Girl Heart Boy: No Such Thing as Forever (Book 1) (5 page)

A couple of middle-aged women were doing the step-slide-step to ‘Don’t Stop Believin”, and Ollie
gleefully joined them. He knew all the words too.

Donna and I pushed our chairs back and stood up as one. ‘Anyone else?’ I asked, but the rest of the table declined. Cass usually loves a dance, but not when Adam’s around. So me and Donna boogied over to Ollie, and there we stayed for a good five songs. It was brilliant, and the first time I hadn’t thought about Joe since I’d left him in Spain.

‘Wahey, Aerosmith!’ Rich suddenly appeared beside us, twanging away on his air guitar and head-banging like a crazy person. Donna narrowed her eyes.

‘Rich …?’

He looked confused and then, getting her meaning, shook his head vehemently. ‘No, course not.’ He looked hurt. ‘In front of my best mate’s family? C’mon …’ Rich was a bit of a one for the illegal substances, but it was another thing about him you wouldn’t know unless you knew. Dancing until the sweat poured out of him was usually a sure sign, although tonight it seemed he was just on a natural high.

‘I’m parched,’ announced Donna when we got back to the table. She grabbed the water jug. ‘I’ll get a refill.’

‘Cass, what’s going on?’ asked Ollie, sitting beside her. ‘Grease Megamix wasn’t the same without you. I
did the man bits and everything.’ Cass just shrugged and smiled unhappily. Weird. Ollie and I exchanged confused looks.

‘Actually, I think I’ll get a drink too,’ she said. ‘Same again, babe?’ Adam caressed her bum as she stood up, which was apparently code for ‘Yes please’. Jack put down the remains of a giant scotch egg he’d manfully been working his way through.

‘I’ll come with you. S’pose I should say hello to people.’

Adam coughed. ‘Don’t think so, mate … Sit down, babe. I’ll get the drinks.’ He gestured for Jack to go first then followed him with his usual cacked-my-pants swagger.

‘Uh, what was that?’ asked Donna.

Cass looked miserable. ‘Adam’s got a bee in his bonnet about Jack again. He saw me “touch him” earlier, or something.’ She ran her hand through her hair. ‘It’s so silly.’

Silly was one word for it. ‘Babes, you’ve got to sort this out,’ said Donna. ‘It’s not like you can change the fact you and Jack have known each other forever. How many times have you told Adam there’s never been anything between you?’

‘I know. He’s just a bit insecure,’ said Cass. ‘He’ll get over it eventually.’ But she didn’t look convinced.

At that moment the object of Cass’s blind adoration
appeared back at the table, empty-handed. We all immediately and very obviously stopped talking, but he didn’t seem to notice. He took Cass’s coat off the back of her chair and held it out.

‘Actually, babe, let’s go. This party’s lame.’

And without a murmur she put her arms into her coat.

‘Bye then,’ said Ash, pointedly. Cass turned back for a moment, smiled apologetically and mouthed,
Sorry
, then trotted obediently after him, but a few seconds later she was back. ‘He’s just gone to the loo. Tell Jack I’m really sorry for leaving early, will you?’ Before we had time to respond, she’d rushed off again.

Two hours later, Ash was sucking the face off some cousin of Jack’s, obviously having decided to give DJ Alan a miss; Ollie had hooked up with Jas Mistry, a girl in the year below us, and was nowhere to be seen; Donna, Rich and Jack were doing shots; and I was moping. I wasn’t drunk enough to find the boys and Donna as hilarious as they found each other, and I missed Joe. I was sick of my heart leaping every time my phone made any kind of noise, only to have it break a tiny bit because it wasn’t him. But I wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat. After all, he had a few days left before his deadline was up. Not that he knew that.

I heaved a hefty sigh. Fun as it was watching Donna, Jack and Rich getting very drunk, I’d had enough. ‘I’m going to make a move,’ I announced, but they weren’t listening. So I left.

On Joe’s deadline day I kept my phone glued to my hand. There was almost some cosmic rightness in him getting back to me today, just as I’d nearly given up hope. Like a test of my commitment, or something. I know: mental. But I couldn’t believe that the connection we’d had didn’t mean anything. So even as the day came to an end, I remained optimistic. I was almost certain he’d get in touch.

Then as we were leaving school Donna asked me if I’d heard anything.

‘No, but –’

She interrupted: ‘God, men are dicks.’ She gave me a hug. ‘You gave him every chance, babes … Put this one down to experience.’ As I watched her walk away towards her bus stop, I finally realized it. He was never going to phone me. I’d given up my virginity to a holiday romance. I told myself it didn’t matter. Being a virgin wasn’t anything to be proud, or not proud of. It just was.

But it did matter. It mattered a lot. I had really, really liked him. Still did.

I tried anger on for size, aka the Donna and Ashley
way, but it didn’t fit. I wasn’t angry with Joe; I was angry with myself for being so bloody gullible.

Then came self-deprecation. ‘Ha ha, typical! I’m such a doof! Durr!’ *
slaps forehead
* But that was wrong too.

So in the end I settled for plain old weeping. Into my pillow, on to Cass’s shoulder, and once, embarrassingly, right in the middle of French. Ollie covered for me, earnestly telling our teacher Monique that he’d told me such an amazing joke I was actually crying with laughter, which made me snort a snot bubble.

It was a horrible time.

But then I got the text.

It was the Friday night after the Monday of the two-week deadline, and we were in The Hobbit: me, Donna and Ashley, Cass, Rich and Jack, and Ollie. And, unfortunately, Adam. He had Cass on his knee, the better to whisper in her ear, in response to which she’d giggle and give him a lily-livered slap. God, it was annoying.

I was so not in the mood. But the whole night had been organized by the boys as a cheer-up-Sarah event, so I couldn’t cry off to partake in my new hobby, the three Ms of getting over Joe: music channels (extra points for crying at cheesy ballads), microwave chips and moping.

So I’d put on clean jeans and one of my dad’s shirts, given my eyelashes a couple of half-hearted flicks with the mascara brush, dutifully turned up on time and, as always, was the first one there. I’d parked myself at one of the picnic tables outside, the weather being stupidly warm for late September, and hunched over my watermelon Bacardi Breezer (I only like alcohol if it doesn’t taste of alcohol).

Usually I loved this table, with the fairy lights in the trees casting everything in a blue glow and the noise from inside reduced to an atmospheric buzz, but all I could think about was my PJs and my bed. And Joe, obviously. He was still rudely trespassing all over my thoughts, with his lovely clean toenails and shapely calves. I growled and shook my head to get rid of the image, handily scaring away a couple of Emos who were about to share my table.

‘Hairy McSarey!’ came a voice from behind me. Ollie plonked down next to me, planted a kiss on my cheek and ruffled my hair. From anyone else it would have been irritating.

‘Hey,’ I said, forcing a smile.

‘Others not here yet?’ he asked.

I took a breath. Right. Socializing. ‘Nope.’ I looked around. ‘I thought you were coming with Rich and Jack.’

Ollie drummed two fingers on the table, his knees banging a counterpoint underneath. He’s always been a fidget. In primary school he was forever getting told off for playing with other kids’ hair during carpet time. Maybe that’s why he’s so into music now – playing the guitar and stuff seems to help channel all that nervous energy.

‘The others are at the bar,’ he said, closing his eyes and biting his lip in funky concentration as whatever music was playing in his head reached a crescendo.

‘So,’ he said suddenly, opening his eyes and putting away the imaginary finger drum kit, ‘How’s the heartache?’

I picked at the label on my bottle. ‘Oh. You know. Still there.’

He put his arm round my shoulder and did a hearty man-squeeze. ‘Well, you can forget all about it tonight.’

I managed a weak smile. He meant well, but Ollie had no idea what I was going through, a one-night stand being a bit too much of a commitment for him.

‘Here they are,’ he said, waving Rich and Jack over just as Donna and Ashley appeared, glued to each other as always. Five minutes later, Cass and Adam turned up and our little party was complete.

Calloo and indeed callay.

When my phone vibrated I could hardly summon the energy to pick it up.

‘Hey, Sarah, you OK?’ frowned Cass, as I opened the text and the colour drained from my face.

Was I OK? I looked up, a huge smile making my lips crack; it’d been so long. The girls’ eyes widened to Bratz proportions.

‘No frickin’ way!’ shouted Donna, grabbing for my phone. I pulled it out of her reach. Cass squealed and did a spot of super-fast girl-clapping. Even Ash was grinning.

‘What?’ said Jack, looking confused. Rich and Ollie looked just as vacant. Poor remedial boys.

Ashley stuck her tongue into her bottom lip. ‘Duh! She’s got a text from Joe.’

‘Oh shit. Nice one. What does it say?’ asked Jack, trying to seem interested, bless him.

I opened the text again and held my phone up so the others could read it. They all hunched forward.

Cass squealed again. ‘Oh my God, you have to go!’

I bit my lip. ‘Really? It won’t make me seem, like, easy?’

Ashley put a fingertip on her chin and cocked her head to one side. ‘Hmm, let me think.’ I rolled my eyes at her. ‘No, he won’t think you’re “easy”,’ she continued, making speech marks in the air, ‘because we aren’t actually living in the nineteen fifties.’

‘Yeah, loosen up, lady,’ said Donna. She pointed her beer bottle at me. ‘You want him?’ I gave her a look. ‘Go get him then! Shit, it’s not rocket science.’

Well, when she put it that way.

I started to text a reply.

‘Whoa, what are you doing?’ demanded Ollie, whipping my phone out of my hand.

‘Yeah, you can’t reply
now
,’ added Rich. ‘He kept you waiting.’

I looked around the table. Everyone was in agreement, it seemed. Even Adam was nodding sagely. I sighed. ‘Sorry, guys. I’m not into playing games. I always reply to texts straight away. Right?’ Acknowledgement all round. ‘So, if you’ll excuse me, I have an invitation to accept.’ I held my hand out for my phone then turned my back on everyone with a flourish.

I could imagine the
ooh get her
looks my friends were exchanging, but I was too excited to care. He’d replied! He, quote, had to see me! Yes, he’d taken nearly three weeks to get in touch, but he’d probably just been busy. Loads to organize before going back to uni, etc. And patience had never been my strong point. I quickly typed:

Talk about emotional rollercoaster. I was high on joy – and feeling like a tiny bit of an idiot for having played the drama queen. I hugged myself with glee and got on with enjoying myself, putting to the back of my mind the small matter of telling my parents that I was going to spend the weekend with Joe.

I didn’t get home till gone midnight, so it was morning before I had a chance to talk to Mum and Dad. I was showered, dressed and at the table eating my Alpen when Mum came downstairs.

‘I thought I heard you up and about,’ she said, planting a kiss on the top of my head. ‘Tea?’

I grunted assent through a mouthful of muesli mulch. She busied herself with kettle, mugs and teabags for a couple of minutes. ‘So. How are you feeling?’ she finally asked casually. I rolled my eyes. She was desperate for me to stop moping.

‘Yeah, good actually,’ I said brightly.

Mum beamed like I’d given her a present. ‘Excellent! About time you snapped out of the post-holiday malaise.’

‘Yeah, well. I’m fine. Thanks.’ I loved my mum, but she could grate on my nerves like a knife squeaking against a plate.

She gave me another kiss before putting my tea down in front of me. ‘Well, I’m pleased … So. Any plans for the weekend?’

I was pretty sure she would not be impressed if I told her I was skipping up to London for a weekend love-in. So I lied.

‘Ash’s mum’s away so she’s having the girls over for a DVD and pizza weekend.’ I made a show of
looking at the time on the microwave. ‘I’ll be off in a minute, actually.’

I was pretty proud of this little deception. It was wholesome enough for Mum to approve, but the fact that she’s not a huge fan of Ashley’s would ensure she didn’t instantly think I was making it up. Although actually she’d probably have believed whatever I told her. I’d never lied to her or Dad like this before.

‘At nine o’clock in the morning? That’s a lot of DVDs.’

I got up to put my bowl in the dishwasher. I didn’t trust my face not to give me away. ‘We’re spending the day at the beach first. Making the most of this Indian summer.’ I nodded towards the window. Which was covered with a fine mist of drizzle. Huh. Maybe should have thought that one through.

Still, Mum accepted it. I felt bad for deceiving her, but she wanted to believe I was having fun. And, anyway, my excitement at the thought of seeing Joe outweighed my guilt by about seventeen billion to one.

I skipped upstairs to grab my bag with a song in my heart and a salsa rhythm in my rudey bits. I had a quick look in the mirror on the landing and beamed at my reflection. Joe Joe Joey Joe! I checked the time on my phone. In three hours, we’d be together.

But as the train sped through the stations my giddiness gave way to nerves. I’d been so caught up in the joy of Joe I hadn’t thought about the fact that it wouldn’t just be him there but all his uni mates too.

I chewed my lip and stared at the countryside rolling by. Even the clothes I’d packed seemed wrong. Would all his friends be smoking spliffs and making intellectual jokes? And if the conversation got on to politics – or, let’s face it, any kind of current affairs that didn’t involve TV or celebs – I was screwed.