Truly Madly Awkward

by Beth Garrod

It was all SO confusing. Was I just someone he saw as a friend? Someone to talk about GoT with (he did really like my Jon Snow impression)? Or could he possibly, maybe, ever think of me as something more?! If only people held up scorecards like in Strictly Come Dancing, so you didn’t think that you’d been funny in an endearing way, only to discover you’d been funny in a “they double-checked the location of the emergency exit” way.

  I figured it must be a good sign that we were so caught up eating that neither of us realized we’d missed the start of the film. (I chose to ignore the alternative that it was just a sign we’re both as equally disorganized/obsessed with pudding.)

  We headed to the cinema regardless. Adam bought some popcorn (he agreed with my “separate stomachs for foods you like” theory) for us to eat outside. Three times we went for the popcorn at the same time, resulting in full-on hand clashing (the snacking version of hand holding?!).

  Adam held up a piece of popcorn like he was about to say something very profound.

  “You know the best bit of any film?”

  Eating a family-sized bag of Revels in the dark, so no one could judge me on nibbling the chocolate off the raisins (eurgh raisins!), or ask to share?

  Or not. I went for something safer.

  “When people in the audience say ‘shush’ like it’s a real word?” Always a highlight for me and Tegan.”

  “Nope. The trailers.”

  “SHUSH YOURSELF.” In NO WORLD were trailers better than toffee Revels. Not even if they were a trailer for toffee Revels.

  “SHUSH YOU. Like who are these people that do the voice-overs? Is that how they order a chip butty?” He cleared his throat even though it didn’t need clearing, and looked around till he spotted something.

  “One woman.”

  YES. HE WENT THERE. HE WAS MOVIE-VOICING. I shook my head as if embarrassed (but actually was shaking my brain to keep its calm at yet another Adam-sexy thing being unleashed on us).

  “One absurdly loud wheelie suitcase. One small cup of coffee. She’s ready to take on the world. But first… Her biggest obstacle yet…” Dramatic pause. “A revolving door?!”

  I laughed. Then laughed even more as the lady’s suitcase got fully stuck and the whole thing squeaked to a halt. Then quickly stopped as she turned round and shot us evils.

  My turn. I cleared my throat, looked around for inspo, and took a deep breath. All eyes on me.

  “Thuuurghs.” OH MY GOD MY THROAT CLEARING HAD GIVEN ME A WEIRD THROAT AIR BUBBLE AND I SOUNDED LIKE AN ALIEN IN A BATH. Quick. All eyes OFF me. I pointed back at the woman still stuck in the door, tried to fashion my gurgle into an extra-late-incoming laugh, and emergency swallowed.

  “Er, yes. THIS Autumn. A nightmare is coming to town. Everyone must face it. But only a few will come out alive. Meet … DRAMATIC PAUSE … the new dentist.”

  Adam nose-laughed.

  “Some people might say it’s more dramatic when you leave a dramatic pause, rather than say it?”

  Fake outrage (foutrage) face. “Obviously I’m not one of them.”

  I unleashed the full force of my party trick (not saying the alphabet backwards, as I didn’t think backwards alphabeticalizing/gnizilacitebahpla was approps right now) – on-demand raising and wiggling of any eyebrow (well, any of the two I have, not anyone else’s).

  Adam held up his hands as if he was witnessing a miracle (EYES/BRAIN, don’t get distracted by the revelation his forearms look even nicer vertical). “Woah, you never told me your eyebrows had been trained by Ashley Banjo?”

  I gave a big double-eyebrow wiggle. “That was them bowing, FYI.”

  He laughed. Was it becoming a regular thing? I liked it. Maybe I was better at this “normal interaction” business than I thought? I suddenly felt all warm and glowy.

  “So, where shall we go next? We could walk down to the river?” I sneaked a look at my watch. “Last bus isn’t for an hour and a half – I could show you the swan that looks like Clare Balding?” His laugh gave me an extra bravery spurt. Maybe I could suss out if a potential date three was on the cards. “Or … we could save that for the next date? Go full-on animals-who-look-like-celebs spotting at that creepy farm place with the mini steam train that always breaks down?”

  OH.

  As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. It wasn’t my imagination – Adam’s smile had totally vanished.

  “I’m…” He was stuttering, looking all kinds of awkward. “I can’t, actually. And I, er, I’m going to have to head.”

  Well, hello, exact opposite of what I hoped would happen.

  Was it cos I’d used the word “date”? Oh man – what if he hadn’t even thought this was a date?!

  My insides chucked out warm and glowy and replaced them with cold and anxious. How could I have been so stupid?

  I tried to muster the most upbeat “sure” I could.

  How could a couple of words make you feel the same queasy that eating dog ice cream did? We headed to the bus station, both trying to avoid talking about what I’d just said. Annoyingly we arrived at the exact same time as our bus, meaning another twenty minutes of potential Adam time got snatched away.

  Not letting him see how gutted I was, I sat down first. I felt a little bit better when he chose to sit beside me. And even better-er when just as the doors closed, his massive smile returned.

  “All right, mate!”

  Oh. Be gone, better feeling. It wasn’t anything to do with me. Someone I didn’t know, who didn’t seem to understand the importance of these final seconds of 73% of my side body being in contact with Adam’s side body, sat down in front of us. Adam leaned forward to do that one-arm boy-hug-pat.

  “Mate!”

  “Maaate,” the Adam-stealer replied.

  They smiled at each other as if they’d now covered all important convo.

  Adam gestured at his friend. “I haven’t seen Nate in ages. He’s been away for the whole summer!”

  Nate looked towards me with a knowing smile. “And who’s this?”

  I waved. “I’m Bella.”

  Nate looked back at Adam. “Aaaaand?”

  And what?

  But from the way Nate was grinning, I knew he was asking what significance I had to Adam.

  PLEASE, NO.

  Nate, why would you do this to me?! We go way back! (Eight whole seconds.) Plus, if anyone needs the answer to this question, it’s ME!

  “Annnd…” Oh man, Adam was going to give an actual answer! “She’s the one I told you about … in the Helicans competition.” Yes! Adam had batted Nate away. And, even bigger yes! He’d been talking about me?! “… and probably the only friend I’d be happy adding to our Game of Thrones group.”

  Bam. Right between the ears.

  FRIEND.

  There it was. It had happened. Now Nate knew. Now I knew.

  Friend. I was Adam’s friend.

  All hopes I had of today being the proper start of Adam and Bella = officially crushed like a bag of Chipsticks at the bottom of my school bag.

  No wonder he’d freaked out at my “date” question. He was probably embarrassed for me. Maybe that’s why now he was all back happy again, chatting with Nate – grateful to be able to clear up my misunderstanding. I tried to muster a semi-smile for Nate, who was now attempting to high-five me about something to do with the winter coming. I swear they shot each other a look at my bad mood. C’mon, Bells. Channel Taylor Swift. Shake it off. Well, at least until you’re off the bus (although I’d never heard that particular lyric).

  “So, this is me.” I rang the bell and forced my best I’m-Not-Totally-Heartbroken-Face.

  “I’ll get off too, walk you home.”

  Adam said GET OFF. Involuntary nostril flare. Nate totally clocked it. Who was this man?! Hope destroyer AND nostril police? But I didn’t want my last impression to be all downbeat and lame.

  “Nah, you stay on with Nate. Catch up on your catching up.”

  “Well…” Adam half-stood up. “Message me wh
en you’re in?”

  My shattered heart broke into even tinier pieces. A tiny bit of me had hoped he was going to come anyway. What is it with mouths and brains playing opposites?

  I walked to the front of the bus, gave them both a big friendly wave, and stepped off. As I watched it pull away, Adam moved to sit beside Nate. Side body contact with a person is obvs NBD to him.

  I splatted the flat of my hand into my forehead and let out a spontaneous, “Bleugh”. What was my problem? Why couldn’t I have not messed this up? Not misread the signs. At least I should have said what a nice time I’d had – checked if he wanted to do anything again as a non-date? Or at least read it off my home screen, where Tegan had typed it out ready for me? WHAT A GRADE-A IDIOT.

  “Talking to yourself?”

  I looked around for the voice (and stopped hitting myself on the head).

  I knew it all too well.

  It belonged to the only boy in the entire world I’d sort-of gone out with. A boy who’d only done it for a dare, and, when I began to suspect that was the case, and suggested we take a break, had dedicated his time to making my life a misery.

  My friends and I called him Puke. Everyone else called him Luke. And to make matters worse he had his arm around what looked like an off-duty Victoria’s Secret model. Well, one in a coat, anyway.

  But if fifteen years of having a big sister had taught me one thing, it was “if you don’t want drama, pretend you can’t hear your sibling”.

  I applied this logic to Puke, and carried on walking.

  “Making out you can’t hear me? Mature.”

  What was even more mature was pretending to want to have a convo with me, just to entertain him and his new girlf. But I wasn’t Siri. I had a choice about whether to reply. I carried on.

  “Keep walking, Blobfish. Maybe you’ll find some friends on the way.”

  He laughed. I knew he’d be nodding to the girl like he’d scored the winning point. EURGH.

  What reason on earth would I have for wanting to stop and be a part of this?

  Although…

  I stopped.

  And became a part of it.

  Deep breath. Game face. Big smile. Great British Fake Off.

  “Sorry, did you say something?” Luke’s smile vanished. I waved at the girl beside him. “I’m Bella. Nice to meet-slash-wave at you from afar.”

  Without returning my smile, she lifted her left hand and dropped it back down. So that’s how moody girls wave.

  “I’m Ska.”

  Ah yes. The disinterest. The superiority. The slightly confusing nickname. The overall annoyingness. She was perfect for Luke.

  He pulled her into him. “She’s a model.”

  I looked at Ska. “Do you model boyfriends who think you can’t speak for yourself?”

  I laughed like it was a playful joke. Luke did not. “She models beachwear, actually. And watches.”

  “And DEFINITELY boys who still think she can’t speak for herself.”

  I flashed a smile on-and-off. Luke clearly wanted to launch off on one at me, but didn’t want to risk his chill around this hottie.

  “Sorry, er, Ska.” I always felt uncomfortable calling people I hardly knew by names meant for people who knew them much better. “He makes it too easy. What do you watch?”

  Her annoyed glare thawed into indifference. Progress.

  “Luke means I model watches. Not I watch models.” Ah, that did make more sense. She leaned a tiny bit away from Luke. “What was your name again?”

  “Bella,” I replied, at the exact moment Luke said, “Blobfish.”

  She ignored him. “Nice to meet you, Bella.”

  Luke dropped his arm from around her. She didn’t even acknowledge it. He really had met his match.

  “And you!” My eyebrows accidentally shot up in surprise at how believable my lie sounded. “But I shall leave you guys to it… Seeya!”

  I smiled and started to walk home, feeling surprisingly happy: yup, even though my ex’s new girlf was a model, I’d been a model citizen. Which was way more important. And that however I felt about Luke, I hadn’t lived up to his guaranteed negative hype in front of her.

  But best of all he’d helped me. Because the next Radio Shire dilemma was going to be about exes, and his attempt to humiliate me had backfired. So with a tiny bit more confidence than I’d had before, I cranked up my headphones, tried to forget what had happened with Adam, and model-strutted to the Helicans (complete with sassy wrist-model wave) all the way home.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  The end of the summer holidays is meant to feel like a wind down. But this final Sunday/pre-Monday felt like the biggest day of the last seven weeks.

  After two nights of replaying my evening with Adam, and the double whammy of the competition tonight/going back to school tomorrow now imminent, I’d come to some big decisions.

  1)I had to do everything I could to win this gig (or I’d be a social outcast for ever).

  2)I had to do everything I could to see Adam again just to check he did only see me as a friend (or I’d socially outcast myself for ever).

  3)I had to reinvent myself for the return to school (because I already am a social outcast there).

  I’d been trying to keep calm about tonight’s Radio Shire competition, but right now social media was a terrifying place. EVERYONE was talking about what was going to happen. Could someone turn the internet off? Just for a bit?

  Tomorrow it would be the same but IRL. The only way I was going to cope with the attention was as Shay suggested – by looking “total fire”. She’d said I needed a “high impact, on-trend” look (clearly forgetting the limitations of a brown uniform and no make-up rule). Together we’d looked through magazines and found the perfect shorter, ombre bob. YAS. I could DO this!

  Or not.

  Cos Mum immediately said she wasn’t paying for a haircut when we had scissors at home (and I still remembered how Jo skipped college for a week when Mum trimmed her fringe).

  On a more positive note, after popping to Tegan’s last night to run through Adam’s Friday weirdness she’d given me back a flicker of hope. Despite having her feet touching her head she managed to remind me that if Mikey had given up at the first friend-word hurdle (wordle) they’d never have got together. She said that if I really liked Adam, I had to hang in there till I knew how he really felt. Cos what if he meant friend for now? I owed it to myself to find out. She’d then played her trump card – saying I owed it to her, cos she didn’t want to have spent all summer listening to every minute detail about him for nothing. She wasn’t complaining – she never did – she was just being extra wise knowing I’d be more likely to do something for her than I would for myself. So I’d promised her I’d suggest one more hanging-out to him (I’d banned the word “date” from all communications. We’d even had to rebrand the fruit to “mutant raisin”).

  But right now I had to defocus on boy/inanimate foodstuff stress, and get back to life stress. The second round of the competition was less than an hour away, and nerves were making me do weird things; for the first time in my life I was running early. Even after Shay had French-plaited my hair, I still had twenty minutes before I needed to set off to Rachel’s. I messaged Jo to see if she was online. Truly desperate times. She’d just got home from work, and was good to go.

  I climbed under my duvet. Everything always felt better in bed.

  Now Jo’s friends were heading back for term, she was loving uni life again. And in between winning her last running meet (she was vibed it meant she’d got a place on some tour) and slug-relocating, she’d spent her time sending me vids of dogs heavy breathing, and generally lifting my spirits. It was weird how much better we got on when we didn’t have to live together (and she wasn’t around to know that I may have accidentally finished her glitter nail varnish).

  ME: What news?

  JO: I officially just attended and survived the greatest house party ever thrown.

 
ME: What was that bang?? OH, JUST THE CLANG OF YOUR HUMBLEBRAG.

  JO: Loser.

  ME: OK. Enough pleasantries.

  JO: You haven’t even said hello?!

  ME: Hello.

  JO: Goodbye.

  ME: Shut up.

  JO: …

  ME: I NEED ADVICE.

  Yup, my decision to deprioritize Adam over-analysis had officially lasted less than two minutes. I really needed to prioritize getting better at prioritizing.

  JO: Has your head finally got stuck up Shay’s

  ME: Not funny.

  JO: Wasn’t joking.

  ME: JEALOUS.

  JO: That she has to live with you? Yeah. Much.

  JO:

  ME: Stop sending vegetables and HELP ME.

  JO:

  ME: Oi. It’s BOT STUFF.

  JO: DO NOT WANT BUM RASH PICS. NOT AGAIN.

  ME: BOY. BOY STUFF.

  JO: Oh.

  ME: I need to ask someone out.

  JO: WHAT?

  ME: Not out out. (It was so much easier to lie over typing) Just out to DO something with me.

  JO: Like what?

  ME: Dunno. Definitely not a Phoenix Dactylifera though.

  There was a pause as Jo googled. It wasn’t my fault she didn’t know the Latin name for the mutant raisin.

  JO: Good to know you’re still weird. So if it’s not a DATE what are you going to do?

  ME: Oi! Do not use that word?!

  JO: It could be a DATE to build a Shay shrine?

  ME: Still not laughing.

  JO: So what’s the prob?

  ME: What do I say?

  JO: Will you go out with me?

  ME: BUT THEN IT SOUNDS LIKE I WANT TO GO OUT OUT WITH HIM.

  JO: You do.

  ME: …

  JO: It’s MIAGTM right?

  Jo had lived through the years of me only knowing Adam as Man I Am Going To Marry. I was more optimistic about our chances in those days. Probs cos he hadn’t met me.

  ME: Yeah. But I don’t think he likes me in THAT way. And I kinda asked once. And he kinda already said no.

  JO: Kinda isn’t definitely. So don’t be a loser. JUST ASK!

  I think I knew that she was going to say that. I think that’s why I asked her.

  JO: I’M GIVING YOU FIVE MINS TO DO IT OR I POST THAT PIC OF YOU WHEN YOU GOT THAT RICE KRISPIE CAKE STUCK ROUND YOUR MOUTH AND PRETENDED YOU WERE A VICTORIAN PAUPER WITH MOUTH SYPHILIS.