Diary of a Crush: Kiss and Make Up

by Sarra Manning

  It was a pretty good way to end my birthday actually.

  26th March

  I went out with Dylan last night. Because I am the most stupid girl in the world. I’m like Dylan’s personal, Edie-shaped doormat. He just phoned up and asked me out as if we’d never split up and Veronique didn’t exist and I said yes.

  He picked me up in his car and as soon as I got in, he grabbed me and kissed the hell out of me before driving to an old man’s pub on the edge of Withington.

  ‘So I guess you’re still seeing Veronique then?’ I asked in the middle of some really intense hand-holding. It involved lots of squeezing and stroking and even a bit of nibbling.

  Dylan pulled a face. ‘Why have I taken you so far out of town, you mean?’

  ‘Have you even thought about chucking her?’ I asked, my voice going all wobbly.

  ‘It’s complicated. She gets hysterical and Carter…’

  ‘What about Carter?’

  ‘Do you really like him?’ Dylan demanded. ‘’Cause he just sees you as a challenge, that’s all.’

  ‘Don’t, Dylan,’ I said. ‘You know I wouldn’t be here with you if I was interested in him.’

  Dylan opened his mouth like he was about to disagree with me but I pulled his arms around me and made him kiss me until neither of us could think straight.

  1st April

  I think April Fools’ Day should be re-branded as National Edie Day. I ended up getting off with Dylan last night in his car in a dark corner of Morrisons car park. I’m like the Queen of Skanktown, population: 1.

  5th April

  I’ve decided that I miss being, well, girly. I never get to share my nail varnish and ogle slinky actor boys and do girl stuff any more.

  So I’ve decided to have a sleepover. Even though I’m eighteen and should be beyond all that.

  11th April

  My sleepover was very odd. Shona obviously wanted to be somewhere else and after making a few pointed remarks about love triangles, she disappeared. Atsuko, Poppy and Darby lounged on my bed and watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s while Poppy’s little sister Grace didn’t say anything to anyone but tried on, like, all my clothes. Gossiping about boys was hard, too. ‘I’m sneaking around with my ex-boyfriend but sometimes think I have an inexplicable crush on his girlfriend’s brother,’ wouldn’t have gone down too well.

  The doorbell rang. ‘Maybe Shona’s come back,’ I said, ignoring Poppy’s sarcastic, ‘Oh goody.’ As I started down the stairs. I could hear Carter asking The Mothership if I was in. I raced to the door.

  ‘It’s OK, I’m here,’ I squealed.

  ‘Edith! I thought it was girls only…’

  I glared at her. ‘Just go away!’ I carried on glaring till she took the hint.

  Carter was leaning against the porch door, smirking. ‘Edith?’ he enquired silkily. ‘Sorry to interrupt your little tea party.’

  I was horribly aware of my tartan pyjama bottoms and Miffy T-shirt.

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked sulkily.

  ‘I heard on the vine that you were seeing Dylan again—’

  ‘No I’m not,’ I interrupted angrily. ‘Who told you that? That’s rubbish.’

  Carter straightened up from his slouching position. ‘Good. ’Cause I thought we should have another stab at it. Y’know go out somewhere, if you want to.’

  I looked at him. He gave me a wicked grin that transformed his normally sulky face into something quite alluring and I could feel my heart start to pound. What was wrong with me?

  ‘’Kay.’ I shrugged, as though I didn’t really care.

  Carter moved with devastating speed to press me up against the wall, cup my face in his hands and kiss the stuffing right out of me. There was definite tongue action, which was new territory for us.

  ‘That should keep you going till next time,’ he told me when we finally came up for air. He opened the door. ‘Oh yeah and Edie, you don’t need to lie to me, you just need to stop seeing Dylan. I’ll be in touch about that date.’

  ‘But I haven’t…’ I started but Carter had already left.

  15th April

  I’ve decided to stop all the boy angst. Instead I’m going to concentrate on A-level angst. Serious A-level angst. They’re, like, weeks away. And I’ve been so busy sneaking around with Dylan and having bad, wrong thoughts about Carter, that I’ve done no revision.

  I texted them both. In fact, I sent them the same message because occasionally I can be quite evil, when there’s no-one around to realise. ‘I’m going into hibernation to do A-level cramming until June 11. Don’t even think about contacting me until then. Love Edie xxx’ I don’t believe in text speak – I think it’s lazy and anyway I’ve been trying to study the finer points of English grammar all morning and I think it’s starting to stick.

  29th April

  I’m trying hard to do some serious studying. It should be easy. I’m meant to be thinking about Shakespeare and memorising Psychology but all I can do is think about kissing Carter and kissing Dylan and worry that I’m turning into some boy-crazed harpy.

  23rd May

  Am in exam hell. Fact. Way too hideous to go into here but I did get one of Dylan’s home-made cards today with a picture of the top of my head poking over a mound of books and papers. He wished me luck and although he didn’t mention the other ‘L’ word anywhere he put kisses after his name. That has to mean something.

  27th May

  Was actually pleased to go into work today. It’s the only social life I have at the moment. Poppy reckons that we should start a band after my exams are over. Ever since she found my old acoustic guitar under my bed at the sleepover she’s been banging on about it. Even when I told her that I only managed, like, five lessons and then gave up, it didn’t stop her from rehearsing her acceptance speech for when we win our first Brit award.

  And did I mention that I think her psycho little sister Grace is stalking me? Every time I turn my head she seems to be there. Maybe she’s working up to actually saying hello.

  11th June

  Had my last exam this morning. It was History and I think I did OK. Thank the Lord that my reckless decision to concentrate most of my revision energy on the Russian Revolution paid off. But as I was coming out of college who should be waiting for me but Carter, propped against the bonnet of his car, sunglasses on, smirk firmly attached to his face as I goggled at him. I was glad that I’d tried to make an effort for my last exam and was wearing my daisy-sprigged vintage dress.

  Carter took my bag from me and slung it on the back seat and told me to get in.

  We didn’t speak until I realised that he wasn’t taking me home.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I demanded.

  He gave me an amused look. ‘On that date. I’ve been very patient waiting for you to finish your further education.’

  ‘Well you could have called,’ I muttered. ‘Though I probably wouldn’t have answered the phone.’

  ‘Yeah, I could have…’ he agreed and then he asked me how the exams had gone. We drove out to the countryside with sheeps and cows and stuff. Although he was being very obnoxious (even for him and that was saying something), Carter had got it together to make a picnic or, to be more exact, bought some crisps and biscuits and a bottle of wine. We sprawled out next to a stream and after I’d drunk some of the wine it seemed natural to curl up in his arms and doze off. I woke up when he started to kiss me. They were soft, languid kisses and although I could tell that he wanted more he didn’t protest when I sat up and began to re-button my cardie.

  He lay stretched out on the grass, the sun glinting on his blond hair, and I had to ruin everything by saying, ‘So are we going out with each other?’

  Carter casually waved one of his hands in the air. ‘Let’s keep it loose, honey,’ he drawled. ‘It ruins things when you have to put a name on them. Now come back here and give me a kiss.’

  And when I wouldn’t he said in a cold voice, ‘It’s not like you have Dylan any more. He’s
back with my sister but you’ll find out about that.’

  Then I got in a huff and made him get up and drive me home and I refused to speak to him. Sometimes I hate him so much. He can make everything go dark in, like, an instant.

  13th June

  Today was freaky with added bits of freakiness. Dylan and Veronique came round to see me at work and I had to stand outside on the street and have this, well, ‘conversation’ with them. Though I’m so using sarcastic quote marks.

  I didn’t even realise she was there. I looked up from the coffee machine to see Dylan walking towards me and giving me what I thought was a fiercely possessive look and my insides melted. Carter had just been bullshitting me and it was going to be all right because Dylan still fancied me. So, I hadn’t seen him for two months? So what? Nothing had changed. Then I realised that Veronique was right behind him. And my insides stopped melting and hardened into this big, heavy ball that bounced around inside of me until I thought I was going to throw up.

  Veronique did all the talking. Seems like Carter was right, they are back with a bang.

  ‘And you thought I’d want to know because…?’ I asked her.

  ‘Because you were the reason we almost split up in the first place,’ she replied sweetly. ‘I know how you came onto him a few weeks ago. I know all about it, we don’t have any secrets, do we Dylan?’

  I waited for Dylan to tell her that he’d had something to do with that but he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t want to get involved.

  ‘I’m not going to buy any of this crap about you and Dylan being friends. It’s simple – if you try and break us up again, you’re gonna have a really difficult summer,’ Veronique continued. ‘No Shona, no Paul, no Carter.’

  I felt icy fingers clutch round my heart. ‘You going to run me out of town, are you?’ I managed to spit out.

  Veronique’s eyes flashed at me. ‘I’m not messing Edie. I’m deadly serious.’

  I looked to Dylan for support. ‘There was never really anything between us,’ he said quietly as if he was trying to believe it himself.

  I tried to say something with my eyes. To convince him to tell her that they were over. To admit that he loved me, but he just wasn’t tuning into my brainwaves.

  ‘Do we have a deal?’ Veronique asked.

  I had nowhere left to run. I nodded my agreement.

  16th June

  Got this email from Dylan late last night:

  To: cutiesnowgirl@hotmail.com

  From: artboy@hotmail.com

  I’m sorry.

  D.

  Well, I guess that’s that then. I think he just broke the string on that yoyo of mine.

  17th June

  I’m going to work full-time at the café over the summer while I try to figure out what I’m doing with my life and wait for the no doubt disastrous A-level results to come out. I deferred entry on my UCAS form but I need a ridiculous number of points to get onto the course I want to do (French and Art History at University College London). So after summer’s over, I’ll probably have to do re-takes and then I can spend the rest of the year… I don’t know, doing some crappy McJob and maybe saving up enough to go travelling. Nat muttered something about us going to South America for a few months but we’re both a pair of princesses who could never stay in anything below a three-star hotel, so we’d probably have to save up a ton of cash.

  I think it would be a good idea to try and heal my broken heart before September. I’ve tried to be good and restrained and not just blah blah blah on about Dylan here but all I can do is go over stuff in my head when I should be sleeping. He’s an emotional cripple. That’s what glamorous Auntie Gloria would call him anyway.

  21st June

  I started full-time at the café yesterday so I get to muck around all afternoon with Poppy when she comes in to cover the lunchtime shift. I think she might be my new best friend. She’s wicked cool and funny but there’s something a little… detached about her. She always holds a little bit of herself back, which actually isn’t a bad idea. And she’s become obsessed with the idea of us starting a band.

  She’s been playing with boys (you know what I mean!) but she reckons they’re all ‘Sexist, talentless dweebs who think a girl’s breasts get in the way of playing a guitar’. Maybe I can spend my gap year training to be a rock star? Or maybe not. Wouldn’t go down well with the parents.

  I suppose the really big news is that they’re vacating the premises for two months. Dad’s taking a sabbatical, though I call it being lazy, and they’re going on a second honeymoon to Florida and taking a cruise. The weird thing is that they’re quite happy to bugger off and leave me without a responsible adult around.

  ‘You’re meant to be a responsible adult,’ Dad said drily when I pointed that out but Mum’s already bought eight weeks’ worth of ready-meals from Marks & Spencer’s so she can be sure I won’t live on fish fingers until they come back. The fact that making everything from all day breakfasts to oatmeal muffins is actually in my job description at the café has completely passed her by.

  25th June

  I got home after spending the day cleaning the café’s hot plate to find Carter, the amazing vanishing boy, knee-to-knee with The Mothership over tea and scones.

  When two different parts of your life collide and they’re both giving you disapproving looks ’cause you’re covered in griddle grease you find yourself wishing you had an elsewhere to be.

  ‘Hard day at the office?’ Carter grinned while my mum acted as if she was about to make me strip off there and then, like I was a messy toddler. I wouldn’t put anything past her.

  When I reappeared after scrubbing and changing, Carter jumped to his feet, he’d obviously reached Mother overload.

  ‘Jake’s going to take you to the cinema, isn’t that nice?’ she beamed at me.

  I raised my eyebrows at Carter who threw me a challenging look. ‘Well, it would have been nice if Jake had bothered to phone first,’ I muttered.

  ‘I thought we’d go and see a screening of Lost In Translation at the rep,’ Carter said to me as he opened the car door for me. ‘It seemed appropriate somehow.’

  Of course, before the trailers even started Carter had his mouth locked onto mine and there it stayed for the next two hours. Then when we got outside he told me Veronique had invited us to dinner next Saturday before putting me in a taxi. Which is so many different levels of wrong that I can’t even begin to go there.

  30th June

  I’m now lead guitarist of Poppy’s all-girl band, Mellowstar while Atsuko and Darby from college are on drums and bass. They can’t actually play but Poppy (who scares me with her ability to tune out anyone or anything that doesn’t fit in with her musical masterplan) reckons that’s a good thing as they haven’t had time to develop any bad habits. And she thinks I’m a natural ’cause I can play the beginning of ‘Super Bass’ on my guitar. I’m so not.

  1st July

  Carter’s just been on the phone to sort out our dinner date for tomorrow. I’d thought that the whole ‘Veronique wants us to come for dinner’ was one of his sick little jokes and I hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. Turns out it was Veronique’s sick little joke and he was really insistent that I come. Like, we were dating or something and I was being a bitch because I didn’t want to go round to his sister’s. I wouldn’t put it past her to lace my pasta with rat poison.

  So I’m going. And it’s not because Dylan will be there. I haven’t written about him for twelve days, which only proves that my string is still well and truly snapped.

  2nd July

  Veronique’s just had me for dinner, literally. When me and Carter got to her flat, Dylan nodded briefly in my direction once and then promptly ignored me. I ignored him back. With knobs on.

  I gave Veronique the bottle of white wine I’d brought. ‘I only drink red wine,’ she said sweetly. ‘But I guess I could use this for cooking.’

  And although I’d phoned Car
ter to make sure she knew I didn’t do green stuff, she’d made this hideous mung bean bake with salad. I tried to force it down by swallowing each mouthful with lots of water and a bit of dry heaving.

  Then Carter and Dylan started arguing about British Art and Veronique kept saying stuff like, ‘But I think that Tracey Emin provides a very powerful female presence.’ The three of them acted like I wasn’t there. They were being so pretentious and up themselves that I drifted off until I realised they were all staring at me.