I swallow and stare at it.
“Everyone’s favourite salami sausage snack!” Elliot says.
“Oh my god.”
“Would you like it?”
“Where did you get it from? Actually, I don’t care, yes! Please. Yes, I would very much like your Peperami.”
Elliot glances around us furtively, clearly aware that this is contraband and could get us in trouble. He passes it to me, super casual, like it’s just a carrot or celery stick or something. “Quick, though!” he hisses.
I mean, of course I’m quick. No sooner have I peeled open the foil wrapping, than that thing is in my mouth and I’ve basically swallowed it whole, immediately feeling the restorative power of dead flesh. Go ahead, judge me.
“Oh, yes,” I groan. “Thank you, Elliot.” I lick my lips. “Mmmm.”
“OK, cool,” Elliot says. “So, there’s live music on the main stage, like, right now, and since that’s the whole point of being here, do you fancy it? Or, if not, there’s an actual funfair at the far end of the site which looks cool, or there’s a stone painting workshop, and, huh, there’s still the interactive cucumber exhibition, which, I’ll be honest, does intrigue me, and—”
I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Let’s do the music tent,” I say.
He nods, grins, and makes a couple of little pretend jabs at my stomach with his fists. “Yabba dabba doo!”
I smile. “Yabba dabba doo, indeed.”
The area in front of the main stage is rammed, but Elliot and I manage to snake our way into a good spot in the middle. The music is nineties stuff, because that’s basically the main clientele at this festival, but I don’t mind because a lot of the tunes are classics. Currently, some band is doing a cover of “Movin’ On Up” by Primal Scream, and it’s beautifully loud, and I don’t know whether it’s so loud the happy tune is somehow permeating into my very soul, or whether it’s the blissed-up crowd and the infectious contentment of this place, but this warmth floods my body, this relief, this lightness, and I felt it yesterday, and again now, and I think the word might be joy. And I realize that it doesn’t matter if this festival isn’t what I’d been expecting; I’m here with Jack and Elliot, and together, we’ll have the best time because it’s not about the where, it’s about the who, the people you’re with, that’s what matters. I wish Jack was here because I shouldn’t have been grumpy with him, and I want to hug him, celebrate just being here, being us.
Elliot’s right into it, hands in the air, and then the band announce they’re “changing the mood a bit” and start this beautiful version of “Perfect Day” by Lou Reed that genuinely brings a tear to my eye, and Elliot is next to me, and for the first time in a long time, stuff seems possible, and life seems happy, and maybe that’s why I do it, but I touch Elliot’s arm, and he turns to me, and I lean in, and he leans in, and we start kissing.
And we kiss for a fair bit of time.
Then we break off, and I glance over his shoulder, and Jack’s standing there, just staring at us, mouth open, eyes wide, randomly holding ten Curly Wurlys.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JACK
I really don’t mean to stare at Nate and Elliot kissing like some sort of perv, but I can’t tear myself away. It’s like I’m … I’m frozen, I don’t know why, but everything and everyone around me is in slow motion and greyed out, even my heart seems to have stopped, and I swallow as Nate meets my eyes, my stomach hard, and I think it’s best to maybe leave them alone, and I start to back off, except I forgot Leila’s right behind me and I bump into her.
“Whoa!” she shouts. “I lost you for a minute there. All right, boys?”
She’s holding a stack of burger cartons and looks well pleased with herself.
“Hi!” Nate says, cheeks bright red.
Elliot’s looking at the ground.
I flick my eyes to Leila.
“Why’s everyone being weird?” she asks.
We all look at her and shake our heads. “No,” says Nate.
Leila nods. “Okaaaaay. OK, well, surprise!” She hands out the burger cartons. “I bought you all a meat-free burger!”
“Meat-free?” Nate frowns.
Leila nods. “MEAT … free.”
“Right,” Nate says. “So, no meat?”
Leila fixes Nate with a meaningful stare. “We’re at a vegetarian festival, so this is meat, I repeat meat … free.”
Nate looks totally confused.
“It’s meat, Nate, it’s fully real meat, Leila’s just trying to be discreet,” I sigh.
Nate’s eyes light up and he’s got the thing in his mouth in next to no time. I manage a small smile as everyone else tucks in, but I’m feeling less enthusiastic about mine. I’m not hungry for some reason.
“Thanks so much for the MEAT-FREE burger,” Nate says, between mouthfuls.
“Thank Jack,” Leila replies. “His idea.”
Nate raises his eyebrows.
“He told me you’d be beside yourself with the food on offer here, and I had to pop to the nearest town anyway to pick up some more shampoo, so thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
Nate nods at me, which I suppose means “thank you”.
“And this is dessert,” I say, holding up the Curly Wurlys. “Hope it cheers you up a bit?” And I flick my eyes to Elliot because, actually, it seems like Nate has found something to cheer him up now, so perhaps all this wasn’t necessary.
“You’re amazing,” Nate tells me.
“Uh-huh,” I reply. I sigh and look down at the ground.
“Are you OK, Jack?” Leila asks.
I glance back up at her. “Oh … yeah, I’m just… I think maybe I’m tired, that’s all. I might go back to the tent and rest for a bit.” I don’t know why, but I’m not really feeling any of this. I glance at Nate, and he’s staring at me, burger in hand, frozen in mid-chew. I swallow. “Nice?” I ask him.
He nods and starts chewing again.
“Good,” I say. I take my phone out and get Nate, with his cheeks full like a hamster, Elliot and Leila in the frame. I think I’ll sit this one out, but it’s too good not to post and you gotta maintain the illusion on social media. Top street food tonight with the boys. #Vegetarian #caring #loveanimals I caption it, even though some of the hashtags aren’t technically accurate.
The band start playing “Changes” by David Bowie and I feel like the only way the music could be any more of a metaphor would be if the song was “Why Does It Always Rain on Me?” by Travis, except why am I feeling like this and what the hell?
Thankfully, there’s no time for any further analysis of my messed-up head, because Nate suddenly says,
“WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?”
And I follow his horrified stare across the crowds of people to where Mrs Nate is sitting on some guy’s shoulders, waving her arms in the air to this classic Bowie song, with a rainbow flag painted on her cheek and an open can of beer in her hand.
“Jack?” Nate says.
I turn back to him. “That’s your mum.”
“I know it’s my mum, Jack. What have you done?”
I blow out a breath. “What makes you think this has anything to do with—”
“Jack!” he interrupts. “My mother does not simply sit aloft some random dude’s shoulders at a festival without some kind of intervention from a third party. What have you done?”
“OK, so, I may have booked her a session with a yoga guru, but—”
“OK,” Nate says. “Please can you do something? I don’t care what, but this is … you’ve no idea, if this goes viral or something, if Auntie Karen gets to see it, she’ll call social services and have me and Rose taken away, I swear to god.”
“Why would it go viral?” I ask him.
“There are quite a lot of phones being waved about, to be fair,” Leila says.
“See!” Nate says.
“OK! OK, I’ll go and— I’ll…” And I back off, not sure exactly what it is I am going
to do, but kind of thankful for an excuse to leave, and kind of thankful to have something else to think about. Because if you’re not in the middle of it, and you’re not thinking about it, then it’s almost as if it’s not real, not happening, and right now, that’s exactly what I need, because I’m not stupid, I know what the problem is, I just can’t figure out how it’s happened or what I’m supposed to do about it now.
Damn it to hell.
I like Nate.
I like him like him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
NATE
I turn my back on the horror that is my mum off her face and accidentally lock eyes with Elliot, who immediately looks straight down at his burger and continues eating.
Great. He’s feeling awkward. I’ve messed up.
I look at Leila, who gives me a sympathetic smile. “I bumped into your dad and little sister again,” she says. “She’s quite a character!”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, no, what did Rose say? Why are you saying she’s a ‘character’?”
Leila smiles. “She’s convinced you and Jack should be husbands.”
“Oh.”
“She’s asked if I want to be a bridesmaid. Just a regular one – she’s head bridesmaid, apparently.”
“Right. Well. No one’s being a bridesmaid, sorry to disappoint.”
I press my lips firmly together and glance over to where Jack is attempting to get my insane mother’s attention by jumping up in front of her and waving his arms about. Unfortunately, he just looks like all the other revellers around her, so I’m not sure it’s an effective technique.
“He’s certainly a loyal friend,” I hear Leila say.
I turn and see she’s looking at Jack too. She flicks her eyes to mine. “I know,” I smile. I look over at Jack again, who is now having some sort of shouty conversation with my mum. He’s standing on tiptoes, trying to get closer to her so she can hear him, and he’s looking pretty exasperated. It makes me smile. And she’s right. He is loyal. He’s a good friend. I’m happy to have him back.
Leila tugs at my T-shirt. “I haven’t mentioned this to Jack yet, because I thought it might be nice surprise for him, but there’s a YouTuber party thing down in London tomorrow – I could get you guys on the guest list, if you’re gonna be around?”
My eyes widen. My immediate thought is that it sounds scary and will be full of intimidating, popular types, all confident and able to make even a plain white T-shirt look good on them, but I know Jack would love it. I have no idea if Mum will agree to it, although since she appears to have been replaced with some crazed festivalgoer, maybe anything’s possible. “Leila, that’s amazing, thank you!”
Leila smiles. “Be a surprise for him, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I glance at him again, and then back at Leila. “He deserves a surprise.”
“OK,” Leila says. “I’ll message you with the info. I have to go. I’m doing a podcast with one of the organizers – catch up with you later, yeah?”
I nod and smile and she’s off.
Leaving me with Elliot, who is so busy with his burger he still can’t look at me. I need to say something. Maybe I need to apologize, or make it clear the kiss just happened, and it won’t happen again, but it’s all too awkward, so instead I just start flicking through my phone, swiping away at Instagram, because even though I hate that site, it’s still better than talking to Elliot right now.
I freeze when I see it.
The news is out! reads the caption on Dylan’s post. A post with a picture of him and Tariq, proudly showing off the rings on their fingers. So happy right now. Exchanged promise rings with this one today. Best day of our lives and first day of our future.
I shiver as my blood turns to ice. There are assorted hideous hashtags, and then a whacking one thousand likes. And then the comments:
Love wins!
You guys are so cute together!
Babe! Congratulations!
Love wins!
Hot!!!!
Love wins!
When I finally look up, Elliot is just staring at me. “What is it?” he says.
I pass him the phone. He reads, and scrolls, then look back up at me. “Look, you know,” Elliot mutters, “they have their thing, you have yours, and—”
“What thing have I got? Huh?” I ask him, fury suddenly bubbling up inside me. “What have I got?”
Elliot looks stumped.
And I push my way through the crowd, out of there, anywhere, anywhere but here, anywhere away from people, and friends, and exes, and expectations, and hopes and dreams and anywhere except my own head and my messed-up life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
JACK
No way is Mrs Nate coming down from the shoulders of this random bloke. I can’t make out exactly what she’s saying to me, but her session with the yoga guru was apparently “enlightening” and “life-changing” and now here she is, “releasing herself from her shackles”. She tells me to tell Nate to “take a chill pill” and then loses herself in the beat once more, hands in the air, blissed out to Bowie.
There’s nothing else I can do. She must be either drunk or high, which kind of annoys me because we’re the teenagers here, so really that should be our thing, so I push my way back to the lovebirds. When I get there, though, it’s only Elliot.
“Ou est le Nate?” I say.
“I think you need to check Dylan’s Insta,” Elliot says.
So I do, and oh. I’m not hurt. I’m furious. Promise rings? The thing that was my idea at prom? I don’t even care about their undying and eternal love and commitment, it’s just maddening that Dylan doesn’t have an original or creative bone in his body, and now he’s getting all this love and praise for something that I came up with, and which he would never have thought of on his own.
I put my phone away. “Nate’s upset?”
Elliot nods.
I nod back. Chew my lip. Screw it, I’m gonna say it. “So you kissed him, then?” I need to know what the deal is. If they’re getting together, that’s fine, I’m sure I’ll get used to it. Maybe I don’t feel that way about Nate anyway. Not really. Sometimes I’m not sure I know where horny ends and romance begins.
Elliot shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts and kicks the ground with his trainers.
“I mean, maybe you should go and see if he’s OK?” I continue. “If you’re a thing now?”
Elliot’s eyes widen. “Oh, we’re not a thing.”
I nod. “Uh-huh? Just a kiss?”
“Right!”
“No such thing as ‘just a kiss’, Elliot!”
“No, there is!” he protests. “There is with me and Nate, we’ve…” He stops himself.
“You’ve kissed before? In my tree house?”
Elliot’s cheeks flush red and he nods. “How did you know?”
“I mean, I’m not an idiot. It was always either going to be that or a game of Doctors and Nurses, wasn’t it? God, the pair of you are insatiable! Can’t keep your hands off each other!”
“Jack, that’s not true. Sometimes, you just get caught up in the moment. The music … the atmosphere…”
“The smell of freshly cut MDF?”
“Look,” Elliot says, “I can’t explain why we kissed when we were ten, but I also can’t explain my obsession with slime or why stories involving snot or peeing your pants were so damn funny, because I was ten. But right now, we just kissed, but I think it was kind of … as mates?”
Elliot tentatively glances at me, like he knows I’m not going to let him get away with that.
“Ha!” I laugh. A small swell of relief ripples through me, but I know better than to trust it. “Ha ha ha! Oh, excellent! Elliot, fine, OK, more of this later. I’m going to find Nate, and when I do, maybe I’ll just stick my tongue in his mouth, since that’s what all the cool kids are claiming is friendship now?”
Elliot shrugs. “Well, maybe you should,” he mutters.
I stop and stare at him.
He slow
ly lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Oh, come on,” he says. “You and Nate.”
I hold my hands out. “Me and Nate, what?”
“Well, it’s obvious,” Elliot says. “You and Nate. It’s absolutely destined to happen. After all, opposites attract!”
I glare at him. How dare he know things about me that I keep excellently hidden? “That’s only true of magnetic poles, Elliot. Do I look like a magnet?” He opens his mouth to speak but I put a finger to his lips. “The answer is that although, granted, many have described my personality as ‘magnetic’ I am, in fact, not an actual magnet.”
I turn with a flourish and disappear into the heaving crowd. And then I let myself smile. I can’t help being pleased about what Elliot said. It’s always good to get corroboration for your silly lustings. But what the hell is going on with Nate? Happy enough to kiss Elliot, but apparently still devastated over Tariq? There’s one thing to take comfort from, though, I guess: I’m kind of glad someone else’s head seems to be as messed up as mine currently is.
“Knockety-knock-knock!” I say, as I poke my head into our tent.
Nate looks up from where he’s sitting, knees drawn up to his chin, eyes red and puffy.
I shuffle into the tent and pop myself down next to him. “Oh dear,” I say. “Tariq strikes again, huh?”
Nate shakes his head.
“Look,” I continue, “the whole promise rings thing is naff, if you really want my opinion. Admittedly, I thought it was romantic when I tried to give Dylan one at prom, but I’m older now, more mature and sophisticated, and I see it for what it really is.”
Nate sniffs.
“It’ll take time to get over Tariq, and that’s OK, Nate, it’s OK—”
“It’s not about Tariq!” Nate splutters.
“Ohhhhh!” I say. My heart quickens. If it’s not about Tariq, it can only be either Elliot or … well, I doubt it’s me. But now I’m on edge. I should never allow hope to rear its head – that’s how you get hurt. So I do what I do best and deflect by flicking open the complimentary branded fan I picked up from the vegan sausage company on my way here. “Tell Auntie Jack all about it.”
Heartbreak Boys Page 21