by Bloom, Anna
“How do we have time? It’s nearly Easter, term finishes in about eight weeks, and we are nowhere near finding a place on which to put an offer!”
“Well, perhaps if we were to broaden our criteria?”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me see what properties are in the approximate price range, including but not limited to flats.”
“Okay, do it. I want to be ready to move in eight weeks.”
“Thank you, Miss McCannon.”
Too right, Mister. You remember who the boss is here.
Good grief, I am on fire today. I have come up with a good essay idea, now I have put a rocket up the bottom of Mr. Sleaze.
Top marks all around. I think I can have some chocolate to celebrate. And maybe a little glass of wine.
8th March
7.30 a.m.
Moderation is not my strongest suit.
The celebration of the new, assertive me called for the following ingredients:
— 3 bars of Cadbury Whole Nut (the small ones, not the family-sized bars)
— 2 bottles of red
And now I have a red wine headache again.
“What we celebrating?” Meredith asks as she lands on my bed with a thump that spills my wine, and pulls a sharp look from me. She knows me well enough to understand that I do not approve of wasting alcoholic grape juice.
“Me,” I reply, sparking a big grin on her face.
“I am all for that,” she responds, while giving me a nudge and reaching under the bed to get a glass from my secret stash of glassware and pouring herself some wine.
Then Beth joins us—clutching her own bottle, thankfully—still looking incredibly pretty without all the black makeup. We have a lovely girly hour trying to decide the best way to find out which girls on campus are lesbian and how we can determine if they are single or not.
Meredith and I have to concede to Beth, that her dating dilemma is a quagmire of landmines waiting to explode.
We then discuss (in whispered tones because we can hear Ben playing guitar next door) in great detail the Lilah and Ben dinner at the local curry house. The general consensus seems to be that although there was no kissing or physical interaction of ‘that’ kind, the evening was still borderline date material.
“So what did you talk about?” asks Beth.
“Uh, we talked about the fact that we used to have sex a lot.”
“Really, what happened then?”
“We both sat there bright red, and I wanted to have sex with him, although that’s quite normal!”
“How did he react when Big Baz gave you the job?” Meredith inquires.
I have to think about this for the minute. “He seemed pleased, like he was glad that he knew where I was going to be.”
Both the girls sit there with their heads cocked to the side, looking at me as they mull this piece of information over.
“Well, I think you should just go in there right now and offer him a blowjob. He won’t want to be bloody best friends then, will he?” Beth says a little too loudly.
I spurt my wine everywhere, which is not a good thing as the wine is red and my bedding is white. What is far worse is that Ben’s guitar has stopped strumming, which I am inclined to believe indicates he has been listening from his bed all along, which is only separated from mine by a wall made of cardboard.
Beth and Meredith think this is completely hilarious and spend a good fifteen minutes laughing hysterically as I try and mop the wine off my bed.
3.00 p.m.
I think this all over on my afternoon jog. I don’t bother with the library on a Friday afternoon. I would much rather burn off my excesses and create space for the ones to come over the weekend.
We are going out tonight—all of us together—just over to Digby bar. I shall have to do the whole friends thing whilst out socialising with other people. I am under no illusion that this will be easy. As I finish my jog, I decide that instead of joining them, I should beat them. Yes, yes, I know it is backwards, but if he is going to find this entire friend’s thing easy, maybe I should make an effort to try and make it a little more difficult. After all, I’m not finding it easy.
I need to go shopping.
5.00 p.m.
I am complete with an outfit that I may never wear again: a black skirt made out of some type of netting which swings about, a pair of killer stilettos that I can barely walk in, a see-through gauzy top, underwear to go underneath and a black cropped blazer. For the first time in my life I have just purchased an entire outfit in a size ten. It looks like the jogging is paying off. The strange thing is that I have not even noticed. I shall have to adjust my personality tags. Frumpy, not dumpy, and old.
This is so far from what I usually wear it is surprising that my wardrobe hasn’t collapsed in shock. I know my bank balance nearly did.
Right. Time to get ready. I hope I don’t look like mutton dressed as lamb.
9th March
5.30 a.m.
“Is this real?”
I can't tell if he is awake, but I ask the question out loud anyway.
“I think so,” he replies, curling himself around me.
“I am going to go back to sleep just in case.”
“Me, too.”
9.30 a.m.
It’s real. It is most definitely real! I am here in Ben’s bed and he is asleep next to me, with, I have to note, a very satisfied smile on his face.
Ha! That’s me! I put that smile on his face.
Last night I set out to make ‘friends’ a little more challenging for Ben. This morning we are so far on from being "Best Friends" it is crazy to think just how much circumstances can change in a few short hours.
Here we are one foot hooked around the other’s, anchoring ourselves to one another, and I have a feeling deep inside me that nothing can ruin this. Not his leaving for his little Easter break in the States, and not the eventual end that we are going to have when I let him go.
This is going to be perfect right now.
Friday Night Out
Last night.
By the time there was a knock on my door, I was ready and completely geared up. I enhanced my normal minimal makeup routine with smoky eyes and lashings of eyeliner. The crazy fuzz cut was managing to look quite funky. I could not guarantee it would hold.
I am rewarded for my efforts by Meredith dropping her drink all over the floor and Beth announcing very loudly that she may fancy me after all. I cringe at her loud voice, shushing her with my hand, which they both think is hilarious.
“Don’t worry, Lil, he has already walked over with Jayne. You would have heard them leave had you not been so busy singing.”
“Bite me.”
“You look lovely, Lilah,” Meredith says, seeming very sincere, and I give her a big hug.
I should own up to the fact that I have had a few sneaky drinkies in my room whilst getting ready.
We head out of the door and run across to Digby. Well, I totter, but at a reasonable pace despite the stilettos.
As we push through the doors, I have the immense satisfaction of seeing Ben, who is sitting in the corner, choke on his beer. I give a little half-interested wave of my hand, acknowledging that I have seen him, and saunter over to the bar.
Trev gives a low whistle when he sees me, and proceeds to give me a drink on the house.
Blimey! Who would have thought that getting dressed up would have had this much effect? I should have done it ages ago. There is a DJ playing, but as yet there is no one on the dance floor, so we stand at the bar and make girly chitchat.
Jayne comes over from her table and high fives me. “Well done. Lilah! The whole football team wants to give you a shot.”
I blush furious
ly and swat her away. Shame for them, there is only one member of the team from which I would be open to offers.
After a while, Tristan arrives. He actually spends so much time on campus I don’t know why he does not enrol and just study here as well. He gives me a wink as he leans in to say hi.
“Going all out, Lil?”
“Better believe it,” I respond with a wink of my own.
I feel completely amazing. For the first time in my entire life, my confidence is at an all-time high. I grab a drink and start mingling around, greeting people I recognise. It takes them all a moment to register who I am, and then I get a lot of hugs. It's great, but then again it's a bit worrying. Do I walk around looking like scruffy moose the rest of the time? The only person who doesn’t come and speak to me is Ben. I maturely decide to ignore this. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the blues flash as he watches me talk to a couple of the guys from History class. Ha! Stick that, sucker.
Five vodkas later and the Lilah dancing machine is out in full force. There are not that many people on the dance floor but I don’t care. I dance away quite merrily until I realise that the room is spinning rather a lot. I try to slow my pace but the room is still spinning which makes me realise that it must be my head and not the crazy dance I am performing.
“I am going out for a smoke,” I tell Meredith, who is doing something I would rather not witness with Tristan on the dance floor.
Outside, I lean against my tree (yes, it is mine) and merrily smoke away. As I smoke I start to sober up a little bit. What on earth am I doing? My whole reasoning for the day begins to make no sense to me at all.
I don’t want to get back together with Ben because I want him to go to the States and have his great career.
It was me who suggested being friends.
It is me who has enjoyed the last week of being friends and the casual flirting that has been simmering under the surface.
It is me who knows that eventually I am just going to have to let go of him being a part of my life.
So why the fuck am I dressed up to the nines attempting to get his attention?
By the time I am on my second cigarette, leaning against the tree with my eyes shut, I am feeling like a complete idiot and just want to go back home and get changed into my comfy jeans and a hoodie.
I feel a hand slide down my arm. I don’t have to open my eyes to know who it is. I would know that touch anywhere.
“What are you doing out here, Lilah? It is freezing.”
I don’t bother opening my eyes, but wave my cigarette in the general direction of his voice, hoping I don’t set his hair alight.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and very close to my ear.
I open my eyes and meet his. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he whispers back. “You look amazing. I mean, you always do, but there is something different about you tonight.”
He stops to think of the words.
Yep. I am a deranged lunatic attempting to make you fancy me even though I know I should not want you to.
“You look confident,” he finally says through lips that are distractingly close to my neck.
I want him so badly that my entire body could set alight, burning like dry tinder in a fire of need for this man with his dark hair, flashing eyes, and his long fingers made to entwine with mine. Even though we are not touching, I can feel every contour of his body against mine. The space between us zings with electricity.
I think about his words for a few seconds. He’s right. I am confident. I am buzzing with it.
“I wish I could be this confident every day,” I admit. “Then, I think, I could be with you.”
The words are out before I can stop them. I hear him take a sharp intake of breath as he absorbs what I am saying. I need to correct this, fast.
“It’s not real though, Ben. It’s just an illusion, someone that I could be if I was brave enough.”
My words are a whisper, my lips getting closer and closer to his jaw.
“Be brave with me, Lilah.”
As he says my name in the way only he does—half whisper, half wish—I can’t stop the single tear that betrays me by falling down my cheek. He stops its tracks with his lips, and my willpower crumbles. I give a shudder as I lean against him, and his arms slide around me pulling me in tight.
“Ben, you know this is not the real me. I’m obsessive and negative and worry about everything,” I explain as I try to ignore his lips that are still against my cheek. “You deserve so much more than that.”
He leans down so he can look right at me, the pressure of his body pushes me back against the tree, long, hard lines moulding against mine.
“I only see the best in you,” he says, “and you need to see that, too.”
I just stare at him. His face is so close I can see his freckles illuminated in the moonlight.
We shouldn’t do it again. I know that. What is it, two or three times we have attempted a relationship now? Every time, for one reason or another, we end up pushing each other away saying words that hurt. I know this, but still I say, “I can’t stay away from you.”
He gives a low groan as he crushes us together, his lips on mine. The moment he touches me, and I feel the familiar sensation of his mouth against mine, I know it is right. I can’t keep fighting this chemistry between us. It is exhausting and distracting me from all other aspects of my life. How many times can I jog around Richmond Park obsessing about him? How many more times can I slur into my vodka or wine at the end of the night telling everyone and anyone apart from him how much I love him? It’s got to stop and it will, in June, when he goes away. But until then, I am just going to stop pretending for the sake of my own sanity and that of everyone else around me.
I kiss him, and he kisses me, deep and hard like it is never going to end. Then I start to cry.
“I don’t want to be friends,” I blub as I wipe at snot bubbles.
He looks at me sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to be just friends, not for now.” I run my hands up through his silky hair and feel it slide through my fingers.
He closes his eyes and leans his head back into my palm. Then he leans forward and catches my lips with his again. “You have no idea how good this feels,” he whispers after a few moments.
“I think I do.” My voice is so low I can barely recognise it. There is a fire unfurling inside me, burning along my stomach and making my limbs feel heavy and numb.
“So what does this mean?” he asks.
I know this is where I went wrong nearly a month ago on Valentine’s Day when I could not say the things he wanted me to say. I still can’t say them but I can at least try to be a little more eloquent.
“We are not fuck buddies.”
Okay, not the most eloquent start.
He has the good grace to look a little sheepish.
I put a finger against his lips. “You are so much more to me than that. But, no matter what I feel for you or where we are in a few months, I still want you to go and do your part with the band.”
He pulls my hand away from his mouth. “Lilah, I don’t know why you think I can’t do both. Why can I not do the band and do you at the same time?”
We both start to crack up and laugh at his choice of words.
“Because I have to do this”—I wave my hand at campus—“and you have to do your thing. I want to be with you, but I do not want to hold you back. At the end of summer term you will go to the States and I will stay here to work with Big Baz and come back to Uni.”
I kiss him to soften my words a little. “These are my terms. Take them or leave them.”
I put my hands on my hips for the whole two seconds it takes him to lean forward, grab me back towards him and say, “Take them.
I will take anything if it means I can be with you.”
“Excellent.”
I offer my hand so we can shake on the deal.
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss McCannon,” he smiles as he takes my hand. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”
“For three months only. Yes.”
I laugh and tug at his hand and pull him along.
“Where are we going?” he asks, as I start to tow him away from the tree.
“Home,” I throw over my shoulder, slipping off my stupid frickin’ high heels and slinging them in his direction. As we cross the grass, we see Tristan and Meredith poking their head out of the double doors of the bar.
Meredith gives a little whoop as they spot me padding barefoot along the path with Ben behind me.
Tristan gives his slow, sarcastic clap.
Excited as I am to get home with my boyfriend of the next three months, I still have the time to turn and flip my brother a zap sign.
This is it. We are together and I am just going to go with it. Give it everything I can before Ben is gone and I regret it forever.
Awesome.
10th March
Sunday. Yes! I plan to do exactly the same as yesterday, which is nothing but be holed up in my bedroom with my boyfriend.
Yep, my boyfriend. I didn’t ever think I was going to say those words.
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.
The boyfriend has gone to make tea and toast. I am not getting up. I could get used to this!
I know it is only a relatively short-term arrangement, but I don’t care, I am going to embrace it and enjoy it. Hell, some people never get to meet someone that makes them feel the way Ben makes me feel, so I am just going to go with it. If three months is all there is, then it is better than nothing in my book. This is what we whispered in the darkness last night, as we both tried to put our feelings into words. He is far more eloquent than me, embarrassingly so. I ended up going for the more direct approach of attempting to show him how I felt. I think he got it in the end. I might never say the words out loud but I am pretty sure he knows that I am in love with him. How could I ever not be?
