Loveless

by Alice Oseman

‘I know,’ said Rooney, rubbing one eye with her fist. ‘I just … I thought having a boyfriend was the best thing ever. I thought I was in love. So I immediately gave everything up. Beth. Everyone else I knew at school. My whole life was at that school. I had … hobbies. Me and Beth did all the school shows. I went to the drama club. I’d always pester the head of drama to let us do a Shakespeare and she’d always give in. I was … happy. I was actually happy.’ Her voice quietened. ‘And I gave all of it up to be with my boyfriend.’

  And Beth had forgotten her. Rooney had remembered, Rooney had never stopped thinking about what her life would have been like if she hadn’t chosen ‘love’ over everything else. She’d never stopped imagining what it would have been like to grow up with someone who really, genuinely cared about her.

  ‘My life was just horrible throughout the three years we dated. Well, I say dated, if you’re not counting the ten billion times he broke up with me, then decided we should get back together. And all the times he cheated on me.’ Rooney’s eyes were damp. ‘He decided everything. He decided when we would go to parties. He decided we should start drinking and smoking and going to clubs using fake IDs. He decided when we would have sex. And I just kept thinking … as long as he was happy, then I must be living my dream. This was love. He was my soulmate. This was what everyone wanted.’

  And this had gone on for three years?

  ‘It took everything for me to break up with him.’ A single tear rolled down her cheek and on to the pillow. ‘Because … breaking up with him meant accepting that I’d made a really, really bad mistake. It meant accepting that this was completely my fault and I’d … I’d fucked up my own life. I’d lost my best friend for nothing. And I could have been so happy, but love ruined me.’

  She broke down. She just started crying and she couldn’t stop, so I held her. I wrapped my arms round her and I held her tight and wanted to kill the guy who had done this to her, who was probably out there living his life and not giving a single fucking thought to any of this. I wanted to rewind time and give her the life she deserved because I loved her, and she was a good person. I knew she was a good person.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ I whispered. ‘You have to believe that.’

  She wiped frantically at her eyes, which didn’t help much.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said hoarsely. ‘This always happens when I talk about … stuff.’

  ‘I don’t mind you crying,’ I said.

  ‘I just … I hate the idea of people knowing me because … surely then they’ll hate me the same way I hate myself.’

  ‘But I don’t,’ I said. ‘I don’t hate you.’

  She didn’t reply. She kept her eyes closed. And I don’t know when we both fell asleep but we did, tangled up like that in our makeshift double bed, and I knew there was no easy way to fix this, but I hoped she felt safe, at least. Maybe I would never be able to replace Beth, and maybe Rooney would take a long time to dig her way out of these feelings, and maybe there was nothing I could do to help at all. But I hoped she felt safe with me.

  Sunday arrived, and I was wearing a full suit and tie – borrowed from one of Sunil and Jess’s friends, as I didn’t own anything nearly this cool myself – staring down at a rowing boat.

  It wasn’t one of the racing boats – it was wider, made for casual trips down the river, so we’d all actually fit in with the instruments and it’d be unlikely that anyone would fall out. But I was still starting to feel like this was a terrible idea.

  ‘This was a terrible idea,’ I said to Jason, who was standing next to me at the riverbank wearing a large, bright-yellow life jacket over his own suit and tie. It was a look.

  ‘It’s not a terrible idea,’ he said. ‘It’s a very good idea.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind. I want to die.’

  ‘Is it the boat you’re afraid of or what happens after we all get in the boat?’

  ‘All of the above. I regret that a boat was ever involved.’

  Jason swung an arm round me and gave me a squeeze. I rested my head against him.

  ‘You can do this, OK? I mean, you’re absolutely fucking insane for doing this, but this is literally going to go down in history. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it went viral.’

  I shot him a panicked look. ‘I do not want this to go viral. I want to do this and then never think about it again. No one is allowed to post this on YouTube.’

  ‘OK. It won’t go viral. We can forget this day ever happened.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Life jacket?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He helped me into a life jacket. Bright purple.

  Rooney approached us, also in a suit, with a navy life jacket on, holding her tambourine.

  ‘You ready?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  Sunil and Jess were behind us, instruments in hands. Sunil shot me a strong thumbs up.

  ‘Everything will be fine,’ said Sunil.

  ‘And if it’s not,’ said Jess, ‘at least we’ll have had fun!’

  ‘Now get in the fucking boat,’ said Jason.

  I sighed and got in the fucking boat.

  We had spoken to one of the few people I knew was friends with Pip. Or, rather, Jason had. Jason was friends with him on Facebook and had messaged him asking if he could get Pip to arrive at Elvet Bridge at five o’clock exactly – roughly the time the sun would start to set. The guy agreed.

  I’d done seven school shows and four youth theatre productions. I’d gone to university three hundred miles away from home, I’d agreed to share a room with a stranger, I’d gone clubbing for the first time despite knowing I’d hate it, and I’d come out to four whole people.

  Somehow, none of that was as scary as this.

  But I was going to do this. For Pip.

  To show her that I loved her.

  Jason – who I realised suddenly had built up a lot of muscle strength since joining the rowing club – rowed the five of us down the river. It wasn’t far from John’s to Elvet Bridge, but we started to draw a lot of attention as we approached the town centre, rowing along in our suits and ties with musical instruments stored cautiously at our feet.

  There was absolutely no need to do this from a boat other than for dramatic effect. And I was regretting it a little. But, overall, I knew that Pip would love this. Pip loved anything that was a little ridiculous and theatrical.

  The others were all laughing and gabbling excitedly, which I was glad for, because I was so nervous I couldn’t even talk. It was freezing too, but at least the adrenaline was keeping me warm.

  The bridge slowly approached from the distance. Sunil kept checking his watch to make sure we were on time.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Jason murmured from behind me.

  I turned to him, feeling comforted by his presence.

  ‘It’s gonna be amazing,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I tried out a little smile. ‘Thanks for helping.’

  Jason shrugged. ‘We’re friends.’

  I grinned. ‘Let me know if you need any help with any elaborate platonic gestures of your own.’

  ‘I will.’

  And when I turned back and looked up at the bridge, Pip was there.

  Her eyes were wide behind her glasses. The winter wind was whipping her hair into a mess of dark curls. She was bundled in a thick Puffa jacket, standing next to her friend who, thankfully, had brought her here on time.

  She was looking down at me, mouth open, absolutely baffled.

  I just grinned. I couldn’t help it.

  ‘Hi!’ I called up to her.

  And then she grinned back and shouted, ‘What the fuck?’

  I turned to everyone on the boat. Sunil, Jess and Rooney had picked up their instruments, ready to begin. They were waiting for me.

  ‘Ready?’ I said.

  They nodded. I counted them in.

  And then, with three accompanists, I stood on a boat o
n the River Wear and sang ‘Your Song’ – the version specifically from Moulin Rouge – to Pip Quintana, who didn’t yet know me as well as I wished she did, but despite that, was one of my favourite people I had ever met.

  We didn’t actually perform the full three minutes thirty-nine seconds of ‘Your Song’, instead keeping it to a safe ninety seconds so the whole thing didn’t become too embarrassing and awkward for anyone involved. But I was probably still going to look back on this and cringe for the rest of my life.

  When the song ended, we’d drawn quite a large crowd of onlookers from Durham’s town centre, and Pip’s smile was so wide and bright that all I could think about was that she looked like the sun. Our performance had done its job.

  Jason nudged me in the side.

  I looked at him, feeling how much my face was burning. ‘What?’

  ‘You need to ask the question.’

  Oh yeah.

  I grabbed the megaphone we’d brought with us from the bottom of the rowing boat – carefully, so I didn’t just fall into the water, which was becoming an ever-increasing danger by this point – and held it up.

  ‘Pip Quintana,’ I said, and it came out so loud through the megaphone that I made myself jump.

  Pip looked incredibly flustered and still did not seem to know what was going on. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Will you be my college wife?’

  The look on her face told me that she was not expecting that question.

  Then she smacked her palm on to her forehead. She realised.

  ‘YES!’ she shrieked at me. ‘AND I HATE YOU!’

  And then people just started applauding. All the random people who’d paused on the bridge and by the river to watch – a lot of students, but also local residents of Durham too – clapped, and a few of them cheered. It was a whole thing. Like in a movie. I prayed none of them had filmed it.

  And then Pip started to cry.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ I said. ‘Jason?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She’s crying.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  I started patting Jason on the arm. ‘We need to get to shore.’

  Jason grabbed the oars. ‘On it.’

  When we got to shore, Pip had already run down the steps from the bridge, made her way down the path and on to the grassy riverbank, and when I got out of the boat, she ran into me and hugged me so aggressively that I stumbled backwards, fell, and suddenly both of us were sitting waist-deep in the River Wear.

  Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter at all.

  ‘Why are you like this?’ was the first thing Pip said to me, furiously rubbing tears from her eyes, new ones replacing them just as fast.

  ‘Like … what?’ I asked, genuinely confused.

  Pip shook her head, sitting back from me a little. ‘This.’ She laughed. ‘I never would have done something like this. I’m too much of a dumbass.’

  ‘You’re not a dumbass.’

  ‘Oh, I am. Big, big dumbass.’

  ‘You’re talking to someone who is waist-deep in a river in February right now.’

  She grinned. ‘Shall we continue this conversation elsewhere?’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  We ended up getting back into the boat – with Pip, this time – and rowing all the way back to St John’s. Pip was so excited by this that she nearly capsized the boat and it took Jason and me quite a lot of effort to convince her to sit down and stay still, but we made it to college without any accidents.

  Rooney sat right at the back, trying not to look at Pip. I noticed Pip glancing back a few times, almost like she might say something to her, but she didn’t.

  Before we all disbanded on the college green, I thanked everyone for helping me.

  ‘All in the spirit of love,’ replied Sunil, slinging an arm round Jess.

  He was right, I supposed.

  All of this was for love, in one way or another.

  Pip and Rooney finally acknowledged each other’s existence when Pip said, ‘You were good … on the tambourine.’

  She’d meant it as a genuine compliment, but somehow it sounded like an insult. Rooney just said, ‘Thank you,’ and then mumbled something about having someone to meet in town, tore off her lifejacket, and left before Pip could say anything else.

  The last person to say goodbye was Jason. He gave me a tight hug, then walked away, the bottom of his trousers damp and water droplets on his sleeves.

  And then it was just Pip and me.

  It didn’t even need to be said that Pip would stay and talk with me that afternoon. She just did.

  It reminded me of the way we were the first year we met. Age eleven. That was the year we went everywhere with each other, trying to figure out if there was anyone else we could invite into our inner circle, and eventually realising that, for now, it was just us.

  I took her up to my bedroom. Rooney wasn’t there – she really had gone into town, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t be back for a while – but our beds were still pushed together, the sheets unmade, and everything from last night came back in a sudden rush. Rooney’s confession. The tears.

  I realised suddenly that this was probably not the best impression to give Pip, who had been angry at me and Rooney because she thought we were an item.

  ‘Um,’ I said. ‘This is not – we weren’t –’

  ‘I know,’ said Pip. She smiled at me, and I knew then that she believed me. ‘Hey, has Roderick shrunk?’

  She walked over to Roderick and crouched down. Despite the amount of leaves I’d had to cut off, he actually seemed to have grown since I last watered him. Maybe he wasn’t totally dead after all.

  Pip shivered suddenly, which was when I remembered that both she and I were pretty much drenched from the waist down.

  I dug out a pair of joggers for her and some pyjamas for me, and when I turned round, Pip was practically ripping her jeans from her legs in her haste to get out of them.

  My joggers were comically long on Pip, but she rolled them up and soon we were huddled on the carpet, our backs against the side of the bed, with mugs of hot chocolate and a blanket over our legs.

  I knew I needed to be the first to say something about everything that had happened, but I was still so bad at having deep conversations or talking about my emotions in any way that it took a few minutes of Pip chatting aimlessly about her course and her nights out with friends before I said what I really wanted to say.

  Which was, ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve already said that, but, yeah. I really am.’

  Pip looked at me.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I completely understand you not talking to me after the whole thing at the Bailey Ball,’ I continued, not quite able to look her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry for … you know, what happened. It was a shitty thing to do. For … several reasons.’

  Pip said nothing for a moment. Then she turned away and nodded.

  ‘Thanks for saying that,’ she said, awkwardly flattening her curls. ‘I … I think I knew right away that it was a mistake for both of you, but … yeah. It still hurt.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I just …’ She looked up at me, right in the eyes. ‘OK. We’re being honest, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Of course.’

  ‘Well … I did like Rooney. I really did.’ She tilted her head back. ‘I know I never outright said it, but … I didn’t want to admit it to myself. But you knew, right? I mean, you said you knew.’

  I had known. That’s what made this situation so awful.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  ‘I … I didn’t want to admit it, because, like …’ She laughed. ‘I am so fucking done with liking straight girls. Literally my whole teenage life I spend pining after straight girls, maybe getting like one kiss from a slightly curious girl who immediately goes back to her boyfriend, and then I come to uni hoping to finally meet a solid range of other queer girls … and I just immediately fall for a straight girl again.’ She smacked her forehead with o
ne hand. ‘Why am I the actual dumbest gay alive?’

  I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Pip, also grinning. ‘I know. I know. I was doing so well. I joined Pride Soc and LatAm Soc and I even went to a couple of those stupid Ultimate Frisbee games, but like … I was still making the same mistakes. Then when you and her kissed, I just – it just felt like the biggest betrayal from both of you.’

  I hugged her. Tight. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  She hugged me back. ‘I know.’

  We stayed like that for a long time.

  Then she said, ‘I just don’t understand why the kiss happened. Like … I don’t think I’ve ever been so genuinely shocked by anything in my life.’

  I felt myself go a bit red. ‘Didn’t Rooney explain?’

  ‘To be honest, I was so pissed off that I barely listened to what she was saying.’ She huffed out a laugh. ‘And by the time I calmed down, it was kind of too late.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Pip looked at me. ‘Georgia … I don’t want to … force you to talk about anything that you don’t want to talk about. Like, that’s not what people should do to anyone, especially their friends, and especially about things like … like sexuality.’ Her voice grew softer. ‘But … I at least want you to know that you can talk to me about it, if you want to, and I promise I would understand.’

  I felt frozen.

  She knew something was up.

  She’d known for ages, probably.

  ‘I don’t know whether you’d understand,’ I said in a very small voice.

  Pip paused, then let out a short, exasperated chuckle. ‘I’m not sure if you’re aware of this fact, Georgia Warr, but I am an exceptionally humungous lesbian with a lifetime of experience in gay thoughts.’

  I laughed. ‘I know. I was there all through your Keira Knightley phase.’

  ‘Erm, my Keira Knightley phase is still ongoing, thank you very much. I’ve still got that poster in my room at home.’

  ‘Still?’

  ‘I can’t throw it away. It represents my gay awakening.’

  ‘You can’t throw it away because she’s hot, you mean.’

  ‘Maybe so.’

  We both grinned, but I didn’t know where to go from there. Should I just say it? Should I find an article for her to read? Should I just drop this whole topic because she’d never understand?