by Holly Bourne
He kissed my head. “You look lovely, as always. But where I’m taking you isn’t a jeans place.”
“Now I’m really intrigued.”
“You’re just going to have to be patient.”
We walked back to mine, holding hands the whole way. It made me think about what had happened with Frank earlier. It had been him who’d taken my hand… My belief that he wasn’t into me was waning a little. I compartmentalized the uncomfortable thought for the time being though, and focused on how Noah’s hand felt in mine. The wind was still bitingly cold and I thought I might have to apply an emergency layer of red-reducing foundation on the sly. Noah told me about the photo shoot they were doing for the newspaper.
“It sounds a bit cringe to be honest. They want to photograph us under the railway bridge. I’m concerned they’re going to want lots of ‘edgy’ shots of us smouldering against exposed brickwork.”
“Noah. Your band is called Growing Pains. You’re practically begging to be shot in black-and-white against exposed brickwork.”
“Always with the band-name criticism.”
“It’s a stupid name.”
“Well, I bet everyone thought ‘The Beatles’ sounded pretty dumb when they first started.”
“Did you just compare your band to The Beatles?”
He held up his hands. “God, no. Calm down. Don’t worry.”
We arrived at my house and I scrabbled around for a door key. As I let myself in, I called out but there was no answer. We were alone.
“Come on,” I said, leading him upstairs. “My room’s up here.”
“I get to see your room?”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“It will just be interesting to see where you sleep, that’s all.”
“That sounds creepy. What is it with you and sleep?”
I opened my door, trying to remember what state I’d left my room in that morning. It actually wasn’t that messy. I quickly smoothed out the duvet and kicked a stray pair of knickers under the bed before Noah sat on it and looked around him.
“So this is where Poppy lives?” He took in my framed photos, my old teddy bear (damn it, I forgot to hide that!), and my pretentious poster of James Dean.
“It’s not usually this messy,” I lied.
Noah reached out for my hand and pulled me down so I was sitting next to him. He brushed his lips against mine.
“It’s perfect. I love it. It screams you.”
He kissed me again, harder this time, and my body went haywire. I hungrily licked his lips and wrapped my arms around his back. He groaned and before I knew it I was kissing him furiously, sitting on top of him. It was the best kind of wonderful.
We came up for air and Noah grinned up at me.
“We’re not doing very well,” he said, stroking my face. “I seem incapable of behaving myself around you.”
I caught a glimpse of myself in my dressing table mirror. Just five minutes of kissing had somehow moulded my hair into an atrocity. I tried to manipulate it back into normality with my fingers.
“Yes, well, I seem equally incapable of resisting nympho-like urges. Anyway, let’s distract ourselves. Why are we here again?”
“Oh yes, I almost forgot.”
Noah jumped up and began rummaging through his huge bag. Curious, I watched as he pulled out another, smaller pricey-looking bag. He held it up triumphantly.
“What’s that?”
“It’s for you.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
He placed the bag on my bed. It was from a posh shop in town – an expensive posh shop.
“You didn’t have to buy me anything,” I said, turning the bag over in my hands.
“Don’t be silly. You’re my girlfriend. Plus this is a practical gift.”
I reached inside. Something felt soft and I pulled it out slowly. It was red, made with silky material. I pinched it with my fingers and let the fabric unravel to reveal the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen.
“It’s a dress.”
I stood there, stunned. It was the colour red that I knew suited me but was never brave enough to actually wear. It had a high-ish neckline and long sleeves. It skimmed down from the waist, ending high above the knee.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, still staring.
Noah held the fabric up against my body.
“It looks like it’s a perfect fit,” he said, grinning. “I should definitely get some sort of prize for that.”
I couldn’t really speak. All I could do was stare at the dress.
“You like it?”
I nodded, then shook my head.
“It’s gorgeous, Noah. But, seriously, I can’t accept it. I know that shop, and you’re too generous.”
He shrugged, not bothered. “I’ve got millionaire parents with severe guilt issues, remember? Don’t worry about the money, just try it on.”
“But I have nowhere to wear it to.”
“Well, that’s where this evening’s entertainment comes in.” He had an even broader smile on his face now. He rummaged again in his bag, located a white envelope and handed it to me.
I was nervous as I slit it open and pulled out two stiff tickets.
I gasped.
“Tickets to the ballet?” I could hardly believe it.
“Yep. Good tickets as well. My dad has a box. He uses it to schmooze potential clients and it’s not being used tonight. I thought you could wear your new dress.”
I screeched and hugged him. “Do you have any idea how much I love the ballet?”
He hugged me back. “Nope. It was a lucky guess. But I know how much girls love getting dressed up for things.”
“I love love love LOVE the ballet.” I got up and did a little pirouette around my room. “I used to dance as a kid, you know? I was actually pretty good. Mum would take me to the ballet each Christmas. I looked forward to it all year.”
Noah stood up and I theatrically jumped into his arms. He caught me and spun me around.
“So what happened, Margot Fonteyn?” he asked. “Why don’t you still go?”
I sighed. “You know, the usual stuff. I became a teenager and decided I wanted to go shopping on Saturdays instead of to ballet classes. I regret it, of course.”
“Well, I’m glad I picked the right thing to do.”
“You so did.”
“Are you going to try the dress on?”
“Only if you promise not to look.”
He held his hands over his eyes. “No peeking. I promise.”
I quickly peeled off all my layers and pulled the dress on. I let the fabric swish down and I examined my reflection in the mirror.
Wow. It was a good dress. I looked at least five years older and the shade of red changed my complexion completely. It made my skin look milky and the brown in my hair looked deep and shiny.
“Are you done yet?” Noah asked, eyes still covered. “The suspense is killing me.”
“I’m done.” I swept my hair to one side.
Noah opened his fingers and peered through. He paused. Then he took his hands away and just stared. I felt myself go as red as the dress.
“What is it? Does it look awful?” I tugged nervously at the fabric.
He still didn’t speak.
“What? You’re making me feel anxious now.”
He grabbed my face and pulled me into a deep kiss. When he pulled away I was left even more flustered.
“What was that for?”
Noah started kissing my shoulders and my arms. “You. Look. So. Unbelievably. Gorgeous,” he said between kisses. “That. I. Can’t. Stop. Kissing. You.”
I giggled. “You like it?”
“I more than like it.” He kissed me full on the mouth again. “Let’s not go to the ballet. Can’t we just stay here with you wearing that dress?”
“No! I’m all excited now.”
“But look at you.”
; “When do we need to leave?”
Noah looked at his watch.
“In about an hour.”
“Well, I need to do my hair and make-up. I can’t go wearing a dress like this but with my face looking like crap.”
“Trust me. You couldn’t look less like crap if you tried.”
“I guess that’s good to know.”
Noah gave me one final kiss.
“I need to leave you alone. I’m like a sex pest. You get ready and I’ll go to the bathroom and get changed.”
“Don’t tell me you’re wearing a pretty dress too?”
He nodded. “Yup. And heels. And this DIVINE handbag I found in Coast.”
“How do you know about Coast?”
“Girls talk about it a lot.”
“Fair enough.”
Noah scooted out of my bedroom with yet another mysterious bag. I quickly rang my mum to fill her in. She got a bit too excited and delayed my getting-ready process by at least ten minutes. Then I sat myself at my dressing table and got to work beautifying myself, smiling non-stop throughout. I decided to play up to the red of the dress, so kept my eye make-up minimal and worked on creating what I hoped would be a set of red luscious lips, which Cosmo had told me were easy to do in five steps. With juicy lips accomplished, I turned my attention to my hair and decided I just about had enough time to curl it. I switched on my tongs and painstakingly created soft ringlets. I was just spritzing on some of the posh perfume I got for my birthday when Noah re-emerged.
It was my turn to be shocked.
He looked…fantastic.
He’d changed into an impeccably cut black suit with a crisp white shirt and skinny black tie. He’d changed his hair. It wasn’t all floppy and messy like usual but moulded and sculpted to show off his jawline perfectly. All his stubble had gone, leaving his face clean and his black eyes startling. As expected, my belly flip-flopped like I was standing on top of a massive cliff and my heart’s tempo stepped up a notch.
I was just about to tell him how amazing he looked but he beat me to it.
“Poppy Lawson. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl in the whole of Middletown.”
It took a lot of willpower not to act entirely on lust. “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”
“If I didn’t know better I would say that was a compliment.”
He kissed me, which caused my body to spasm in delight. He then stooped so his head was resting on my shoulder and he looked at our reflection in the mirror.
“We’re not a bad-looking couple, you know?”
I looked at the mirror image in front of me. Noah was right. We did look pretty good together. I almost didn’t recognize myself. I was this adult-looking, rather pretty girl, who seemed to radiate happiness. I hadn’t realized before how Noah made me smile compulsively; how being with him made me feel so relaxed, so…okay, it sounded daft, but so completed.
Noah looked at his watch again. “Balls. We’re going to miss the train if we don’t leave now.”
And we left the house in a flurry of me tossing things randomly into bags, screaming that I couldn’t find my shoes, and having to ring my mobile phone using Noah’s because it had disappeared.
A very, very cold train and Tube journey to London later, we emerged onto the streets of the West End. It was freezing. People were bustling past, trying to get out of the cold as quickly as possible.
“The theatre is just around this corner,” Noah said, helping me through the throngs of people.
I wasn’t accustomed to London walking, so kept being elbowed and apologizing to everybody. When we reached the theatre, there were lots of people queuing to get in. Everyone around us was also dressed for the occasion. All the men were wearing suits and I caught glimpses of beautiful fabric peeking out from the women’s heavy winter coats.
Noah walked straight past the queue to the front.
“Hang on,” I whispered. “Don’t we need to line up with everyone else?”
He grinned. “Nope.”
I followed Noah with my arms crossed in embarrassment. I’d never been one for queue-jumping and didn’t understand why Noah was so confident that he could blag his way out of waiting. But when we reached the ticket office, Noah quietly gave the attendant his name, and the employee’s face perked up in recognition.
“Of course, Mr. Roberts, your box is ready.”
The attendant gave a subtle signal and another eager employee dashed over. We were ushered through the crowd and bubbling glasses of champagne appeared in our hands.
“Are you the son of the prime minister or something?” I whispered to Noah as we followed the man up a deep red staircase. I took a small sip of champagne, delighted that they thought I was eighteen. The bubbles tickled my nose.
“We’re just box holders,” Noah said, not too bothered or affected by our VIP treatment. “They have to treat box holders like this. It’s part of what you pay for.”
We continued up the stairs, another flight, then another flight. Other ballet-goers disappeared through giant wooden doors and the crowd began to thin out.
“Not much further, sir,” our helpful attendant said. He was slightly podgy and there was sweat on his forehead from the exertion of climbing so many stairs. We continued upwards until we were close to the beautifully decorated gilt ceiling, adorned with golden cherubs and cloudy skies. Our attendant showed us to a small door covered with red velvet curtains.
“Sir, madam, your box.” He gestured with his hand and gave a small bow, which I found a bit over the top.
Then Noah surprised me by taking out a twenty-pound note and discreetly passing it to him. It was an odd thing to watch my teenage boyfriend do – it seemed far too adult. I realized how far removed from my usual Middletown life this evening was.
Noah touched the small of my back and guided me past the red curtains. I was just about to wind him up by asking him if his dad was in the Mafia, when I noticed my surroundings. We’d emerged into a small but luxurious private box on the right-hand side of the theatre. It hovered high above the gathering audience like a reigning monarch. The view was just breathtaking. A sea of elegance stretched out beneath us. Men in perfectly-fitting designer suits led women sparkling with diamonds to their red velvet seats. The twinkling of jewels and sequins on women’s dresses played in the light, casting rainbows across the ornate walls. The stage was empty, expectant, awaiting the arrival of finely toned dancers in bobbing tutus.
I took a deep breath and sighed, leaning over the railing to take it all in. Noah pressed his body gently into my back, his arms sneaking around my waist.
“What do you think?” He pulled a strand of my hair back so I could feel the tickle of his hot breath in my ear.
I was still looking out at the spectacle below me.
“It’s amazing,” I admitted. “We’re so high up. I can’t believe this is real, that I’m in a real ballet box. I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”
Noah frowned. “Isn’t that film about prostitutes?”
“Yeah. But good prostitutes. There’s this bit where Richard Gere buys her a dress – it’s red too actually, like this one – and he takes her to the opera. It’s so so soooo romantic.”
“Hmm. I’m not too keen that you’ve just compared me to Richard Gere and compared yourself to a prostitute.”
I leaned over as far as I dared.
“Wow. There’s a box directly below us. Shall we write them a message and dangle it on a bit of string for them to read?” The moment it came out of my mouth I realized I was genuinely excited by the idea.
Noah just laughed and kissed my neck. “You do realize you’re the most beautiful person in here, don’t you?” he said.
His kiss made me shiver and my body lost any rational ability to behave itself. I pushed myself back onto his lips.
“That’s very sweet, but it’s not true.”
He kissed my neck again, sending wonderful chills up my spine.
“Not only
are you beautiful, you’re not all vain about it. I love that.”
Another kiss.
I was about to answer with something funny and/or clever when Noah pulled me round to kiss me full on the lips, but we were interrupted by the strings of the orchestra starting up. I quickly jumped away from him.
“I forgot we were in public,” I said, my heart still thudding.
“Yeah. Suddenly the ballet isn’t sounding so great. Can’t we just go back to mine?”
I pulled a face. “No chance. Look, I think it’s starting soon.”
I settled into my large plush seat. There were little binoculars on a stand in front of me and I picked them up and started spying on the orchestra.
“Wow,” I said. “That violinist has got an impressive beard.” I handed the binoculars over to Noah. “See.”
He gave me an odd look but took them and looked in the direction of the pit.
“You’re right. That is an impressive beard.”
Then he turned that weird look back on me.
“What?”
“I just don’t think it’s possible for anyone in the world to love anyone as much as I love you right now.”
His eyes were intense, burning almost. I obviously needed to point out intriguing facial hair more often.
“I love you too.” I took his hand. “Thank you for bringing me here. I think it’s possibly the most romantic thing that will ever happen to me.”
He smiled. “And the ballet hasn’t even started yet.” He stretched his arms up and his shirt rose up a little, giving me the tiniest glimpse of his stomach.
I promptly forgot all about the ballet again.
“Do you want a drink?”
“Huh?” I said, still transfixed by the small amount of skin on show.
“A drink?” He gestured to my empty champagne glass. “Do you want another one?”
I shook my head to clear my lust-induced haze. “Er, yeah, sure. That would be great.”
Noah leaned over a small table I hadn’t noticed and picked up a telephone that I also hadn’t noticed.
“We have a phone?”
He held up a finger to shush me and started talking to whoever was on the other line. He hadn’t dialled so I assumed the phone went straight through.
