip then?”

  “Ooo yes. You didn’t come out after the gig, did you?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “It was fun. I thought I quite fancied that drummer Jack, but then he told me he reads tabloids. Yuck. So I can’t fancy him any more. Anyway Noah and Portia were there. Actually, it was lucky you weren’t there. That Portia girl is sooo the kind of person you hate and judge immediately. She kept droning on about her designer handbag collection and how Daddy is buying her a flat in London after she graduates. What a cow. She was such an idiot. I mean how rude is it going on and on about how rich you are?”

  I felt soothed by Lizzie’s account of her.

  “Anyway…you know how Noah and Portia were, like, totally all over each other at the gig?”

  My stomach felt queasy at the memory. I nodded.

  Lizzie must have taken my silent nod as an affirmative. “Well, it was so weird, because the moment we left Band Night, Noah completely lost interest. He dropped her hand and wouldn’t really talk to her. It would’ve been rude, and I would have been mad at him, if Portia wasn’t such an utter a-hole. But it got quite funny. She’s obviously not used to being ignored and she didn’t like it. She got PROPER clingy and kept trying to kiss him full on the mouth when he was in the middle of telling us a story. And he just batted her off like she was a moth or something. And, because that didn’t work, she then – in full public, I might add – started rubbing his knee and running her hand up between his legs. And, ohmygod, Poppy, we were all staring, but she seemed to get off on it.”

  I was picturing it in my head and frothing with jealousy.

  “But Noah, AGAIN, wasn’t having any of it. He smacked her hand like she was a naughty toddler and she turned luminous red. Can you get the colour, luminous red? Oh well. She was completely blushing. And then, to save face, she pretended the whole sordid thing hadn’t happened and launched into this insane monologue about how she was scouted by a modelling agency when she wasn’t even wearing any make-up.”

  I let Lizzie catch her breath. She was in such a state of excitement, she almost needed smelling salts.

  “So was that the gossip then?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear any more.

  I heard her gasp for air. “No. There. Is. More,” she panted.

  I sighed. “Go on then.”

  “Well, Ruth rang earlier this afternoon and told me. She’d gone to band practice with Will this morning. Apparently Portia turned up, dressed like she was going clubbing even though it was a Sunday morning. That’s what Ruth said, but I bet Ruth was wearing something equally inappropriate. Ruth said when Noah arrived he looked totally shocked to see Portia there and told her, in front of everyone, that he didn’t remember inviting her. Then – and this is where it gets really good – he took Portia off into the corner and spoke quietly with her. After that, apparently she went bloody mental and started screaming. She picked up one of Jack’s drums and kicked it across the room – she made a massive hole in it. She called Noah a bastard and ran off shrieking.”

  I couldn’t believe it.

  “…So then Ruth followed Portia. Not because she cared too much about her but she pretended to so she could get the gossip. Good move actually, I’ve trained her well. And Portia told Ruth that Noah dumped her and said he was really sorry but he was in LOVE with somebody else.”

  I let the words, and their meaning, sink in slowly.

  “Can you believe it?”

  “No.”

  “Isn’t that the best gossip ever? I wonder who this new girl is? She’s going to be hated by every girl in the whole of Middletown.”

  I gulped. I tried to keep my voice casual. “Good gossip, Lizzie. You’ve done very well.”

  “Aren’t you intrigued to find out who this mystery woman is?”

  “Not really. Why do you care so much anyway?” My words came out harsh but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to be caught up in some sort of pathetic episode of EastEnders.

  “It’s just interesting, that’s all.” She paused. “Do you think I can still fancy someone if they read tabloid newspapers?”

  Glad for the change of topic, I said, “Well, he reads books too though, doesn’t he?”

  “Oh yes. You’re right. Maybe he’s okay after all.”

  We talked for a few more minutes. After I hung up, I climbed onto my window sill so I could digest the new information.

  Well, that explained why he hadn’t called. There were scarier things now though. I didn’t want some rich bitch to hate me. And he had said he loved someone else. Did that mean he loved me? It was silly. We didn’t even know each other. I sat and watched the afternoon turn into evening, deep in thought.

  The next morning I was grumpy.

  No phone call. Not even one piddling text message. I swung myself out of bed, without doing my breathing exercises, and took my bad mood out on everything. I kicked my bedroom door shut, brushed my teeth ferociously and poured my orange juice as aggressively as one can pour orange juice.

  I dressed for anger. Despite it being, again, unseasonably warm outside, I pulled out my black Motörhead T-shirt and teamed it with my frayed miniskirt. I smudged as much eyeliner round my eyes as college rules allowed and backcombed my hair. Looking at my reflection, I was surprised to find I actually looked quite good. But donning black had not eradicated my anger and I was still seething with anti-Noah venom as I stormed down my driveway.

  “I hate men,” I told myself. “You’re so stupid, Poppy. Did you honestly think you were different?”

  But then my angry musings were replaced with, “But he told Portia he loves someone else. Loves. That could mean you…”

  It was like having an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. And I was so ensconced in arguing with my two imaginary selves, I didn’t notice Noah appear from behind a tree.

  “Hey, Poppy.”

  He looked almost illegally good. Black shirt – oh gosh, we were matching already. Dark jeans. Sunglasses pushed casually on top of that gorgeous head of his.

  “I knew you’d start stalking me if I told you where I lived.” It was supposed to be a joke but the anger I’d been harnessing all morning seeped through into my tone.

  Noah didn’t look surprised. “Sorry I didn’t call you yesterday.”

  I kept quiet.

  “I had…stuff…to sort out.”

  I shrugged. “S’alright. I didn’t notice anyway. I had stuff to do as well.”

  He took my hand and I felt myself melt, annoyingly.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t call,” he said again, trying to make me look him in the eyes. “I know you’ve decided I’m one of those guys who don’t call and wind girls up, but I’m not.”

  How did he know me so well already? I shrugged again. It’s actually a very effective communication device when your heart is pounding ten thousand times a second.

  Noah stuck his lip out and I knew I’d forgiven him. This time, at least.

  “Am I forgiven?” he asked, making his voice babyish to match his face.

  I winced. �
��You’re forgiven if you promise never to talk or look like that ever again.”

  Noah laughed and put his arm around me. We started walking.

  “So why are you here anyway?”

  “Is it a crime to want to walk my gorgeous girlfriend to college?”

  Wow. I tried to remain upright when, inside, some sort of happy atomic bomb was exploding.

  I’m gorgeous? I’m his girlfriend?

  “So I’m your girlfriend now?” I asked, proud at my ability to remain nonchalant.

  Undeterred, Noah kept walking. “Yep. Sorry, but you have no choice in the matter.”

  “Well, that hardly seems very fair.”

  “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He didn’t look concerned when he asked the question. Cocky bastard.

  “What about Portia? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

  He stiffened and I began to enjoy myself.

  “Do we have to go there?”

  “Why?” I said, all innocently. “What happened?”

  “It’s sorted. Don’t worry about it.”

  “How’s Jack’s drum?”

  “How the hell do you know about that?” Noah laughed.

  “My best friend is the Sherlock Holmes of Middletown.”

  “Lizzie,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Was it bad?” We’d reached the alleyways and the sound of traffic was more distant than before.

  Noah looked distressed. “It wasn’t great. I felt like a right arsehole.”

  He’d acted like one. I kept walking, still with his arm around me, and looked at the trees growing overhead. The gaps in the branches cast puddles of light onto us. “I want to reassure you, but what you did was a little bit arseholey.”

  “I know.”

  There was a slightly uncomfortable silence. I hated how things were either wonderful or tense between us. I felt we were on the verge of getting involved in something we couldn’t undo, and couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. But when I looked up at Noah, the light falling onto his chiselled face, my stomach flip-flopped and I decided it was good. For now, anyway.

  The awkwardness passed and I enjoyed having his body so close. The walk flew by and soon we were only five minutes from college and my English lesson.

  Noah carefully extracted his arm from round me. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a bit more of a sombre walk than I’d hoped.”

  I tried to smile.

  “It’s just, well, I feel guilty about this Portia thing. I can’t believe I used someone like that. I was just so desperate for you to realize your feelings.”

  I thought about what Lizzie had said. “Well, if it’s any help, it’s not like you urinated on Mother Teresa or something. From what I heard, she isn’t the nicest person.”

  Noah nodded but then shook his head. “It still wasn’t right.”

  “But she broke the drum. Doesn’t that make you even?”

  He laughed. “Yes, she did bloody break the drum. That was crazy.”

  I laughed too as I pictured it.

  “Are you free after college?”

  My heart sank. Dr. Ashley. I shook my head. “No. Not right after college anyway. I’ve got a thing.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  I didn’t look at him. “It’s hard to explain.”

  I dug out my mobile phone to check the time. I was going to be late. Again. Noah saw me pull a face.

  “You gotta go to class?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Well, what are you doing after this thing of yours?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  Noah picked a small piece of lint off my T-shirt and brushed it away. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place and, you know, hang out?”

  I remembered his reputation and gulped. What exactly did he mean by “hang out”? What was wanted? Expected?

  I nodded my head slowly, trying to calm my quickened breath.

  I needed advice. Oh no. I was going to have to tell Lizzie. But she would be so unbearable.

  “Is that a yes?” He was looking at me curiously.

  I nodded again.

  “Alright. Well, I’ll come round yours at six-ish and pick you up.” He took my hand and squeezed it. Then, before I knew what was happening, he’d turned and left.

  I wobbled my way to English, trembling at the thought of that evening. Part of me longed for it to be Saturday morning again. Then, I’d banished Noah from my mind and was getting on with living my uneventful, but ultimately unstressful life. Now, in just one weekend, I’d broken up a couple, acquired a boyfriend and begun panicking about whether I was expected to sleep with him already.

  I staggered past desks and slumped into my seat without even acknowledging Frank’s hello. I put my head in my arms and concentrated on keeping my breathing regular. But it was coming out in fast rapid pants.

  “Poppy, are you alright?” Frank asked.

  But I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t breathe.

  Not another one. Not here.

  Get a grip, I told myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I began reasoning to calm myself down: You don’t have to sleep with him. You only just got together. If he expects it, just say no. Kill him if he makes it a problem.

  It worked a little. I felt my breathing ease. I began to hear Ms. Gretching teaching at the front of the class. Her voice got louder and less tinny.

  You don’t need to sleep with him yet, I repeated in my head. And, slowly, I felt strong enough to raise my head and meet Frank’s worried eyes.

  “Poppy?”

  “Hi, Frank. What’s up?”

  “Are you okay? You were having a bit of a special moment just then.”

  I laughed in what I hoped was a realistic way. “Sorry about that. Didn’t sleep well last night and just needed to mentally prepare myself for the next hour of joyous English.”

  Frank didn’t look convinced but let it go. “You’re such a weirdo.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  I let Ms. Gretching’s boring blaring become background noise again and returned to the problem. I needed advice. Lizzie.

  She was easy enough to find at lunch, huddled over that bloody notepad.

  I plopped down next to her, mentally preparing myself for the oncoming squeals. “Where are Ruth and Amanda?”

  Lizzie looked up from her scribblings. “Ruth’s stressing about her Travel and Tourism coursework and has dragged Amanda to the library for moral support.”

  I looked round. The canteen wasn’t as busy as it usually was. Coursework fear must have kicked in and the library was now the social epicentre of campus.

  I grimaced. “Poor Amanda.”

  “Never mind poor Amanda. Poor me! I need your Psychology coursework NOW.”

  I sighed, dug in my bag and handed it over. Lizzie grabbed it enthusiastically, looking a bit like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. I sat back as I let her go through it.

  “I can’t believe you’ve finished already.”

  “It’s just a first draft, Lizzie. Why haven’t you done it, anyway?”

  She turned over a page. “I’ve been teaching myself shorthand in my spare time.”

  “Of course you have…”

  She started taking notes and I noticed her copying huge chunks of my work word for word. It was time to ask her advice – if only to stop her blatant plagiarizing.

  “Lizzie?” I asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  The Psychology coursework was forgotten. She leaped forward in her chair, her eyes gleaming.

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  “Hang on. First of all I need you to absolutely PROMISE you won’t tell anyone.”

  Her face fell and I could see her battling with herself.

  “Am I going to have to say the words ‘off the record’?”

  Lizzie laughed. “No. Okay. I promise. What is it?”

  I looked around the
half-empty canteen to check no one was listening. Of course they weren’t. Lizzie and I weren’t of much importance to anyone.

  “Well, I’m telling you this because I need your advice. Seriously. I’m proper freaking out.”

  Lizzie nodded solemnly. “I can do advice.”

  “Well, the thing is, I’m kinda seeing Noah Roberts.”

  I wasn’t expecting her to scream. The whole building turned to look as Lizzie let out a high-pitched whoop, before her eyes bulged and she stuffed her hand into her mouth.

  “Thank you for your discretion,” I said wryly.

  “Oh. My. God. Are you being serious?”

  I nodded.

  “Jesus Christ, this is good gossip.”

  I slapped her hand. “Oi! Off the record, remember?”

  “Ahh, man.”

  “Lizzie. You promised!”

  “Okay okay okay.” A thought had obviously occurred, as her face lit up. “You’re the girl Portia wants to kill!” She looked annoyingly pleased at this discovery. I shushed her the best I could and eventually, when I was just at the point of killing her using my bag and her head, she pulled herself together.

  “Okay. I’ll be good,” she said, her hair messed up from my attack. “So tell me everything. How did this all happen?”

  I explained everything. The first night at the gig, what he’d said to me at the Lock and Key, how I’d felt when I saw him with Portia. Then I filled her in on what had happened since we met at the top of the common. Lizzie was a rather entertaining listener. She was incapable of controlling her bodily responses and at all the juicer bits, like when Noah held his mouth close to mine, she sighed and ooooed like she was watching a firework display.

  When I’d finally finished, I laid out my predicament.

  “So I’m supposed to be going to his later. But what if he’s expecting me to sleep with him? Lizzie, I’m terrified.”

  She thought about it, her packet of Quavers paused in mid-air. “Hmm.”

  I was annoyed. “Hmm?” I asked. “I tell you my biggest secret in the world and all you can give me is ‘Hmm’?”

  She dropped the bag of Quavers. “Well, what were you expecting me to come up with? I’m not exactly Miss Experienced.”

  “But what do you think he’s thinking?”