by Sara Barnard
The honest truth is I do feel that way about him, but that’s the last thing I’m going to admit out loud. Saying that would open a door I don’t want to walk through.
There’s a silence. ‘This is the bit when you say something,’ he says.
‘I like this song,’ I say.
He closes his eyes briefly, jaw clenching, like he’s trying to control himself. ‘Yeah.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Kings of Leon.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Suze …’ His jaw clenches tighter. He glances at me, sighs, and says, ‘“Pyro”.’
‘OK. I like it.’
He waits a little longer, then shakes his head. ‘I should get back to Kel.’
‘Yeah.’ I open the car door and get out, all in one natural movement. ‘See you later, then, maybe.’
He mutters, ‘Great.’
I take a second to lean down before I close the door to smile at him, properly, so he doesn’t drive away and forget why he likes me, then head up the steps to my building without looking back.
32
‘Need the Sun to Break’
James Bay
Matt arrives at Ventrella Road early that evening with a paper bag in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. ‘Burritos,’ he says, lifting the first. ‘And beers!’ He lifts the other, and I smile at the familiar clink from within.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Hi!’ he replies, beaming. He steps through the door I’m holding open, leaning to kiss me on the cheek on the way past. He’s never done that before, and it’s so coupley it makes me laugh.
‘Are you stoned?’
‘Only very slightly,’ Matt says. He laughs.
‘You didn’t drive, did you?’
‘Nope! Walked. Now, I wasn’t sure what kind of burrito you liked, so I got five, all different meats and salsa types.’
‘You got five burritos?’
‘I panicked,’ he says. ‘Didn’t want to turn up with the wrong burrito like a dick.’
‘You could’ve just called and asked,’ I say.
‘I could,’ he says. ‘But then I wouldn’t get to be the guy who turned up with five burritos. And we wouldn’t get to laugh about this in three years’ time. You’ll go, “Hey, Matt, remember when you bought all those burritos?”’
‘Three years’ time?’ I repeat, smiling.
‘A conservative estimate,’ he says, and he smiles back. ‘Come choose a burrito.’
We sit on the floor together, leaning against my bed, to eat. I’m tempted to offer to open the beers with my teeth, but I restrain myself and he uses his keys instead.
‘So how’s Kel?’ I ask. I’ve taken the beef with habanero salsa and it’s hot and spicy and so good.
‘Better,’ Matt says. ‘He’s mellowed out a lot since earlier. The weed helped, obviously. He says it’s not actually a surprise; it’s been coming for a while. Long-distance, you know? He hoped they’d beat the odds, but they haven’t. It happens. Have you spoken to Caddy?’
I shake my head. ‘She’s super-mad at me. It might take her a while to cool off.’ I don’t add that she might never cool off, not this time. That I might have blown it. ‘I hope she’s OK.’
‘Do you think she’ll get with that guy? The one Kel says she liked?’
‘I doubt it,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t about him, anyway. Not really. Besides …’ I mean to say that I’ve probably ruined him for her, but change my mind. ‘He’s not worth her time.’
Matt raises his eyebrows at me, and I shoot him a grin, all innocence and mischief, and he laughs. Thank God, he’s not going to be weird about that whole thing again.
‘Was Kel all right with you leaving?’ I ask. ‘To come here, I mean?’
‘He said I should,’ Matt says, surprising me. He smiles. ‘We talked about you.’
‘Oh God.’
‘All good things,’ he says. As he speaks he lifts his hand and trails his fingers along my wrist, sending tingles up my skin, to my neck, tracing down my spine.
‘Can I hear some of them?’ I ask, teasing. ‘I could do with an ego boost.’
He kisses me instead, which is just as good, if not better. I sink into him, the two of us unfolding together the way we do, and I think all good things. Every single tiny good thing, and this. Out of nowhere, I laugh, and I don’t even know why. He could be offended but he’s not, because he laughs too, his nose brushing mine, tongue against teeth.
‘Sorry,’ I say. It’s hard to kiss when you’re smiling so wide.
‘Suze,’ he says, his mouth moving from my lips to my cheek to my neck. His hand, still at my wrist, slides down and entwines in mine. His voice is a breath, he’s still half laughing. ‘I’m so completely in love with you.’
And everything stops. My laughter, the breath in my throat, my heart.
He doesn’t notice, not straight away. Not until he pulls back from my neck to see my face, which is rigid. Definitely not smiling any more. I’m trying to keep the panic down, to stop myself running for the door.
There’s a moment when we just look at each other, like we both want to put off what’s going to happen next. When the grenade that he’s thrown with these words explodes.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
‘Are you joking?’ I’m giving him an out. Take it back, I think. Please.
He squeezes my hand, which he’s still holding. ‘Nope.’
There is so much wrong, so much I want to say, that I don’t even know where to start. What comes out is, ‘You think it’s a good time to tell a girl you love her after your best friend just broke up with her best friend?’
For some reason, Matt smiles. ‘Firstly, we don’t really know who broke up with who. Kel says it was mutual. And second, if your objection to me saying I love you is the timing, then I’m pretty happy about that.’
‘You know it’s not.’ I try very, very hard to keep the panic out of my voice. ‘You know it’s not. What do you even want from me?’
‘Well, you saying it back would’ve been good,’ he says. ‘But that’s OK.’ He smiles at me, so genuine and sweet I have to turn away, snatching my hand back too hard, getting up and walking away from him. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I thought it was a good thing.’
‘What do you want?’ I say again. I cross my arms over my chest, tight and safe. ‘Can you just spell it out, because I can’t—’
‘You,’ Matt says, standing. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’
Oh God, I don’t know how to deal with this. ‘What, you want to be my boyfriend or something?’ The word ‘boyfriend’ makes my stomach turn over, the heat rising from my chest up to my face. Boyfriend. Commitment. Pressure. Dependence. Love. I feel sick.
‘Well, yeah.’ He’s more cautious now, his head tilted just slightly as he looks at me, his voice more gentle, like I’m a hissing cat he’s trying to soothe. ‘If that’s what you wanted, too.’
‘It’s not. You know it’s not.’
‘OK, but—’
‘I’m not ready for a relationship. I don’t even want one. You know that.’
‘I thought …’ He trails off, his forehead creasing. ‘I thought maybe you’d change your mind, like I have.’
‘Why?’ It comes out like an assault, and I try to get a hold of myself. ‘Because you’re just so great?’
Matt’s eyes widen a little, like I’ve really surprised him. Which just proves my point, really. Because he clearly doesn’t know me very well if he’s surprised that I get mean when I’m blindsided like this. And how can he want to be with me if he doesn’t know me? (That’s probably why, my head says. Because he doesn’t know you at all.) ‘Hey,’ he says, gentle. I don’t want him to be gentle. ‘I meant the way we are together. It’s like … like we fit. Don’t you feel it too?’
‘No,’ I say, a total lie. ‘And even if I did, I don’t want to be your girlfriend. I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. You know that. I t
old you that. We …’ I know the words are going to sound stupid, but I say them anyway. ‘We had an agreement.’
‘Things can change, though,’ he says. He’s still so calm, and it’s winding me up, making me feel both cornered and exposed. ‘I didn’t think I wanted any of that stuff. But with you it’s just … it makes sense. All of it – it makes sense.’
‘How nice for you,’ I say.
‘Suze, come on,’ he says. ‘Tone down the bitch attack, yeah?’
God, I hate this. I hate this. I hate that he calls me Suze and he says ‘come on’ like he knows me, that his voice is so warm. I hate that he still thinks this is a romantic scene that hasn’t reached the kissing bit yet, instead of realizing that I’m fucking serious about being unloving and unlovable. I do not want this.
I must say it out loud because he says, ‘But why don’t you want it?’
‘Because I’m fucked up!’ The words burst out of me, much louder than I’d intended. ‘OK? Don’t you get that? It’s not about you. It’s about me. If you think I’m just waiting around for the right guy to love me, that’s not it. I’m not waiting to be saved. That isn’t what this is.’
‘You’re not fucked up.’
‘Yes, I am.’ My hands are shaking, so I ball them into fists. ‘I don’t need you to tell me that I’m not. I’m dealing with it.’
‘Well, fine,’ he says. ‘That doesn’t have to mean you’re on your own. Do you think only stable people have relationships?’
The words feel like a trap, so I sidestep them. ‘You’re ruining everything. This isn’t even about me. You spent too much time with Kel, you had a bit of weed, you’re jealous that I kissed some other guy, and you want me to be yours.’
‘I want us to be each other’s,’ he says, and even though my head is a mess of confusion I still manage to think what a shame it is that he’s wasted this great line on me.
‘Today,’ I say. ‘Today you do.’
He shakes his head. ‘I lied about not writing songs about you,’ he says. ‘I’ve written five. Five since I met you. One of them is called …’
‘Don’t.’
‘… “Manic Pixie Dream Blues”.’
I can’t help it; I laugh, even though it’s the last thing I thought I’d do in this middle of this hellish conversation that’s only going to get worse.
He grins, hopeful but still cautious. ‘I’ll sing it for you.’
‘Don’t you dare.’ I cross my arms tighter over my chest, shaking the smile from my face, needing to see his disappear. ‘So what, anyway? Some song no one will hear?’
His face changes when I say this; a jolt of hurt, but also a kind of understanding, like something’s clicked into place for him. He’s shaking his head. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’
‘Do what?’
‘Push me. Try to make me say something that’ll hurt you. That’d make it easier, wouldn’t it? Well, I’m not going to.’ He raises his hands up, either in surrender or provocation, I can’t tell. ‘You can be peak bitch to me all you like. It won’t work.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Will you just go?’
‘Is that what you want?’
I look at him, his face slightly flushed, jaw tense. I want to rewind, that’s what I want. I want kissing in his car, dancing in his room, beers on a bathroom floor. When love was something unspoken, something warming the space between us, instead of a promise neither of us will be able to keep.
‘This is too complicated,’ I say.
‘Is it?’ He takes a step towards me. ‘Listen. Just listen, OK? I love you. I know you don’t want to hear it, and fuck knows I never thought I’d want to say it, but it’s true. You’re like … fire, Suze. Being around you, it’s just …’ He shakes his head again. ‘I don’t know what love can possibly be if it’s not this. If it’s not how I feel right now, with you, even though you’re looking at me like that. It can’t just be a one-sided thing. I think you feel it, too.’
‘Well, I don’t.’ There’s a coldness in my voice I don’t even recognize, and even as I speak I’m thinking, What the fuck are you doing? ‘I don’t even care about you.’
‘I know that’s not true.’
‘Then you’re kidding yourself.’
He looks so hurt. And sad. I suddenly hate myself so much I want to crawl out of my own skin, sink into the floor, disappear forever. So much of me wants to say, Stop, no, I take it back, but the rest of me is fighting, fighting, fighting. And all that battle inside me is exploding out in these horrible words to this boy who’s been nothing but good to me. I am the worst person. I am cruel and empty and cold.
It’s either cry or fight, and I won’t cry. If I cry, he’ll comfort me, and I’ll be lost. So I try to fight, but he won’t fight back. He’s just looking at me like he’s looking at me, and it’s more than I can bear.
‘Hey,’ I say, letting my voice loosen and warm, relaxing my arms from their tight, shield-like grip across my chest. His eyebrows furrow at the sudden change in tone. I let my shoulders fall a little so I’m looking up at him, tilting my chin, trying a smile. ‘Can’t we just …’ I take a step towards him and his eyes flicker over my face. ‘Forget this? Please? We’re good together, aren’t we? Just as we are? No labels, no bullshit.’
‘Suze,’ he says, so soft. I can feel the heat of him, his mouth so close to mine.
‘If you want me, you can have me,’ I say, taking another tiny step forward so my body is almost touching his, a breath away. I’m so close to getting this back, to having solid ground beneath my feet. ‘You know that.’
When I kiss him, there’s a moment when he doesn’t respond but then I feel it, the moment he gives in, his mouth opening against mine, his hand sliding around my waist. I unfold against him, the two of us fitting together so, so perfectly. Oh God, it’s so right. He’s so right. He shouldn’t be, but he is. Him and me, this unexpected us. His hand falls on the small of my back and pulls me in tighter. I’m thinking, This is perfect. I’m thinking, This is all this needs to be. I don’t need him to love me, I just—
And then he stops. It’s not a sudden movement, it’s more like he stills, his mouth breaking from mine. There’s a second when we’re breathing together, his fingers under my T-shirt, firm on my bare skin. He says, ‘No.’ He moves back so I can see that he’s shaking his head. ‘I don’t want you like this.’ His eyes on mine. ‘I don’t want you.’
My breathing is uneven. I say, ‘Get out, then.’
And he does.
33
‘The Night We Met’
Lord Huron
None of this has gone how it was supposed to go.
I’m lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling from the floor of my bedsit. The bed would be more comfortable, but I don’t want to be comfortable. I want to lie on the floor, to feel the unrelenting hardness against the ridges of my shoulder blades. I want to indulge my self-pity, to think things like, This is where I belong.
Caddy has ignored all of my attempts to call or message her. I have a friend request from Tess on Facebook. Rosie has been absent from WhatsApp all day; no blue ticks, no nothing. I can’t blame her. After Matt left, I messaged Kel: Don’t hate me. He hasn’t replied, either. It’s too late to go and see Dilys, and I can’t face the idea of trying to explain any of this to Sarah.
So I stay lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. My phone is balanced on my chest and I’m wearing the Beats headphones Brian got me for Christmas. Radical Face is filling my head like my own personal soundtrack. It’s a good choice for my mood; sombre, mellow, but oddly uplifting. I know how easily I could spin myself into a spiral of depression right now; how much I deserve to go into a depressive spiral right now. The music is keeping me afloat.
My phone beeps through my headphones and I jolt upright, reaching for it. I’m not sure who I’m expecting – or who I want it to be, even – but it’s Rosie, saying, simply, Dinner?
I reply, Yes please.
We arrange
to meet at a burger place in the city centre at eight, but I get there fifteen minutes early. I’m jittery and wired, leaning against a bollard while I wait for her and Jade, smoking two roll-ups in a row. When they arrive, it’s all I can do not to launch myself at Rosie and cling to her, wailing, Do you still like me?
‘Hey,’ I say.
‘Hey, smokey,’ she replies. She’s smiling but holding herself slightly back from me, hands in her jacket pockets. ‘Thought you’d quit?’
I shrug, smiling back, trying not to show how anxious I am. I want to say something cool and ironic about being an unsocial smoker, but I can’t think of the right thing.
She tilts her head a little, eyes scanning my face. ‘You OK?’
‘Bit of a day,’ I say. ‘I’ve kind of lost all my friends.’
‘Clearly not,’ Rosie says flatly. ‘As demonstrated by my presence. Anything else you want to be dramatic about?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But let’s get food first. Hi, Jade. Sorry.’
Jade is hanging back, waiting. When I say this, she smiles. ‘No worries.’
I wait until we’ve found a table, ordered our food and got our drinks before I say, ‘Matt told me he loves me.’
Rosie chokes on her Coke. Her eyes fly to my face as she reaches for a napkin, spluttering.
‘And that he wants to be my boyfriend,’ I add.
Her whole face scrunches into an anticipatory wince.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘Make my day,’ she says. ‘Tell me you told him you love him too and now you’re a couple.’
‘Not quite.’
‘Oh God. Were you at least gentle with him?’
‘No,’ I say.
Rosie looks at me for one long moment, then drops her head on to the table with a clunk. Just lets it fall to the table; an actual head-desk.
‘God,’ she groans, voice muffled. ‘You are so fucked up, I don’t know how you even function.’
Jade raises her eyebrows at this, which makes me wonder if Rosie’s different at university than she is at home. Less blunt, maybe. But this is what I love most about Rosie; how straight she is with me. It means I can trust her completely, because I know she’ll tell me the truth, even if other people would worry that I wouldn’t want to hear it. Plus, it means when she says something nice, it’s worth double.