5th November
Dylan is knee-deep in art stuff. His first big college show is coming up and he’s way more interested in his interactive Star Wars sculpture (just don’t ask) than in interacting with me. I had to go to Atsuko’s Bonfire Night shindig with Nat because Dylan was too busy making a huge vat of papier mâché.
Having said that, his flat has become the number one destination for all my friends who are hoping to get a glimpse of Jesse wandering around in his boxer shorts. A sight I’ve been witness to and hmmm, nice, but though I appreciate him on an aesthetic level, nothing compares to Dylan holding my hand as we wait for a bus or the way his face lights up when he sees me.
I even caught Shona ogling Jesse this morning. Her and Paul stumbled downstairs and she sent him out to the corner shop for some milk, by which time Jesse had wandered into the kitchen in a pair of jeans and she just stood there like one o’clock half struck.
But the thing about Jesse is that he’s like this over-exuberant puppy. Even though all the girls they know are panting after him, it would be impossible for the boys to get pissy about it. Half the time Jesse is oblivious, though I don’t understand why – has he never looked at himself in a mirror? – and the rest of the time he’s making rude jokes about how he’s gasping for a shag.
(Though if Poppy ever finds out that I told him about her crush on him, they’ll be finding various parts of my body for months.)
11th November
It was very quiet in the café today. By the time the lunchtime rush was over, the place was deserted. Poppy and I re-filled all the ketchup doodads and were keeping an eye on a bunch of horrid, spotty boys in tracksuits who kept throwing sugar cubes at each other and were so bunking off when Jesse walked in.
‘Hey Edie! How are you doing, sweetheart?’ He came right behind the counter to peck me on the cheek while Poppy stared at him for a second and then turned away and pretended that the specials blackboard was totally rocking her world. It would have been really convincing too if she hadn’t gone bright red.
‘Jesse, you haven’t met my best friend, Poppy, have you?’ I said demurely. ‘The one who’s in the band with me.’
Jesse peered at the back of Poppy’s head, which was practically the same shade of platinum blonde as his. God, they were made for each other! He sidled closer and then stood looking at her.
‘What the hell are you staring at?’ Poppy demanded and my heart sank. Her relationship philosophy could be loosely described as ‘all boys are selfish gits who are good for nothing but a quick fling as long as they pay for dinner first’. There was a bad break-up with this guy she was in a band with before I met her, which she’ll never, ever talk about.
‘You,’ Jesse said jovially, completely not put off by how rude Poppy was acting. ‘Edie said you were cute, but…’
‘Have you been talking about me?’ Ick! She was using her scary serial-killer voice. I hoped that Italian Tony had cleared away all the big knives from the kitchen.
‘I might have mentioned you in passing,’ I said casually and then clocked the young tearaways going for the mayonnaise bowls. ‘Don’t even think about it if you like having kneecaps,’ I shouted at them.
‘Yeah, she said you fancied me,’ Jesse added, not bothering to disguise the way he was looking at Poppy’s boobs.
‘I so did not!’
‘I’m going to kill you!’
‘So, do you wanna go out then?’ Jesse was blithely unaware that I was this close to becoming human remains.
‘Why should I go out with you?’ Poppy asked flatly and I made a mental note to take her to one side and give her a few pointers on how to talk to boys.
Jesse, though, was gazing at her with what seemed to be adoration.
‘Because I have a weakness for really bitchy girls and I’m a fantastic shag,’ he said after a moment’s deliberation.
Poppy then looked in the direction of Jesse’s crotch and raised her eyebrows as if to suggest that she was very sceptical about that claim.
‘OK, you talked me round,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll let you have a couple of hours of my time. Now stop staring at my tits before I clock you one.’
Jesse let out a long breath. ‘You’re like my perfect woman. I’m going to take you out and treat you like a little princess,’ he promised.
And for one moment, Poppy shot him this blinding smile, which I think made Jesse fall in love with her on the spot. Then she screwed up her features into a sour expression again. ‘Edie’s our little princess, there might be copyright problems. Probably best if you treat me like the goddess that I am.’
Jesse doesn’t stand a chance.
15th November
Dylan is still missing in action. He came into the café today and I was just about to go on a break so we could snog or at least have a conversation but he just ruffled my hair and said, ‘Can’t stop, just thought I’d say hi,’ and disappeared, stuffing a cheese roll into his gob en route.
18th November
Poppy has her hot date with Jesse tonight. She was unusually flustered as she discarded one spangly dress and vintage T-shirt after another while Grace and I sat on her bed and said helpful stuff like, ‘It’s a bit low cut for a first date, you should definitely wear it’ and ‘The green one says slutty-but-shy. Not quite sure if you can pull that off, but, hey, Jesse might!’ That was just before she ordered us out with much swearing and threats to dismember our corpses and dump them in the canal.
Jesse has forked out for two tickets to see Bon Iver and then maybe a drink afterwards if Jesse hasn’t contravened any of Poppy’s rules for acceptable first date behaviour. She has a very low tolerance threshold where boys are concerned. Or that’s what she’d like us to believe. Really, she’s so busy being kickass most of the time that it’s hard for her to calm down and take time to get to know people. If we hadn’t started hanging out through work, I wonder if she’d ever have had the patience to see beyond my slightly ditzy (though charming) exterior and become friends with me.
Then Grace and I went to the cinema. I haven’t had a chance to spend much time with her lately but the dormouse attitude seems to be disappearing fast. In fact, I can’t shut her up. And she’s funny! Who knew?
The film we saw was pretty crappy but she spent most of it whispering sarcastic comments in my ear and making me spit out bits of popcorn.
As we were coming out of the multiplex we bumped into this boy I vaguely recognised from Rhythm Records. He came up to us, opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, muttered something that might have been ‘Hello’ at Grace and then tripped over his feet in an effort to get away.
‘What was all that about?’ I asked Grace but she was blushing in exactly the same way that Poppy had when she’d met Jesse, and falling over her own feet.
I nudged her with my arm. ‘He was sort of cute in a tousled, clothes-too-big-for-him way, but we could work on that,’ I said casually. ‘Where do you know him from?’
‘Edie! Stop it!’ Grace yelped and refused to talk to me for at least five minutes.
If I managed to set up both Poppy and Grace in the same month, then my own romance karma levels would go through the roof. Maybe Dylan might actually spend some time in the same room as me. Stranger things have happened.
30th November
Had a big, bad gloom today. Realised that I’ve been staying at Poppy’s for nearly two months and it can’t last forever. So I can either a) move back home with Mum and her variable mood swings b) move in with Dylan, the absentee boyfriend or c) use up all my wages and try to find somewhere to rent.
Talking of Dylan I was just having an extremely sarcastic rant at him inside my head as I locked up the café, when I realised he was standing in the doorway.
‘Hey you,’ he drawled.
‘Sorry, who are you again?’ I hissed, turning my back on him as I fiddled with the keys.
He came up behind me and enveloped me in a big hug. ‘I know, I know,’ he murmured in my ear as he held me tight
so I couldn’t wriggle away from him. ‘I’m a self-obsessed jerk who’s been neglecting his really cool girlfriend. I should be taken out back and horsewhipped.’
‘You’re going to have to do better than that,’ I said grumpily although I was melting at the feel of Dylan’s lean body pressed against me.
‘Well I’ve got chocolate and some arty but romantic DVDs back home,’ Dylan whispered. ‘And best of all, I’m going to spend the next fourteen hours kissing you senseless.’
With some difficulty, I turned round so I could look at him. Dylan arched an eyebrow enquiringly. ‘So am I forgiven?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I mock-sulked, which actually isn’t that different from when I’m really sulking. ‘I’m expecting some major crawling though. And present-buying. You might want to start pricing up tiaras.’
Dylan gave me a slightly evil smile, ‘How about I make it up to you in kind.’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘No, I’d rather have diamonds, I think. I’d get right on that if I were you.’
Dylan pushed me against the wall and placed his arms on either side of my head so I couldn’t escape the wicked glint in his eyes as he took in my completely crap attempts to pretend that I wasn’t about to make a pre-emptive bid on the whole senseless kissing arrangement.
‘How about you use your lips for something other than pouting and I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,’ he purred, before lowering his head.
I’m never going to persuade anyone to buy me a tiara.
9th December
Hey, sweet little diary. Did you miss me? There’s a reason why I haven’t written in ages, apart from the usual work/band/Dylan thing. I’ve been sorting out my big, exciting move! Not back to the folks because it’s just not going to happen. I love them dearly but now I’ve had a taste of freedom it’s too hard to go back to live with a woman who tries to button up my coat every time I leave the house.
I’m moving into my very own place! Kind of. I’m going to be living in the empty flat above the café with Poppy, Shona and Paul, because Shona and Paul are practically living together anyway and she feels the same way about the boys’ bathroom as I do. Anna chucked out her last tenants ’cause they were non-rent paying slackers and is letting us have it cheap because we’re so lovely and she doesn’t want the building empty all night. Though she did make a muttered aside that it would be the only way that she could guarantee me and Poppy actually turn up for work on time. I can’t imagine what she means.
Mum and Dad have been calmer about it than I expected. I have the sneaking suspicion that they actually like having the place to themselves. I think Dad must have told Mum that I’d be going to university in a few months anyway so if I did move back in it would only be delaying the inevitable and then she’d only get upset all over again when I moved out. And this way, they have Anna around to keep an eye on me, which is skewy logic on their part because she’s only around when the café’s open, leaving me to get up to a world of wrong after five o’clock most nights! Whatever. The good thing is they’re paying my rent. It’s a bit like a parentally-sponsored project to see how independent I really am.
D and I talked for two minutes about moving in together but came to the speedy conclusion that he’d kill me for leaving my clothes all over the floor, if I hadn’t already killed him first for being too damn chirpy first thing in the morning.
I think we’re well beyond that first part of going out together where we spent all our time hanging out and holding hands. Now, we both have our own stuff going on but it just makes seeing him even more exciting. If I have to go a couple of days Dylanless, then when we do hook up it’s like falling in love with him all over again. Seeing his face crack into this sunshine smile when he first catches sight of me, and realising that I’d forgotten just how green his eyes are or how I’d never seen him wear that T-shirt before makes me glad that he still has depths I’ve yet to explore.
God, I’m in danger of turning terminally sappy. I need to watch that.
17th December
So somehow I had to fit in working, band rehearsals and moving – hence even more lack of wordage in diary. I think Dylan’s secretly relieved that we’re not shacking up together although his toothbrush has permanent visitation rights, especially after we hauled my many goods and chattels into my little attic room and then had trouble getting the door shut. But it’s going to be all kinds of good when he stays over and we don’t have to worry that Poppy’s mum or one of his flatmates is going to burst in on us doing something they’d rather not know we were doing. Even if it’s only Dylan letting me paint his toenails.
‘Do you think we’re getting boring and coupley?’ I asked him as he hung up my fairy lights and I unpacked my third binbag of clothes.
Dylan threw a balled-up pair of socks at me in protest. ‘I make sculptures out of food and you have a theory about carrier bags being the next dominant species,’ he pointed out with a smirk. ‘I don’t think boring is the right word.’
‘Well not when you put it like that,’ I said, after I’d had a moment to consider it. ‘And we do our own stuff. I just worry that we’re like as dull and middle-age-y as Prince William and Kate Middleton.’
‘Nah! We’re the anti-Wills and Kate,’ Dylan shuddered. He turned to look at the rest of my things waiting to be unpacked. ‘Explain to me again why you have so many dresses?’
19th December
We played our second gig last night at the Christmas party at my old college and got our first groupie – this fifteen-year-old kid from Cheadle Hulme who tried to snog Poppy after buying her a drink.
‘Not while there’s dogs on the pavement,’ she snarled at him before flouncing off to find Jesse. That would be Jesse her new boyfriend, though he’s very much on a thirty-day free trial even if he doesn’t know it. (Our flat is just like the boys’ old flat with Dylan, Paul and Jesse there all the time. It just smells less of boy and more of girl.)
Anyway, the gig: I think we’re not so much about the songs and more about our stage outfits (we wore matching Barbie T-shirts and tutus over our jeans – well, it’s a look) and the between songs banter. I think Poppy wishes it was actually more about the songs but then she’s going to have to get together with people who can actually play their instruments well instead of just about adequately.
After we came off stage, I dragged Grace over to Dylan to explain why it was necessary to have at least thirty vintage dresses when someone caught my eye.
‘Grace!’ I tugged at her arm. ‘It’s that boy! The one from outside the cinema.’
Dylan looked up. ‘Oh that’s Jack. He comes into Rhythm all the time.’
I nudged Dylan. ‘Get him to come over!’
‘Edie!’ Grace said between clenched teeth. ‘Stop it!’
Dylan winked at me and then waved at Jack.
‘He’s coming over,’ I told Grace rather unnecessarily, but the pissy expression on her face was very amusing.
Jack shambled over. He’s quite cute really. He has a thin face with these huge brown eyes and all this floppy blond hair, which he constantly pushes back. ‘Er hi, Grace,’ he said softly.
Grace grunted quietly.
‘I’m Edie,’ I shouted over the music, sticking out my hand so he could shake it. Good firm grip. ‘So where do you know Grace from?’
‘We’re in the same English class,’ Jack mumbled, peering at her from under his eyelashes, then looking away like he’d been caught shoplifting.
I smiled encouragingly. ‘I’m having a house-warming cum Christmas party next week. You should come.’
Dylan shook his head and made the universal sign language for throat slitting at me but I ignored him.
Grace was staring stonily at the wall and Jack was gazing at Grace as if she was a big bar of chocolate suddenly come to life.
‘So this party?’ I prompted. Jack tore his eyes away from Grace.
‘Er yeah, sounds cool,’ he muttered.
‘I’ll giv
e Grace an invite to give to you,’ I promised before following Dylan into the crowd because he was clutching my hand so tightly that if I hadn’t, he’d have had my arm off.
‘Don’t,’ he said sternly, when we got to the bar and he decided that maybe it would be a good idea to stop cutting off my circulation.
‘Don’t what?’ I asked innocently.
‘Don’t meddle.’ He gave me one of his looks. This one is my least favourite because it manages to convey equal parts disapproval and disappointment. ‘What do you want to drink?’
‘Oh, don’t be mad at me and anyway you were happy enough to call him over,’ I fiddled with my fake tiara.
Dylan straightened it for me and ran his fingers through my hair. ‘Just let Grace find her own boyfriend, OK?’
‘But by then she’ll be in her eighties and living on her own with loads of cats,’ I protested.
Diary of a Crush: Sealed With a Kiss Page 5