I knock on the door and am somehow surprised when Cal answers it, still discombobulated from being caught out in my vanity.
‘Hey!’ Cal says, drawing me into a hug on the doorstep. He’s wearing a navy-blue striped apron and holding a big wooden spoon in his hand.
‘I like your new look,’ I say as he leads me into the flat.
‘Ha, thanks,’ he calls over his shoulder, heading back into the kitchen to put down the spoon and detangle himself from the apron. ‘I hope you like spaghetti carbonara,’ he says when he returns to kiss me in the living room.
‘Who doesn’t!’
‘Uh, vegetarians, I guess?’ Cal says good-naturedly, running a hand through his hair which is damp with kitchen sweat. ‘It’s nearly ready!’
His flat is small, but neat and well looked after, with piles of books everywhere and an acoustic guitar in one corner. The sofas are battered but the cushions on them are bright and stylish. My expectations for a home inhabited by three young men were … low, to be honest, but I’m pleasantly surprised.
I follow him into the kitchen which is, again, small, but has a little semicircle-shaped table set for two (you couldn’t fit any more on it anyway) and a low candle burning. I blush, almost embarrassed by the thought of Cal making an effort for me.
‘Well, this is nice …’ I say, sitting at one of the rickety chairs. For a moment I’m convinced I’m going to break it. I don’t break it. I never do break it, but the thought crosses my mind every time.
‘I hope you say that about the pasta too! Sorry it’s not much, I haven’t been home from work that long.’ He casts around distractedly, looking for something, before landing on a pair of tongs that he uses to extract the glistening strands from the pan and set them down onto two waiting plates. It smells amazing.
For someone only a year older than me, he’s very good at, like … living in the world. There’s no way I could be this comfortable living so far away from home, and all on my own. But then again, when I’m with Cal I feel so sure of myself. Maybe Leeds won’t be so bad – if he can do it, why can’t I?
‘You didn’t need to do this, you know,’ I say, when we’ve finished.
‘Yeah, I did. I mean, firstly I needed to eat dinner, and secondly I didn’t want to make you feel like I only wanted you to come over for …’ He trails off. ‘You know.’
‘Oh … that’s OK. I don’t think that.’ He just … likes me. No angle, no ulterior motive. He just likes me.
He stands to put the dishes in the sink. ‘I’ll deal with those later. My housemates are away for the weekend on some camping trip. I told them there was no way I was sleeping in a tent in these temperatures.’
‘Just the thought of it makes me feel sick,’ I say, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. It is the last day of the heatwave, but part of me can’t understand how it’s just going to magically drop ten degrees overnight.
‘Not much of an outdoorsy type?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I say, laughing. ‘My sister Daisy is, though. And my mum, too, actually. She’s kind of adventurous. Not sure what went so wrong with me in the gene pool.’
‘Absolutely nothing went wrong with you,’ he says, before kissing me.
For a moment I feel self-conscious of him touching my body, feeling the sweat through the back of my T-shirt, but I know he’s safe and I know he knows what my body is like. He likes me. And my body is part of that. So I just let it happen and kiss him back. I take hold of the back of his head and feel the silkiness of his hair under my fingers.
Whatever nerves I’d worked up seem to have disappeared. It’s Cal. He’s safe. We work. ‘Do you want to … ?’ I trail off.
We head upstairs. His room doesn’t have much stuff in it, which is unsurprising because he’s on his travels. But like the rest of the house, it’s well looked after.
‘You … have done this before, right?’ I ask him.
‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘Have you?’
‘No … is that a problem?’
‘No, it’s not. It’s just good to know, you know? Do you feel OK about it?’
‘Yeah, I feel fine,’ I say reflexively, which doesn’t accurately convey my enthusiasm. ‘More than fine. I don’t know why I said fine.’
This kind, warm awkwardness continues onto the bed where we mess around, fumble and undress among nervous laughter and gentle encouragements.
And then … it happens. It just happens. I’m expecting it to hurt but it doesn’t, not really. It’s actually … pretty nice? I guess I’ve just heard one too many horror stories from girls in my class about incompetent idiot boys and thought that was the way it had to be. Should I ask Cassie what it was like with Jack? Was she more … into it than I am? And then I wonder if I should be thinking about Cassie at a time like this and force myself to return to the present moment, the one where I’m having sex for the first time.
When it’s over, I lie there, and I feel so exposed. He’s the first person to have seen me naked. To have seen my whole body. All of it. I feel so comfortable with him. But it’s still there, that prickle of doubt.
‘You look serious,’ Cal says, propping himself up on his elbow and surveying me from his side of the bed.
‘It’s just weird, I guess.’
‘What’s weird?’
‘I … can’t really get my head around … this,’ I say, gesturing between us. ‘Like … why do you even like me? It’s not like there aren’t loads of other girls who are interested in you.’ Maybe it’s a bad thing that I feel so comfortable with Cal, because then I feel empowered to ask stupid questions like this.
‘Jesus, Lily, I just like you, you know? It’s not something you can really account for or explain. Sometimes you just see someone and think … Yeah.’ He’s looking at me with an expression of such confusion, like it hadn’t crossed his mind that I would think this about myself. ‘I’m not, like, better than you, you know that, right? You don’t need to be so suspicious of me.’
‘I guess … it’s just weird sometimes, listening to other people.’
‘Other people suck. Especially around here. You’re great. Don’t forget that.’
I sigh. ‘Thank you. Sorry I’m being weird.’
He touches my stomach as I lie there. I don’t flinch or try to move away. I just let his hand rest there, on the soft flesh.
Am I meant to feel different now I’ve had sex? I’m glad I got it out of the way before I go to university, I guess, but also I was never really that worried about it. It was more the whole … naked thing that was freaking me out. And there are way worse people to do it with than Cal. I might not be remotely experienced in that department, but I am sure he wasn’t a bad place to start. It was good, and I feel lucky, even though everyone deserves a first time like that. I want to talk to Cassie about it because I talk to Cassie about everything. Or at least, I used to. There are more and more things that I’m not talking to her about these days.
When I get home, I’m surprised that the lights are on downstairs. I thought everyone would be in bed by now.
Please don’t let it be Daisy. Please don’t let it be Daisy. Please don’t let it be Daisy, I think as I turn my key in the lock. But of course it is. So much for twin telepathy.
‘What have you been up to?’ she asks from the kitchen doorway, holding a glass of water.
‘Nothing. Just at Cal’s,’ I tell her.
She rolls her eyes, turns off the lights and turns to head upstairs.
‘Is this how it’s going to be forever now?’ I ask, impatiently.
‘You say that like it’s my decision. You’re the one who calls the shots around here,’ she says, before walking up the stairs, leaving me standing in the dark hall.
CHAPTER TEN
The next couple of weeks pass in a sun-soaked blur of kissing Cal, hanging out with Cassie and avoiding my sister. Cassie gives me a new thing for the day when she remembers. Some of my favourites include:
Sending food back when it’s not right.
; Going to a jazz, tap and modern fusion dance class with her.
Singing karaoke to a too-big crowd while far too sober.
Watching a Korean horror film with her.
Attempting to bake a caramel soufflé (and then putting out my first fire).
Learning how to distress and embroider my own jeans (badly).
Painting on a new kind of canvas.
Going to a poetry reading in a cafe I assumed I was definitely not cool enough to get into.
Taking a book out from the town library – and actually reading it.
Volunteering for the day at the local elderly community centre.
But I can’t even focus on today’s new thing because I have made a catastrophic mistake. I looked at a calendar. Only twelve days until results day. I kept counting and re-counting the weeks as if they would magically change if I counted them enough times, but they didn’t, and when I turned away from the wall I realized my chest felt tight and I’d dug little crescent moons into the palms of my hands.
Cassie will distract me. I can’t wait to spend some time with her away from the ice-cream stand. My mum offers to give me a lift, but I say no way and tell her to have a chill morning to herself. I pack the huge family picnic blanket and take the bus to Seaforth where I meet Cassie at the bus stop, who instantly wraps her arms around me and I breathe her in and everything feels right. I squeeze her back, then it strikes me that maybe I’ve held on a moment too long, so I pull away. I move so fast that neither of us knows where to look. Thankfully, we head for the corner shop to pick up some goodies for our picnic, and things get back to normal.
Despite the (mercifully) slightly grey clouds, it’s still a Saturday and the beach is busy. We walk down the sand, away from Seaforth’s famously loud and colourful pier, to a stretch of sand that’s less densely populated. I spread out the picnic blanket with a flourish. We lower ourselves onto it in as dignified a manner as possible before taking all our delicious purchases out of the paper bag.
We congratulate ourselves on our excellent food choices for this picnic, a perfect array of olives, marinated anchovies, fancy bread, a couple of nice cheeses.
‘Not to forget …’ Cassie says, producing a plastic container from her bag, ‘patties.’
‘OMG, exciting!’
‘They’re not that exciting. Well, I guess my mum made them from scratch so credit where credit’s due.’
‘Exciting for me because I’ve never tried one before.’
‘What?! You’ve never had a Jamaican patty?’
‘I don’t think so …’
‘A perfect new thing of the day!’ Cassie says, handing me one of the pleasingly sunny-yellow patties, dense and satisfying to hold in my hand, with its perfectly-crimped edges.
I take a bite. ‘Perfection.’
‘See what you’ve been missing out on your whole life?’
For dessert, we’ve chosen two swirly buns covered in white icing with a glacé cherry on top, like a glinting jewel.
‘These are so perfect,’ I say between mouthfuls.
‘The concept cannot be improved upon. Can you imagine if they tried to make these fancy? You would totally mess them up.’
‘They are exactly as they should be,’ I nod, sagely.
‘I saw on Instagram earlier that Will and Clem from art are interrailing around Europe this summer. They’re in Italy now and I think they just came from Greece, but you know what? I’m not even jealous!’
‘You really mean that you’d rather work on the ice-cream stand and eat cheese on a cloudy beach with me than travel around Italy?’ I say, fixing her with my most sceptical look.
‘No obviously I would rather be messing around in the sunshine,’ she replies, like I’m the stupidest person in the world. ‘But what I mean is, like, given I am not at liberty to travel and spend extravagantly, hanging out with you all summer is not so bad. I’m not, like, mad about it, you know? I’m content as is – much like this excellent bun.’
I smile. It feels good to play a part in her summer.
‘I know you’ve had the stuff with Daisy, but this summer’s been kind of fun, too, right?’
‘Yeah!’ I say, gamely.
‘I mean, you’ve really thrown yourself into this whole relationship thing with Cal!’ Cassie says. She almost sounds impressed. ‘Not usually something in the Lily Rose Comfort Zone!’
‘Oh … I mean … I guess?’ I furrow my brow instinctively. ‘Haven’t you with Jack?’
Cassie laughs. ‘No, not really! It was sort of a one-time thing. Or maybe a two-time thing. I mean, we went out a couple of times and it was fine, but it’s not like we had a connection or chemistry or anything. Not like you and Cal.’
I feel a little bit strange with this new information. I had assumed that Cassie and Jack were still merrily seeing each other and I just hadn’t wanted to ask too much about it.
‘Oh … yeah, I guess I am,’ I say. Even though I don’t really know how I feel about the whole situation, I do feel very protective of Cal, who is indisputably wonderful and who I am lucky to know, let alone date. ‘It seems to be going well.’
‘I guess I thought Cal would have mentioned that we fizzled out, seeing as he sees Jack pretty constantly!’
‘Yeah, he’s not … gossipy, like that, I guess?’
‘Well, you two have probably got better things to talk about. Speaking of which: you’ve slept together now, right?’ Cassie asks. I nod, wordlessly, hoping that’s enough. ‘How was it?’
‘Yeah, it wasn’t, like, bad or anything.’
‘But … was it good?’
‘Yes!’ I say, defensively, as if it’s ridiculous for her to even ask. ‘It was really good. Cal’s … talented,’ I say. As an uncomfortable expression instantly clouds Cassie’s face, I’m hit with the horrible realization that I’m trying to make her jealous. What the hell?!
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that,’ she says, looking out to the sea. She doesn’t ask anything more about it, which I’m relieved about. ‘Oh!’ Cassie rummages in her bag and produces a brightly coloured card from between the pages of her book. ‘You said it was Michael and Mark’s anniversary, so I whipped up this little card.’
‘They’ll be delighted! You’re too cute, honestly. Thanks, Cassie.’
Cassie pauses for a second, opens her mouth, closes it again. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ she asks, finally. ‘Like, in general?’
‘Yeah, why?’ I ask too quickly. ‘Feeling OK about what?’
‘Um … I don’t know, really. I just thought maybe you seemed stressed about something, or distracted, I guess. Like beyond what’s going on with Daisy. Like … if I was gonna draw you right now I would draw you with this little swarm of bees buzzing around your head.’ When I don’t answer, she continues, ‘You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t be very good at all this if I didn’t notice when you seem different. When you seem kind of unhappy.’
I swallow down all the things that are still too confusing and difficult to even begin to unpick. I think about telling her the real story with Daisy, the fact that I kept the whole Cal thing from her, but I realize I don’t like talking to Cassie about Cal. I want to keep them separate. ‘I guess I’m stressed about next year, you know? The unknown.’
‘Will you miss me?’ Cassie asks, playfully.
‘Are you serious?’ I say, taken aback. ‘A lot. An unhealthy amount.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, it’s not like we’re dying.’
‘I know that … it’s just a long way.’
‘And besides, you’re the one who’s leaving. That’s always easier,’ she says, looking down at her manicured hand resting on the picnic blanket.
‘Easier than what?’ I ask.
‘Being the one who stays behind.’ She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t look at me. ‘You’ve got a whole life to build. Mine will look pretty much the same.’
‘You’ll probably go to uni the next year, after you’ve done your art foundation course though, right?
Like that’s why you’re doing it?’
She sighs. ‘Yeah, I know that, but it feels a long way off. I’m kind of jealous of you getting to have an adventure now while I have to wait here for my life to begin. And without you, while you’re having fun and going out with loads of new people in a new place. And forgetting about me …’
I don’t know what to say to her. I want to tell her that going to university feels like a huge mistake, like I’m just not ready for it, like I don’t want to go and leave the only place I’ve ever lived and leave my best friend who I love so much. But I don’t know how to say that without saying it directly, because saying it out loud would mean that I would have to do something about it or act on it and it’s all too far down the road for that now. My only hope is that results day is a massive disaster! But I don’t want her to think that I’m just skipping merrily off into the sunset to start a new life hundreds of miles away with loads of new people and that I’m going to forget about her. I could never, ever forget about her.
‘I don’t think it’ll be that fun,’ I say, quietly.
‘Come on! You don’t need to make me feel better about it! It’s fine, really. I just wanted you to know I’ll really miss you when you’re gone. That’s all,’ she says, but she looks scared, like she knows she came close to unearthing something I didn’t want her to. She looks at me quietly for a moment, as if expecting me to unburden myself to her. But I don’t.
I want to. And not just about university and the future. I want to talk to her about myself. I want to explain myself to her, and show her all the things that I don’t really understand. I want to show her who I am and ask if that’s OK with her. I want to take all the little fragments of my feelings and see if she can help me put them together. I want to be assured of who I am but also feel vulnerable enough to leave room for the nerves and the excitement. And I don’t want to do that with anyone else.
Ever since I met her, everything has felt a bit more right. A bit more like I’m at home. Every time I see her, I want to know when I’m seeing her again. A breeze has started along the beach, whipping the sand up in places, and I turn my head away from her and towards the direction of the wind and let it blow in my face. Because here and now, on this beach, on this Sunday, under this sky, I can finally see it. The truth.
Melt My Heart Page 12