by Jana David
Allie
That night, I lay in my bed back in my dorm room in complete darkness, staring at the ceiling. The events of the last few days replayed in my head on a continuous loop. It didn't seem real to me. All that had happened, it seemed more like a sweet dream than ugly reality.
I knew I could entertain the fantasy of being with Darcy, but it could never become reality. And I wasn't sure whether I even wanted it to.
As real as my feelings towards him were, Darcy and I would never survive in the real world. We could never be together, because we were both so broken.
Deep down, I had known that all along. And that was why I was with Ian. He was the one stable thing in my life. He was the constant, the rock, the one who kept me from going crazy.
And I think that's what he was to Darcy as well. I couldn't risk destroying their friendship.
Looking back, from the moment I walked into their lives I put a strain on the bond they shared. Neither of them had any siblings, and they were like brothers to each other.
Then I came along and messed everything up.
Now, I just didn't know what to do.
I didn't know if I could simply carry on after what had happened between Darcy and me. How would I survive being around him?
I needed to try, though.
And so, since sleep was out of the question anyway, I spent hours reminding myself of all the reasons why I loved Ian. I turned on my computer and clicked through the folders of pictures we had taken together.
There were ones from the very first week we'd been dating: him and me taking a selfie on the beach. I was smiling into the camera while Ian planted a kiss on my cheek.
I remembered feeling so happy and carefree that day. I was high on love and didn't think I could ever come to doubt those feelings.
And then I came across a photo taken the night of the bonfire. That night...I remembered it so clearly. It was the night of our first kiss.
All the volunteers had got together after a long day, and lit a small bonfire by the campsite. It was a beautiful night, warm and mostly mosquito-free. We were all in a good mood, having completed a huge project we'd been working on for about two weeks.
I sat down on a log bench a little off to the side, away from the hustle of the big group. I had made many friends in these few weeks, but I was still a bit of an outsider. I didn't mind, though. I chose to keep my distance. I was used to it. Too many questions otherwise.
Ian joined me a few minutes later. He simply sat down next to me and handed me a beer. Since running into him on the first day of volunteering, we'd seen each other constantly, but only while working. He was busy, I was busy, there was barely any time to sit down and talk properly. And to be honest, I'd kind of avoided being alone with him. We'd embraced that first day, and I knew he had forgiven me for not saying goodbye, but I still hadn't forgiven myself.
So he sat down and we started talking. We talked about the project for a while, but that subject was soon exhausted. That was when Ian turned towards me and asked, “Want to go down to the water?”
“Now? It's pitch-black out there.”
Ian patted his jacket pockets with his hands and eventually pulled out something that looked like a torch. “That's what these are for”, he said, proudly holding it up.
“You are absolutely serious, aren't you?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Ian held a hand out to me. “Come on, Al, take a walk on the dark side with me.”
Of course I got up and followed him. All my self-blame and feelings of guilt were fading so fast. It was impossible to feel bad while being around Ian.
We walked down the dark beach, and Ian shone the torch along the way so we wouldn't step into anything nasty.
I barely paid attention to where I was putting my feet, though. I was so wrapped up in him. As we were walking, we talked about the past. Things we remembered from our childhood, funny stories I'd almost forgotten. It was fun reminiscing about those times.
When we finally headed back to the camp, hobbling barefoot over the rocky path, I was dreading the night to come to an end.
“That was fun”, I said. “Can we do it again sometime?”
Ian stopped dead in his tracks. I wondered if something was wrong and was about to ask, when he turned to me, put a hand on my cheek and bent down so his eyes were level with mine. He surprised me, but his closeness wasn't an unwelcome one. I stood on tiptoes and let my hand rest against his chest.
Our noses were touching, but he was hesitating, asking for my permission. I answered him by looking deep into his eyes and giving him a little smile.
And then he kissed me. His lips were warm and soft, gentle and yet demanding. I readily opened my mouth for him, allowing his tongue to caress mine. I could have kissed him forever and never grown tired of it.
He pulled back, eyes still half-closed, and smiled at me. “Yeah, we can definitely do that again.”
When we got back to the camp, we were both reluctant to say goodnight. We stood in front of the little hut I shared with six other volunteers, and simply continued talking. When one of us would get ready to say goodnight, the other would find something else to say. We must have stood there for hours, simply catching up on life.
After my family moved to Brighton, I became much more secretive about my family and what was going on at home. I had people I hung out with at school, but no close friends. Nobody knew about my mother, and as far as I was concerned, it was for the best. But with Ian, I found it was freeing to be able to talk without having to be afraid I would say too much, reveal too much about my family. I didn't need to be on my guard around him. He knew everything, and he didn't judge.
So when we were both almost falling asleep standing up, he asked if I wanted to come back to his place.
I said yes immediately.
I remember not even feeling nervous. Around Ian, it was hard to feel anything besides safe and protected.
Ian was one of the supervisors, so he had his own room with adjacent bathroom. It felt amazing to have some privacy after having spent the last few weeks surrounded by six hardcore snorers.
Ian sat down on the bed and watched me as I looked around the room. It was simple, yet cosy. It wasn't actually his room, I was aware of that, but in the weeks he'd been here, he'd still somehow managed to make it his own. His clothes were strewn around the room in messy piles, there was a map of the area which hung on the wall next to the bed, where Ian had drawn in marks and arrows, and then there was the tin with his favourite biscuits, which sat on the table.
I smiled to myself. Some things never changed.
I went to use his bathroom, and when I came back, Ian was already in bed.
“Get in”, he said, patting the space next to him, but not in an I-want-to have-sex-with-you kind of way. That was another thing which set Ian apart from other guys I knew. The boys I usually hung out with were all about sex, getting laid, and then bragging about it to their mates the next day.
Ian was different. Maybe it was because we had known each other as children and were now falling back into that role of innocent friends, but when we finally fell asleep, we were wrapped up in each other's arms, still fully clothed.
I remembered that feeling, something I had never felt before. It was simply peaceful. I have no other way to describe it than to say I felt like a warm, soft blanket had been draped over me, keeping my heart warm wherever I went.
And the night a few days later, when we actually did have sex, that was the night my heart went up in flames.
I had to remind myself of that now. I had to remind myself how incredible his hands had felt, exploring every inch of my body. How his kisses had burned my skin and how he had made me feel things no other man had ever made me feel before.
I reminded myself of all the nights I spent on the phone with him, talking until one of us fell asleep. I thought back to those weeks where I crossed each day off the calendar, impatiently waiting for the day he would arrive to spent the weekend with me. Back then,
I lived and breathed for those few precious days we could spend together. Now, I dreaded the day he would return and I would have to face him.
I tossed and turned in bed, my frustration growing. No matter what I did, sleep was simply out of my reach.
Finally giving up, I decided to make myself some hot chocolate. As I was walking towards the kitchen, I noticed the light coming from underneath Jessica's door. I hadn't spoken to her much over the past few weeks and we still barely knew each other, but I felt the overwhelming need to confide in someone about what was going on. And I couldn't talk to my best friends about it, so that left me with very limited options.
Jessica opened the door in yet another colourful set of pyjamas.
“Hey, Allie”, she said, smiling when she saw me standing there. “How's it going? Want to come in?” She gestured for me to step inside.
Her room was the total opposite of mine. Every inch of the wall was covered in photographs, drawings and posters. It was so cheerful. My room still looked as empty as it had the day I moved in. I never did go shopping for decorations as Ian had suggested.
“Sit down”, Jessica said. I sat down on her bed, and she plopped down next to me, taking one of the many cushions that lined the headboard. She drew it up to her chest and rested her head on it, eyeing me with an inquisitive expression.
“So, what's bothering you?”
How did she know? Was it that obvious?
At first, I wasn't quite sure how to breach the subject, so we ended up talking around it for a while. But eventually it just spilled out. It felt so good to be able to tell someone, and it was easy to talk to Jessica, because she didn't know Darcy and Ian.
I told her everything, and she listened without once interrupting me. When I was done, Jessica let out a huffed breath.
“Wow, that's one hell of a story”, she said.
“I know”, I agreed flatly.
“So you haven't told Ian anything about that kiss—or should I say those two kisses?”
“No. Darcy and I never mentioned the first one. Not even to each other. Until Christmas Eve, anyway. And then came New Years and...well, I just told you what happened there.”
“And what now?”
“Now I have no idea what to do”, I admitted. “I could use some third party advice.”
Jessica was quiet for a moment. “Can I be honest with you?” she finally asked.
“Of course.”
“I was in a situation once, where I was part of a fucked up love-triangle, too. Only, I wasn't aware of it.” She picked at a loose thread on the cushion, not looking at me as she went on. “There was this guy I was dating a few years ago. He was my first love. At least, I thought I loved him. We'd only been seeing each other for a few months. It started as a rumour around school. People were saying he was seeing this girl from another school, that they'd been spotted at a club together. I didn't want to believe it at first.”
A rush of guilt spread through me. I knew she was telling me this story to give me a perspective on what it was like to be on the other end of the equation; to be the person who was left in the dark, ignorant of what was going on.
“So I confronted this guy”, Jessica went on, “and of course he denied it. He said people were just spreading rumours about him. He said they were all a bunch of spineless liars, and I believed him.”
I had come to Jessica for advice, but now I wasn't so sure I wanted to hear what she had to say.
“I eventually found out he'd been the spineless liar”, Jessica went on, “when I went to his house one day, and as I rounded the corner, I saw him. He was standing there on his doorstep, shoving his tongue down this girl's throat. It was the same girl he'd told me he wasn't seeing, that he didn't even know her. Well, let me tell you, they knew each other. On a very intimate level.” Jessica broke off,
I reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry this happened to you”, I said.
Jessica gave me a little smile and straightened up a bit, almost defiantly. “It was a long time ago. I moved on. But I wanted to tell you the story to show you that there are always two sides to a relationship. And both people have feelings that need to be considered. Be fair to your boyfriend. Don't hurt him any more than you already have.”
She was right. I had been selfish, only thinking about my feelings. Ian always thought considered me first. He was the selfless one in our relationship. I'd never thought about it much, had always taken his supportive and sweet nature for granted. What had I ever done for him, though? Not much, I had to admit. He was always there for me, and this was how I repaid him?
He truly deserved someone better than me.
Chapter 8