“Thanks,” he said.
“No worries.” I glanced at him. I wanted to keep this normal, and not act like this was my first time holding another boy’s hand, although that is in fact what it was. My heart was pounding. Actually pounding. “I, um … I don’t really know many Elton John songs. I’ve heard this one before. And I know that ‘Candle in the Wind’ one—”
“Which we had at Mum’s funeral.”
“Oh, shit, I’m so—”
Ben chuckled.
“Honestly, Ben, I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry. That was completely thoughtless of me.”
“It’s fine.”
“Sometimes my brain just isn’t connected to my mouth.”
He squeezed my hand tighter. “Hey, it’s fine.”
I looked at him, and he was looking right back, deep into my eyes, lips slightly apart.
“One tiramisu, two spoons!” the waitress said, putting the plate down in front of us. We instinctively unclasped our hands, but she saw, and she had a look on her face that said, Oh yes! My job here is done.
“Thanks,” I gasped. “It looks great. I like the sprig of mint, that’s a … nice touch.”
“Enjoy,” she said, giving me a little wink and walking away again.
“Now she thinks we’re a thing,” Ben said, carefully slicing his spoon into the tiramisu.
I focused on scooping up some of the dessert. “Yeah.” I glanced at him. She’s thinking it, I’m hoping it, but where do you stand?
“Good tiramisu,” he said.
“…Very good,” I agreed.
We both got down to the business of eating the dessert, but I was wishing like hell that two boys being affectionate didn’t have to always attract knowing looks and little winks, like it automatically had to be front-page news. And I resented the fact we’d both snatched our hands away, like we’d been caught doing something dirty and wrong, when all it had been was letting someone I cared about know I was there for them. And even if it had been something other than that, I should be able to hold a boy’s hand and not feel guilty about it, or like someone is going to say something nasty. I should be able to.
Later, we stood outside the restaurant, the night air still warm, shifting about on the spot, home being in different directions, but, certainly on my part, and I think maybe on his, not quite wanting to say goodbye yet.
“I had a really nice night,” I said. “Thank you.”
He turned to me. “Yeah. Me too.” And he turned away again, then turned back, sort of restless.
“I guess … tomorrow we’ll crack on with the alien experience?”
Ben nodded.
“Maybe make a start on Eve’s fortune-telling booth.”
He stepped towards me, took my hands and rested his forehead against mine.
I didn’t know what to do.
Did he want to kiss?
His breath, hot on my face.
My heart, somewhere in my throat.
The only sound, for a few moments, our breathing.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” he muttered, breaking off and turning away again.
I stared at him.
He turned back. “Sorry, Alex, I … I think I’m in a weird place tonight.”
I nodded. “It’s fine.”
He nodded back. Swallowed. His eyes, almost pleading for … for what? Forgiveness? For me?
“It’s OK,” I said.
And just as I was starting to dare to think maybe Ben was gay, or maybe he was bi, or maybe he was confused and didn’t know what he was but he liked me and didn’t know how to deal with it, just as I let myself actually go there, probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in the world ran up to us and said, “Ben!”
And he turned to her, and his face broke into this wide, beautiful, loving, mega-dimpled smile, and he said, “Bella?!”
And my stupid make-believe world, that I had no business inventing anyway, just fell apart.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“How come you’re back early?!” Ben said. “I thought it was next week?”
“Ahh, Rachel’s grandad had a heart attack,” Bella said. “I couldn’t let her come back by herself. Plus I wanted to surprise you!”
Ben broke the hug and stepped back from her a bit. “Is he OK?”
“I think it’s touch and go.”
“Poor Rach,” Ben said. “Although it’s really good to see you.” He gave her a smile, one of his ones with extra dimples, then went back in for more hugging. “You should’ve let me know though!” Ben continued, rocking Bella from side to side in the hug.
I stood on the sidelines, kicking the suede high-tops I was wearing especially for our pizza date on the ground, hands in pockets, waiting for Ben and Bella to stop hugging, and trying to look at least semi-happy because I didn’t want to be rude.
The truth was, right at that precise moment, I hated Bella.
But of course it wasn’t her fault. It was all me. I’d misread everything, the signs, or whatever it is that supposedly tells people how other people feel about them.
Plus, she really was real! Ben had never been anything other than totally honest about having a girlfriend. I’d just allowed myself to be persuaded he might not have.
“I would have texted, but I wanted to see that smile when I just appeared out of nowhere,” Bella grinned.
Great. She liked his dimples too. They were my dimples. Now I was sharing them.
“I went to your house and your dad told me you were in town with your mate,” Bella added.
Mate. Bloody mate. Although I don’t know what I was expecting. Ben was hardly going to have told his dad he was going out with his “red-hot gay lover”. I certainly didn’t tell my dad that. In fact, I said I was “meeting a mate”, now I thought of it, even though the knowing look he gave was as if I had said “red-hot gay lover”. So why was I cross that’s also what Ben had probably said?
“Bella, this is Alex!” Ben said, breaking away from the hug and pulling Bella over to me.
“Hey,” I said, attempting a smile and extending my right hand. “Nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” Obviously that wasn’t true, she was a complete enigma, but hey, small talk.
Bella ignored my hand and went right in for a hug. “Likewise! Great to meet at last!”
“Yeah,” I said as she squeezed me tightly. She smelled lovely. Fresh and floral.
Bella stepped back from the hug a bit, but kept her hands on my upper arms, looking into my face. Then she broke into a smile, dropped her arms and said, “How was the pizza, boys?”
“Lovely,” we both said, in unison.
Bella laughed. She had a nice laugh. I was really annoyed that there was literally nothing annoying about her. Most people who came back from “travelling” were usually eminently slap-able. Every year, the kids who’ve gone off for a gap year come back and they’ll have dyed their hair a stupid colour because they’ve “discovered themselves” or be walking barefoot because some yoga guru told them to, and they’ll set up a lifestyle blog and Instagram their new life, decrying material possessions and capitalism, but still uploaded from their iPhone. But Bella didn’t seem to be any of those things.
She was the worst.
There was an awkward silence, which I suddenly realized was probably my cue to wrap things up and leave because … well, it made my throat go tight, but I guessed Ben and Bella probably wanted to be alone.
“So, I’ll probably head home,” I said, doing my absolute best to keep everything normal and light. “Thanks again, Ben. Nice to meet you, Bella. Welcome back.”
Ben put his arm around Bella’s waist. “You sure you don’t want to come back to mine for a bit?”
I looked at them both, smiling at me, so happy. “Aah, no, no, I should … and anyway, you two probably have so much catching up to do, so.”
“Come back for a bit, Alex,” Bella said. “It’d be really nice to get you know you properly.”
I shook my head. “No, I
really—”
“Come on, Alex,” Ben insisted.
“I have schnapps,” Bella smiled. “Butterscotch flavour.”
Man. This was a total nightmare. If I did go round, it would only extend the awkwardness, and we might well have a nice chat for a few minutes, but then they’d just be wondering how long I was going to stay for so they could get round to… I swallowed, because the thought of Ben doing that made me feel sick. And really anxious. My chest was tight, my throat was tight, everything was—
“I feel a bit funny,” I said.
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Are you OK?”
“No, yes, I’ll be fine, I think I just… I should maybe go home and have a lie-down, that’s all.” I sounded so lame. I glanced at Bella. “I nearly drowned the other day.”
“And he knocked himself out the day before that,” Ben added.
“I know, you told me,” Bella said. “Oh, Alex.” She smiled at me and shook her head. “What are you like?”
“Huh,” I said. “Bit unlucky, I suppose.”
She laughed and I honestly thought she was going to ruffle my hair like I was a cute toddler.
“Are you OK getting home?” Ben asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “You two go and…” For a horrible second I came this close to saying “shag” and then couldn’t think of any other words at all to finish the sentence with. “Have fun.” Ben’s eyes widened. “You know, catch up and everything. Together. Talking.”
Bella laughed. “You’re hilarious.”
“Right?!” Ben said.
“Ha!” I said. “Sure, I’m all about the LOLs, that’s … me.”
“All right,” Ben said, giving me a little fist bump on my shoulder. “See you tomorrow then.”
And we did all the goodbye business and off they went. I stood, watching as they walked away, hand in hand, chatting. But this was no more than I deserved. Would I ever learn, or was I doomed to continuously repeat the same basic mistakes, until the end of time?
If you’re into betting, I would put money on the latter.
I lay under my duvet, staring up at my ceiling, doing my absolute best to stop my stupid brain thinking about exactly what Ben and Bella might have been doing right then.
Their lips gently brushing…
Stop it.
Tongues exploring each other’s mouths…
Stop it.
Hot and frantic, and ripping clothes off—
OH GOD, STOP IT!
What did he mean when he was resting his forehead against mine? “Oh God, I’m sorry.” Was it just the case that he was missing his girlfriend, he was feeling horny, and for a split second, just in that moment, he felt like he needed someone, anyone, to be close to?
I closed my eyes. Remembered the feeling of him close. His hot breath. The rise and fall of his chest. Then I imagined what kissing him would be like. Yes, I’m an idiot. But let me tell you, it was wonderful. I imagined him pulling me closer, I imagined no Bella turning up, and I imagined him taking me back home, and our lips brushing, our tongues exploring, shirts off, his fingers sliding down my boxers—
No.
No, no, no. I couldn’t do this to myself.
Goddam it all to hell!
I flung the duvet off, jumped out of bed, darted across the room and tore down my shrine to Netflix’s Soft Boys. “I hate boys!” I screamed, tearing a poster in half. (I know, I know, I’m a monster.) I started hunting for a match, because I just wanted to burn everything down, burn all the boys down, but then my mobile started playing its ringtone, which it never does, because who actually calls you any more, so what the hell was this? I thought about ignoring it and just finishing what I’d started, but it’s kind of distracting, having “Everybody Hurts” by REM playing while you’re trying to violently destroy everything you hold dear to you, so, breathless and angry, I grabbed it, because I was probably just going to silence it anyway, but it was Efia, so now I’m … I’m pretty … well, my finger slipped so I accidentally answered it anyway.
“Hi!” I gasped, the fury still pumping round me.
“Oh god,” she said. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“What are you doing? Actually, you don’t need to say. I’ll call back.”
“No! What?” I sat down on my bed. “I’m just destroying … things.”
Silence.
“I’m sending you a link. Read it and call me straight back,” Efia said, after a pause.
She hung up.
I just stared at my phone, because I had no idea what was going on, and then her text pinged through, with a link to an editorial on the local newspaper’s website:
IS THE WONDER OVER FOR WONDERLAND?
With its glittering lights, jaunty music and the promise of winning one of the many cuddly toys or trinkets on display, Wonderland has been a stalwart of Newsands’ promenade for over three decades. But look beyond the razzmatazz and all that glitters is not gold.
Our undercover journalists paid a recent visit to Wonderland, posing as members of the public, and encountered gangs of youths who hang around the premises, engaged in illegal gambling that the young, inexperienced teenage staff seem powerless to do anything about. More concerning was the blatant drug dealing they observed, particularly when you take into account the young age of the impressionable clientele.
We have passed our concerns to the local police, who have promised to investigate, but it’s time we asked a wider question: what sort of town do we want Newsands to be? Wonderland is a symbol of a bygone era, a near-derelict eyesore on the increasingly smart promenade. And as we all begin to see the positive impact of investment from new businesses, and the influx of house buyers who are keeping the property market buoyant, is it time to say goodbye to the old, and welcome the new?
By the time I’d got to the end of the article, I was shaking, not least because of the photos. There was a picture of some of the troublesome kids, hanging around and giving the finger to the photographer. I remembered it clearly. The two hipsters who came in when I was sorting through the Golden Goose game with Ben, looking like they were having fun and harmlessly – seemingly harmlessly! – Instagramming it. They did this, right under our noses. I felt sick.
I called Efia back. “It’s lies,” I said, when she picked up.
“It’s not though, is it?”
“What?”
“Maggie does let some of the kids play games she shouldn’t, and we all know Drake does ask people if they want to buy weed. It’s not inaccurate, Alex.”
“Well, OK, but it doesn’t say anything about all the good things.”
“That’s not really how newspapers work.”
“Well, newspapers are stupid, then,” I said. “I never thought I’d say it, but this is fake news.”
“Look, I don’t know how Maggie’s gonna take this, but let’s hope she doesn’t call the whole relaunch off.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I dunno, maybe she’ll think there’s been enough attention drawn to us, and want to lie low for a bit,” Efia said. “We might need to convince her it’s still a good idea – that the perfect time to relaunch is when everyone’s eyes are on us anyway.”
“Sure.”
“I tried to call Ben but he wasn’t answering,” she said.
“Oh. He’s with Bella.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bella came back. She’s real. He’s gone home with her.”
“Oh my god,” Efia finally muttered. “What’s she like?”
“Seems nice,” I said. “I mean, she’s actually really nice. She’s a really lovely person. She has nice blonde hair, lovely eyes, I mean, you would describe her as beautiful, for sure, with a very appealing personality.”
Silence from Efia. Then, “Are you OK, Alex?”
“…Yes?” I swallowed and tried to relax my rapidly constricting throat. “I’m OK. I’m fine!”
“Oh. You really do like him.”
I attem
pted a little laugh, like I could just wave this one away. “Yeah, I mean, he’s a friend, so—”
“You like him, like him,” Efia said. “You know what I meant.”
“No! God, no, that’s not true, Efia.”
“I can hear it in your voice, Alex.” She sighed. “And, honestly, I did think there was a chance you two might…”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I really thought you two would be cute together. And my gaydar, it’s normally—”
“It’s fine!” I said, my voice randomly using a whole range of octaves.
“Oh, Alex.” There was a tragic sadness in her tone, a tone that most people tend to use when saying my name. “Still, it’s not necessarily over yet.”
“No, it’s over, Efia. I can’t take much more of this.”
“But I really think—”
“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. If he’s not, or he doesn’t want to, or he’s not ready, it doesn’t make any difference. He’s with Bella. He’s happy to be with her. You should have seen his face when she turned up – it … it’s what ‘love’ looks like.” I sighed. “I’m happy for him. For them. It’s nice, I guess.”
She didn’t say anything.
“We should focus on Wonderland, anyway,” I continued. Having something to take my mind off Ben would definitely be a good thing. “We can’t let those stupid journalists get away with this. I just don’t understand why anyone would have it in for the place.”
“Or, more importantly, who?” Efia asked.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Efia was waiting for me on our bench on the promenade, fifteen minutes before we were due to start work. She had a new hairband, in shades of burnt orange, white and black, and her lips seemed more defined, and were a deeper red than usual. She looked … fresh and perky and together. How did people manage that? Efia raised an eyebrow when she saw what I was wearing, but must have thought better than to say anything right then. Since working practically full-time, I was catastrophically behind on my laundry, although, in honesty, this was less to do with not having the time, and more about wanting to steer clear of Kendra, in case I somehow got the washing machine all wrong again. Anyway, this all meant I was not only running on emergency clothes reserves, but had also failed to wash my uniform polo shirt, so I’d been forced to resort to shorts with a Hawaiian shirt, which I was no way confident enough to pull off. Efia was all sophisticated and coordinated, and I was a mess. A hot mess. It wasn’t ten yet, but it was already baking, and everyone else was taking advantage of that on the beach, with donkey rides in full swing, a load of the sun loungers already taken up, and the water sports guy zipping a load of kids across the water on the back of an inflatable banana, attached to his speedboat.
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