by Beth Garrod
Maybe this was why festivals were so great – anything really could happen. As we danced along to the last song, my phone vibrated. A message from my sister in the family group.
JO: Like mother like daughter.
And a picture of me yelling into the loudhailer.
(And a that she was trying to make her new signature sign-off).
Today really was surreal – my sister was being voluntarily nice about me to Mum!?
Mum instantly started typing back.
MUM: SO proud of my Bellington Boot!!!
A picture then attached. I clicked download.
Something hairy, and red, and warty was on the screen.
MUM: OOPS THAt s a pic of Mumbles nipple rash Itook for the vet!!! Laugh Out Loud!!
She followed up with a short video of her grinning face, which took up just the bottom left corner of the picture, the rest being our kitchen ceiling. She didn’t move and just wobbled a bit, clearly thinking she was taking a photo.
ME: Love you guys.
And I meant it.
And when the band finally came off stage they got the biggest cheer ever. Press, photographers and celebs all swarmed around them, trying to grab moments and pics for Insta. Rach filmed the whole thing, including an interview with Ruby about the protest, and uploaded it straight to our #StopTheSession website and Instagram, along with a gallery of pics I’d transferred from my camera. On the homepage we put the biggest shout-out to Brenda and Ruby (Rach and I decided they were our new MGC) and I shared the link with Mum and Jo immediately.
But despite being surrounded by loads of my favourite bands, there was only one person I cared about.
Adam.
And as soon as he came off stage, he headed over.
“Bells – I can NEVER thank you enough.” He shook his head, tiny beads of sweat flying off it, as he tried to take it all in. “Best. Night. Of. My. Life.”
We smiled in shared celebration, before remembering that things were not OK between us.
“No probs.” I shrugged. “Just please never, ever do the same for me. My idea of actual hell.”
“Noted.”
“Although…” I got out my camera. “When the world tour happens, remember who’s up for being the official photographer?”
I flicked through some of the photos, his eyes becoming wider with each one.
“These are amazing! I love them!”
I stared at the screen like it could protect me from the fact neither of us knew what to say about my dropping the L-bomb earlier. (Which was ironic, as about a thousand other people were commenting online about it after someone posted a clip of the audio.)
“I can send you a couple?” I kept the conversation firmly on logistics, not emotions.
“Ah, yes, please, then I’ll forward them on. My parents were listening to that whole thing live.” He showed me his most recent message. It was from his dad.
DAD: We’re listening live, son! So proud.
As we were looking, a picture of his mum, brother and dad popped up, all thumbs up and massive smiles.
“Is…” I zoomed in. “Is…”
Adam nodded. “Yup, my dad is moist of eye.” He laughed. “What have you done, Bella?! It’s the end of the world as we know it!”
“Adam?” A tall lady with a rolled-up T-shirt on broke into our conversation. “Have you got five? We’d love to grab a quick chat for the radio?” Adam looked at me, as if trying to get silent permission. We both knew we had unfinished business. “All your bandmates are already there.”
I smiled and mouthed: “Go.”
“Bella, can I see you later then?” Whoa, real name usage frightened me as it meant he was saying something serious. “We do need to talk.”
It wasn’t talking that was scaring me. It was the listening. To him probably saying “it’s better if we’re just friends”. And the resulting crying and trying to permanently hermit myself in my tent even after all the festival had cleared away. But he didn’t need to know that, so I just said, “Sure.”
With Adam off with his bandmates, I headed back to Rach and Tegan, who were loving the backstage after-party. We spent the final hours of the final night sneaking off to investigate the VIP areas (they had proper showers! Rach borrowed their hair straighteners!), taking casual photos of ourselves (entirely set up to make sure we got a celeb in the background), giving The Session crew a hand as they packed up their merch (never to be seen again!) and leaping around on the light-up dance floor. During one particularly enthusiastic rendition of “Wild Thoughts” I spotted Ruby smiling on from the side of the stage. She’d basically made my entire life. She’d even sorted Rach with the passes she needed to camp with us, so she didn’t have to see ex-MGC. But the more I thanked Ruby, the more she said not to worry. And was I definitely taking on enough liquids as I was really sweating.
Hours later as we ambled back, I still couldn’t take it all in. So much had happened. But this night with my friends had been exactly what I needed – and it was probably the only thing that could have powered me through not messaging Adam. I wanted him to know that I could give him the time and space he needed (even if in reality I couldn’t, and had to get Rach to change the thumb lock on my phone to hers).
“Well, that was one hell of a weekend.” Rach was sitting up in our tent, squashed between Tegan and me. We’d connected our two sleeping bags to form one mega-bag. It had just gone 1:30 a.m. and was freezing.
Tegan sipped on one of the hot chocolates we’d nabbed from the backstage area. It was 50% drink, 49% mini marshmallows, and 1% jelly bean (they’d had unlimited pick and mix too).
“Sure was – who’d have thunk we’d manage to actually stop The Session?”
Rach pinched one of Tegan’s marshmallows. “And they’ve blocked Brian’s account. And @Hey Its The Session HQ – so we are officially a no-troll zone. I’ve even gone public again.”
“Hellooo-hah?”
The three of us looked at each other. It was Adam.
“Yessss?” I replied with as much calm as I could (zero).
“Don’t suppose you’ve got a minute, do you, Bella?”
It really depended what the minute was for. It was for him dumping me, then no, all my minutes were taken.
“Sure.” I said it casually, but had clamped my hands on top my head, shaking it violently at the others in a “no no no, this can never happen” fashion.
Tegan nudged me in the leg, and whispered, “I think he can probably see our silhouettes.”
He definitely could. I took my hands down and clambered out.
As I did, Rach’s voice came up from inside the tent. “Don’t forget we’ve still got a bag of Haribo.”
We’d said we’d save it in case I needed emergency cheering up later. Her way of reminding me they were both right here, millimetres away, ready to help whatever happened.
“Maybe later…” I replied, letting her know I understood. “Won’t be long.” I looked at Adam, hoping he’d say, “No, she’ll be ages, and absolutely nothing bad will happen.” But all he did was look at the ground and say, “Shall we go to my tent?”
In silence we picked our way through the groups of people having late-night campfires. Normally I’d worry about the mix of trip-hazard guy ropes and naked flames, but I’d run out of energy to panic about anything other than what Adam was about to say.
He unzipped the tent door. “Marcus is out with the others…” He held the flap up for me to go in. “I tried to tidy as much as I could.”
I shone my torch round. On one side was Adam’s stuff all neatly laid out; on the other was one big bag that looked like it was exploding with empty Pringle tubes, SpongeBob boxer shorts and a book called In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust. Adam saw me do a double take.
“He wanted to ‘appear intellectual if any girls came back’.” I was surprised he even owned it, to be fair. “He bought it from a charity shop on the way here, and it’s been great for him … as an emergency pillow.”
I couldn’t help but laugh (as did someone in a neighbouring tent).
I sat down cross-legged, opposite Adam’s sleeping bag, making sure I didn’t make any physical contact with him. I wasn’t sure what the boundaries were in this new world.
On one hand, I wanted to stay here for ever. On the other, I couldn’t wait to escape.
I studied a bit of my nail varnish that was coming off. “Sooooo…”
He sat down. “So.”
C’mon, Bells, be brave, be breezy.
“Whaddya want to talk about then?”
Adam picked at some mud on his shoelace. “I … think it’s … it’s time we … had a proper chat.”
I exhaled. I felt so helpless. So scared.
I didn’t want to beg, I didn’t want to plead – but I couldn’t just let this happen without saying anything.
“Can I just say one thing first?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“I’m really sorry. When I said I had no more secrets, I meant it. It’s you that’s important to me, not what anyone else thinks.” A scoff came from tent neighbour. I didn’t know them, but I already hated them. Adam was still scratching at his shoe, building himself up for what he had to say.
“So why did you let everyone gossip about us like that?”
Good question.
“’Cos I’m an idiot?” I tried to laugh, but my voice was definitely nearer the crying side of the spectrum. “A really sorry idiot.”
And the tears that had been in the eye waiting room finally fell. Adam looked up, not sure what to do.
“Don’t cry, Bells.” Why did people always say that like it’s a decision you can make?! “It’s not just you that’s not been honest.” Worrying. “I’ve been a bit of an idiot too.” What had he done?! “I hardly saw you ’cos of my parents being all weird with us, although I guess you figured that out. Then this weekend I kind of…” He let out a little growl of frustration at not being able to find the right words. “I was kind of weird as well… Those girls, they just got to me. Always making comments, and putting pressure on us to, y’know, do stuff. I just felt like everything was one big performance.” Where was he going with this?!
“And then there was what happened earlier. That ‘celebration’ video.”
I wanted to explain but my mind was stuck on a frantic loop of keep it together breathe keep it together breathe and all I managed was a “sorry”.
“We haven’t even spoken about it, so it’s kind of annoying that you seem to be talking to everyone else about it.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “Well, everyone except me.”
“But that’s not how it was! I promise.” I knew how desperate I sounded. “They were talking AT me.” But I knew I should be explaining, not defending myself.
Adam shrugged. Was he even listening?
“And it all just made me think.” Oh great. Here it comes. “I need to be honest with myself. And with you. About how I really feel.”
Honesty – I honestly think it’s overrated. Could he not just pretend to like me (regardless of how he feels) for, say, another sixty or seventy years? That could work?
I looked down and shut my eyes. Assume the bad news brace position.
But the only thing I heard was … a fart.
“Sorry!” side neighbour yelled.
“No problem!” I shouted back, secretly vowing to hunt him down and turn up with a klaxon to all of his important life events. But Adam didn’t even acknowledge it, focused on what he had to say.
He looked up at me, worry all over his face.
“Bella … I just can’t do this.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
I pushed myself up. I had to get out of here. “I get it.”
I needed to be back with Rach and Tegan. Now.
Adam stood up. “Don’t be like that … please?”
How was I meant to be? Totally fine, and say a formal goodbye with a polite handshake?
“I have to go.”
Adam grabbed my hand. “Will you hear me out?”
I knew I should probably hear his reasons, but I knew I couldn’t do it now. “Sorry – I have to go.”
He dropped back to the floor. “I hoped you’d feel the same.”
I laughed. A genuine laugh. How dare he – I’d told him exactly how I felt a couple of hours ago. A tiny bit of my soul-crushing hurt shifted into anger.
“You know full well I don’t.”
“How could I?” Suddenly it was him who sounded desperate.
“’Cos I told you?!”
How funny that our first big argument was also our last.
“We’ve never spoken about it, Bella!”
He’d officially lost me. I turned back from the door.
“Sorry – did you totally miss the conversation that we had after your gig? You know, me shouting my feelings into a microphone? Kind of a low point for me dignity-wise?”
His eyes narrowed, like I was being the confusing one. “You do know what I’m talking about, right?”
Great. Not content with keeping me tent hostage, now he wanted me to self-dump myself.
“Yes, Adam. You breaking up with me.”
But he didn’t react like I thought. He opened and shut his mouth, shaking his head.
“No…” He sped up the shaking. “No no no?!” He stood back up and grabbed my hand. “How could you think that?”
I had no idea what was happening.
“’Cos you walked off. And said we needed to talk?” Was I being dumped, or not?! “And that you couldn’t do it?”
“Sex!!!” He shouted in my face. “I meant sex. That’s what I wasn’t ready for.”
Tent neighbour spluttered.
“Oh, do one, will you?” Adam yelled in his direction.
But my brain was on overload. “So you weren’t dumping me?”
Adam looked a mixture of upset and happy all at once. “No … the opposite!” What did that mean? “I wanted to make sure you were OK with taking things slow? ’Cos I really like you.”
Slow? Slow?! That sounded SO much better than stopped.
“So you’re not dumping me?” I was stuck on repeat, still not able to believe it. Adam laughed, and took both of my hands in his.
“No, of course I’m not. Because, in case you hadn’t noticed Bella Fisher –” he looked me dead in the eye “– I’m completely and utterly in love with you.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
Several things then happened in a blur.
The best kiss of my whole entire life.
Me running to tell Rach and Tegan it was all OK.
Me running back to tell Adam I 100% also wanted to take it slow.
A happy dance so violent I may have strained an elbow.
Adam picking me up outside his tent, spinning me round, and then having a new entry as best kiss of my entire life.
And when we finished kissing he leant back, looked at me, and said “I love you” one more time, before giving me the most gentle kiss on the nose. It was the best feeling in the world.
It felt so weird, naughty almost, to be able to say those words out loud to him. Like swearing in front of a parent.
Marcus texted saying he was going to stay with some other mates, so after everything I ended up spending the night in Adam’s tent. And it felt amazing. Going to sleep with his arms around me, waking up with him next to me (obviously I had to have at least ten pieces of Bubblemint gum to try and shift my morning breath, but I knew I couldn’t look any worse than during my peak lobster sweat).
Was it creepy to think he looked hot while he was sleeping?
“Can I come in?” I blinked out of my Adam staring. Why was Rach here? She didn’t wait for an answer, and unzipped the tent, poking her head through the opening. “Morning, lovaaaars!” I think it was meant to be a farmer accent, but she sounded more like a pirate.
A noise a bit like “Maureen” rumbled out of Adam. I think he was attempting to say
morning. He gave me the biggest sleepy grin as he rubbed his eyes, before sitting up behind me and putting his arms around me.
Bliss. Give or take the fact I’d slept in my bra and thought the wire might now be piercing one of my lungs.
“Can I, er, come in too?” Tegan’s voice came from the other side of the door; she was slightly less comfortable at the thought of just walking in.
Rach pushed the entrance open and tugged at her leg. “Get in here, I TOLD you they wouldn’t mind.”
Technically we hadn’t actually replied, but I’m pretty sure neither of us minded.
“Sorry not sorry to interrupt, butttt.” Rach plonked herself down beside us. “In fact. No words. Just. THIS.”
She held her phone up, Rach and Tegan giving each other looks as Adam and I tried to work out what she was showing us.
It was the pictures I’d taken, that she’d posted last night. Adam on stage. The protest.
I’d already sent the link to my mum – maybe they’d forgotten. I engaged as much enthusiasm as I could, not wanting to disappoint them.
“Cool!”
Rach looked disbelieving. “Is that it?”
I looked at Tegan for some help.
“You do know what you’re looking at, right?”
Was it a trap?! “Erm, our website.”
Rach bounced with excitement. “Na-ha.” She bounced again. “Scroll up, scroll up.”
It was the website for Worcester Daily News – our local paper. And the entire home page was a mash of my pictures, and headlines like “Local Girls’ Rebellion As Session Learn Their Lesson”, and “Wet Donald Project saves the day for RebelRocks”, alongside the most incredible pictures of Adam in action. I’d even been credited as the photographer.
Rach squeaked. “You’re basically Liam and Miley!” She squeaked again. “But sort of totally different and better!!!!”
I couldn’t stop scrolling. They’d used my pictures. My photography was good enough.
