by Holly Bourne
“You bagsy the table, I’ll get the caffeine,” Hannah ordered.
I squeezed onto the chair and claimed the table with my bag just before a mum with a toddler. I shot her an I’m sorry look and tried not to think about Reese as I stared out into the rain. Did I imagine him looking at me the whole time? Why did he just walk out? I felt a pull in my stomach, a weird anxiety I couldn’t describe. I yearned for it to be obvious he liked me, like it was the other night – even though I wasn’t sure I even liked him yet. Even though I was supposed to be madly in love with Alfie. I was still madly in love with Alfie. I was just being stupid, flattered by the attention.
“Oh my god, I needed this coffee.” Hannah clattered two steaming mugs in front of me. “I’m so glad you were up for this. Thank you.”
I picked up a spoon to stir in the foam of my latte. “It’s fine.”
I waited for her to tell me what was going on. That’s something you learn from being a quiet person – if you just sit there, stuff comes out. People are so desperate to fill the silence that you end up being told things you wouldn’t be normally. Hannah took a big slurp from her cup, checked her phone, and took another slurp. Then she put the cup down and said, “So after the talent show, Jack told me he liked me.”
I stayed silent, knowing she’d soon reveal if she thought this to be a good or bad thing.
Hannah analysed my face for information, and I must’ve given something away because she said, “You know? Oh my god! What did he tell you?”
I panicked, not wanting to betray Jack. Sensing it, she reached out and patted my hand. “Look, he’s already told me he likes me. He just came out and said it, so you’re not betraying his confidence.”
I picked up my drink. “Well then, you know all I know. I just didn’t think he was going to tell you, that’s all.” I examined her over the rim of my cup. “Do you like him?”
She let out a huge puff of air. “I don’t know!”
“Oh, okay then… I mean that’s okay if you’re unsure but—”
“I think I do,” she interrupted. “But, like…it’s Jack, you know? Jack!”
I nodded. “He is Jack. That is correct.”
She giggled and gave me a look of genuine warmth. “I don’t know what I feel. I’m confused and a bit scared. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it. Because, like, you didn’t go to school with us, so don’t have all the backstories we think are important but probably aren’t. You’re new and neutral, and if your songwriting is anything to go by, you’re wise.” I blushed and she saw. “God, you’re literally the hardest person to compliment in the UNIVERSE. I feel like I’m punishing you.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just help me. What do I do?”
I leaned back in my chair. “Well, do you really like him?”
She spluttered out another giant sigh. “Yes, no. I don’t know. We’ve been friends for forever.”
“So…?”
“Well, what if it ruins the friendship? What if I don’t fancy him enough because we’re too close as friends?”
All the memories of Alfie poured in like water from a broken hydrant. I remembered all those exact same agonies. The preciousness of the friendship, the worry it wouldn’t be worth the risk, the freaking out that kissing him would feel wrong. “You won’t know if you fancy him until you’ve kissed him,” I told her expertly. “That’s how you’ll be able to tell. You’ll either be thinking Oh god, stop, you’re like my brother or Please never remove your tongue from my throat, I don’t care if we die of starvation!”
She burst out laughing and threw her head forward, her auburn hair spilling all over the table, getting a strand in her drink. Then she giggled herself out and raised her head, looking at me seriously. “But what if I kiss him and it’s not good. Then what? The friendship will be all weird.”
I bit my lip. “If the kiss is weird for you, chances are it will be weird for him too. Then you can just laugh and say, ‘That was weird’, and you’ll get over it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How are you so knowledgeable about this?”
It was my turn to let out a sigh. “I’ve been there,” I admitted. “There was a guy. Back in Sheffield. He was my best friend and then we got together.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “And then…”
I gulped. “And then I moved down here and we decided it was best to leave things.”
She reached over and took my hand again, giving it a good squeeze. “Shit, I’m sorry, Amelie. I mean, I figured it was tough enough having to move away, I didn’t know you had to leave your boyfriend behind too.”
All my feelings for Alfie rushed in, jumbling my brain, making me want to cry. I squeezed her hand back. “We’ve got a plan,” I told her. Suddenly I wanted to talk, wanted to tell someone everything. About the pain I’d been carrying, between just me and him, and not being able to talk to him about it. “We’re both going to try and get into Manchester. They’ve got a good music course for me, and they’ve got a good chemistry course for him. So we just need to be apart for these two years, otherwise we’ll ruin it with the long distance. But, it’s not like we’re going to fall in love with anyone else. So I just need to hold tight…” I trailed off, wondering how the hell Reese slotted into all this, and the way his smile had made me feel that morning. “Well, I thought that was the plan,” I added. “I’ve not heard from him in ages. He’s probably moved on already. I think we may’ve been kidding ourselves.”
“I’m so sorry, Amelie,” Hannah said with true sympathy. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been.”
“Don’t, or I’ll cry again. And I’m still recovering from the humiliation of doing that in front of the entire college.”
“Don’t worry about that. Literally no one remembers that already, apart from you.” Hannah turned to look out at the pouring rain and her face was serious again when she spoke next. “Was it worth it? With Alfie, I mean? Like, if you hadn’t got together maybe it would’ve been easier for you to move here.”
I knew she was mainly asking to help her make her mind up about Jack, but the question still burrowed right into me. I didn’t reply for almost a whole minute, staring into the rising steam of my drink instead. Is any broken heart ever worth it?
“Of course it was worth it,” I eventually got out. Remembering the amazing moments with Alfie, the delight at realizing we had the same feelings, those tentative first kisses that felt so safe and right, the way I had a best friend who would always be on my side, who I also got to make out with. “But it hurts now. Anyway, you and Jack aren’t about to be separated by two hundred miles.”
Hannah nodded. “True. Though, we’ll both be going to uni in two years…”
I smiled. “So you’re thinking about the logistics already. You DO like him.”
The way she blushed confirmed it.
“Just kiss him,” I said. “See what happens from there.”
“Okay, I will.” She put her coffee down resolutely and I knew she’d follow through on it. I’d not known her long but I could tell Hannah was the kind of person who always did what she said she was going to do. I felt happy for her, and yet also sad for me. She and Jack were essentially my only new friends and now I’d be playing Queen Gooseberry of Gooseberryland. Especially as Liv had clicked off with her new photography gang and spent all her time in the darkroom developing pictures of her belly button.
Hannah swerved into a topic change. “So, what’s going on with you and Dickhead Extraordinaire, Reese Davies?” she asked, as I almost choked on my slurp of coffee.
“What?”
“Rumour has it you left with him on Friday night. Then he stared at you all through form time.”
“What?” I repeated, to buy myself time.
“So, the official story,” Hannah leaned over the table, her lip curling in disapproval she didn’t even try to hide, “is that the moment you were onstage, Reese told everyone you were amazing and he had to get to know you. Then s
omeone saw you both leave college together, with him carrying your guitar. Please tell me nothing happened! He’s not a nice person, Amelie.”
I shook my head and tried to digest the huge hunk of news that had just dropped into my stomach. Did he really say that? It made my insides go all loopy. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s just so up himself! Like, he thinks his band are going to be The Next Big Thing. And he’s had loads of girlfriends before, never seems to treat them well. He always refers to them as ‘psychos’ afterwards.”
“Really?”
“Seriously. Be careful. I mean, I know he’s good looking and everything, but come on, that ridiculous hat tells you everything you need to know.”
“I quite like his hat.”
“Oh god…come on. Please, Amelie. The reason I wanted to hang with you was because I thought you had some sense.”
“I only said I like his hat! Anyway, nothing happened. He only walked me home. I’ve got Alfie to think about…”
“Good girl. Now, how do I go about kissing Jack?”
We laughed until our drinks were drunk and lessons beckoned. The rain was even heavier on the walk back into college and we squealed as water soaked through our tights and the hole in my left cowboy boot. I pushed through the doors to the music block, shaking out my umbrella and wringing out my dress. There’s something giddy-making about walking through heavy rain, and I felt utterly joyful as I sloshed my way to my music lesson, leaving a trail of puddles behind me.
Reese, you were waiting outside my music lesson, you will recall.
He tipped his hat again, leaning against the wall, one knee bent, looking so damn cool.
“You again.” I smiled, the giddiness giving me confidence.
“Are you going to go out with me then?” he asked, ignoring the students squeezing past him to get through the door.
“I have to go to my music lesson,” I laughed, feeling even giddier now that I’d somehow managed to magically become the sort of girl who has boys like Reese wait for them outside lessons. Hannah’s warning hummed quietly in the back of my head though, killing the buzz a little.
“I told you, no pressure. I just want to get to know you.”
“I said I’ll think about it.” I went to push open the door.
“Just a coffee?”
My smile grew fatter. “I said I’ll think about it.”
I couldn’t concentrate all through music. I drummed my pen against the table and thought about Reese and Alfie, and Jack and Hannah, and how life can change very quickly indeed. I hardly concentrated on Mrs Clarke’s lesson about composition but instead ran over Hannah’s words, wondering if I should trust her judgement. I had no reason not to. But I also had no reason to distrust Reese. And the problem was, I didn’t feel this weird animal magnetism to Hannah, whereas just being in the same room as Reese made me feel like I was wearing chainmail and he was a giant sexy magnet.
“Amelie? A quick one?” Mrs Clarke asked me when the bell rang.
I squeezed the still slightly damp sleeves of my cardigan as I made my way over to her desk. “Yes?”
“Congratulations again, for Friday night.”
My face did its usual response of turning a mixture of pink, red and blue – which I guess is just purple.
“You’re really going to have to get better at taking compliments” – she smiled – “because, I’ve had quite a few requests come through over the weekend.”
My stomach flipped. “Requests for what?”
Her smile grew wider, her peach lipstick stretching across her pale face. “Well, two students have asked if you’re interested in having a writing partner. And we also had a talent scout in the audience. She’s interested in setting you up with some local gigs. Getting your name out there?”
My hands curled into themselves and hid up my damp sleeves. “Really?” I stuttered. “Wow.” My body did the usual rip-in-two it does whenever my music goes well. Half of me wanted to leap in the air and praise the good lord and dance a merry jig. But the other half just heard DOOOOOOOOOOOM in a booming voice because I’d have to perform more and face my stage fright again and it’d be so much easier to just stay at home for ever, curled up in a blanket.
“I can send you the details, I just wanted to check it was okay first to pass on your email. Exciting, huh? I knew from our first lesson how talented you were.”
The bell rang again, and a jostle at the door signalled her next batch of students had arrived. I only had a minute to get across campus to English.
“Anyway, sorry for making you late. If you want any extra help preparing, or deciding what to do, that’s what I’m here for.”
I stuttered out a thank you and wobbled my way out of the classroom.
Gigs.
Writing partners.
A smile tickled the corners of my mouth. My love for singing always won over everything else eventually.
Well, back then it did.
I didn’t see Reese for the rest of the day. I felt twitchy and too aware of myself travelling between lessons, wondering if he’d be waiting outside my class again, and then anxiety was replaced by odd disappointment when he wasn’t. I’d start to worry I’d blown it by not giving him an answer right away. I mean, if Hannah’s stories were anything to go by, he wasn’t short of options. I wouldn’t be able to keep him hanging too long. Then I’d remind myself of Alfie and our promise, and wonder what the hell had got into me.
It went like this:
Anxiety…
Excitement…
Disappointment…
Relief…
Worry…
Guilt…
Anxiety…
…all the damned day long. I zoned out during lunch, as Hannah stared at Jack but pretended she wasn’t, and Jack stared back and pretended he wasn’t.
The day ended and I hadn’t seen Reese again. I tried telling myself it was a relief, yet my heart still got in a huge strop about it.
This is good, I kept telling myself. You don’t need this. What about Alfie? You don’t want to date someone who wears a stupid hat anyway.
I imagined what Alfie would make of him. God, he’d hate the hat. Alfie’s only outfit was: jeans, T-shirt and trainers. He considered wearing shorts in summer the most stressful thing ever.
I hugged Hannah goodbye at the college gate, whispered “set up a kissable opportunity” in her ear, and left her blushing. I hoicked my bag over my shoulder, nodded to all the people who smiled and wished me congratulations, and walked back towards the flat.
There he was. At the entrance to the alleyway. Hat tipped, smile beaming, leaning casually on the railing. I juddered to a halt, like a cartoon character who just about saves themselves from falling off a cliff.
“Well, fancy seeing you here,” he said, stealing my line.
I giggled, like the stupid idiot that I am.
“Are you following me?” I asked, dumbly.
“Only in a romantic way, not a creepy way.”
“Don’t I get to be the one who decides that?”
“Sorry, I’ll go.” He went to walk off. Properly, not even as a joke. So, of course, I called “Wait”, just like I’m sure he knew I would.
“So you do want me to walk you home?”
I giggled again and uselessly tried to maintain the power. “I guess you can walk me home.” I sighed like the idea was awful.
“Here, I’ll take your bag.” He reached out for my heavy tote and I honestly found it romantic rather than patronizing and archaic, because we’ve established already that I’m a giant idiot.
“Are you really homesick?” he asked, out of the blue, as we fell into step, skidding on slippy leaves from the earlier rain.
“Why do you ask that?”
“It’s just, whenever I look at you, which is a lot…in a romantic way, not a creepy way, of course…you always look like you’re wishing yourself away.”
I touched my face self-consciously, surprised I was giving mysel
f away so obviously.
Or maybe he just really gets you, I thought. Maybe you have a connection.
“I am homesick. Everything is so different here. It’s like being in a different country.”
“How is it different?”
I found myself telling him all of it. All the way home, right up to the wall outside my flat, where we sat down, our bums getting increasingly damp as the wetness from the brick seeped through. I told him how it wasn’t just the accent that was different here, but so many other things. How much less space there was down south. How there were queues for everything – in the coffee shop and at traffic junctions. And though queuing seems very polite, everyone down south seemed to use manners as a defensive shield, to cover up their chronic unfriendliness. “In Sheffield, you chat to anyone,” I told him, swinging my legs. “If you ring to book a taxi, as you wait for your fish and chips, you chat to the lady down the phone, or the person serving you, or whoever else is in the queue. It’s all duck and pet, and it’s lovely, really it is. You feel like everyone is a friend. But down here, nobody talks to anyone…and everyone bumps into each other.” I sighed. “Up north, if someone walks towards you on the pavement, you both move to make way. But down here it’s like pavement Hunger Games! I’ve got actual bruises on my arms from being knocked into so much.”
He listened and he agreed. He said he’d noticed all those things too but no one had ever put it like that before.
“You’re so good with words,” Reese told me. “I thought it was just your songs, but hearing you talk… You just say things in such a wise way. It’s like this is your eighth life or something.”
I swelled under the compliment and he looked at me with such wonder that I found myself believing him. Maybe I do have a way with words. Maybe I am wise for my years… There’s nothing more intoxicating than seeing your best self through the lens of someone’s adoring eyes. It’s potent and heady, and how amazing it felt to bathe in the glow Reese projected onto me. I could practically tan in it.
