Diary of a Crush: French Kiss (5 page)

‘OK, I’m going to be straight with you,’ he said, trying to cup my chin so I’d look at him, though I pulled away. He gave up in the end. ‘Mia and I got off with each other once and I am attracted to her on one level, but on another level, a much bigger level, she’s a complete ’mare.’

I thought I was going to burst into tears again and I guess Dylan thought I was going to too ’cause he put his arm round me. I rested my head on his shoulder for one millisecond. Then I stopped myself.

‘What about me? Why do you keep kissing me? Why do you keep playing these games with me?’

Dylan’s arm tightened around my waist. ‘’Cause I fancy you too,’ he admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. ‘You can fancy two people at the same time. But I need someone way tougher than you, Edie.’

‘I am tough,’ I protested.

Dylan shook his head. ‘No you’re not. And if we went out, I’d keep hurting you and you’d do that thing with your face that makes me feel all guilty.’

I frowned and he gently cuffed my cheek. ‘There!’ he said with a tiny smile. ‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about.’

We were both speaking English but we weren’t talking the same language. He was telling me all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together and I just wanted him to kiss me.

‘We can be friends,’ he was saying. ‘Really good friends and I’ll sort out this mess with Shona.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ I muttered, trying to disentangle myself from his arms. If he didn’t want to date me then he wasn’t going to get to snuggle.

But Dylan gathered me up in this huge bear hug and
ruffled the top of my hair
! I could have spat nails…

Then Dylan being Dylan, he was gone.

I was still trying to make sense of Dylan’s visit when Shona came calling. There’d been a time when I thought we were going to become best friends or something but the way she just dropped me without even having the decency to tell me why still stung.

I found her sitting on the doorstep after I’d popped out for emergency rations of Maltesers. She was clutching a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough and a mix CD she’d made.

‘I guess you pretty much hate me,’ she said with a wry twist of her mouth and all I could do was half shrug my shoulders.

When we got to my room, she curled up on my giant beanbag and dipped a spoon into the ice cream. ‘I understand if you don’t want to be mates again after the way I’ve treated you but you need to understand why I acted like such a stone-cold bitch,’ she began.

And then she told me all about her and Paul and how they’d spent six months eyeing each other up at clubs and parties before Dylan introduced them and they immediately got together. And that she thought they were crazy in love (‘I would just be dying to see him, just counting out the hours until we’d be together again’) until Mia had come between them. I s’pose I realised that Shona felt the same way about Paul as I do about Dylan but, God, at least she actually got to date Paul.

And then she looked up at me with her huge manga eyes. ‘Sorry?’ she half-asked.

I nodded and it was awkward for, like, one second and then she started crying and I started crying and we both sat there sniffing and clinking spoons as we each tried to bogart the chocolate chips.

I haven’t written for a while but I suppose New Year’s Eve is as good a time as any.

I went to Brighton for a family Christmas and, quite frankly, even my annoying little cousins and Grandma moaning on about her rheumatism was better than being here.

It’s been four weeks and already I can tell that this stupid, poxy ‘friend’ thing with Dylan is never going to work. He’ll call and ask if I want to go to the flicks with Shona and him and I just about
melt
. It hurts too much to be with him and it hurts too much not to be with him. Sometimes life is just so cruel…

I thought him wanting to be friends was just an excuse for him to let me down gently and not have to bother with me any more, but it’s been the opposite. We go out all the time with Shona and Simon and he reckons that friendly (that bloody word again) means an arm round my shoulder and kissing me hello and goodbye. It’s even worse when he phones up. He’ll be talking about his James Bond sculpture (don’t even ask) and I’ll drift off and imagine that he’s saying, ‘Edie, I just want to grab you and kiss you,’ when he’s really saying, ‘Edie, I just want to be the next Picasso.’ Anyway Simon’s having a New Year party tonight and I guess that if I start psyching myself up a few hours beforehand, I might be able to face Dylan without begging him to ravish me.

Spent morning in bed recovering from party. It was ace and completely hideous in equal measure. I’d been looking forward to it because I’m sad enough to treasure every moment I get to share air space with Dylan. And I wore this really beautiful dress I’d got for Christmas from my auntie who lives in Amsterdam. It’s black lace with a red slip to go under it. Mum said it was too old for me but I wore it with bright red tights and my black Chuck Taylors and she decided that ‘dressed down’ it was acceptable. Though ‘you’d look much nicer if you wore a pair of heels.’ Like, I’d take fashion advice from a woman who only does neutral colours.

Anyway, the party started off fine. It was wall-to-wall art students but then Dylan came over and started talking to me. He was wearing a black shirt with the word ‘Trash’ scrawled on it and we talked about Christmas. Well, he talked about Christmas, I was being frothy and amusing about the green triangles in a tin of Quality Street, which was actually a metaphor for how much I loved him. Not surprisingly, he didn’t get it.

Then the whole night went downhill like a bus with faulty brakes. Paul and Mia showed up as an ‘official’ couple and Shona disappeared off the face of the earth. I found her half an hour later in one of the bedrooms in tears and in Dylan’s arms. I stood there trying not to think evil thoughts. I know she was upset but did she have to have one hand on Dylan’s leg and the other clutching his shoulder?

They looked up and saw me and I was like, ‘Are you OK?’ Then Shona ranted for what seemed like ages about how Mia was a skanky bitch and Paul was just seeing her to mess with Shona’s mind. I was ummming and aaaahing in the right places but I sort of sensed they wanted me to leave them the hell alone.

I hung out with Nat and Trent and one of their mates, Josh. He was really good-looking in a ridiculous, boy-band kinda way. We shimmied around the living room a bit. When I was dancing, I almost forgot about Dylan and Shona, and Mia glaring at me from behind the punchbowl. Almost forgot but didn’t quite succeed.

Then it was practically midnight. Someone let off a bunch of party poppers and the countdown started. Everyone was shouting and screaming like it had never been midnight before. I stood there letting the noise wash all over me when suddenly Dylan was standing in front of me, laughing.

‘You’re not a joiner, are you Edie, hon?’ he teased, before pulling me into his arms to give me a New Year kiss. But somewhere between the pulling and the kissing, our eyes locked and when our lips hit, the kiss knocked me into the middle of last week. I could feel Dylan’s heart pounding, as I managed to summon up enough willpower to push him away.

‘I need some fresh air,’ I gasped, not looking at Dylan as I staggered into the garden.

I didn’t see him after that. Probably because I skulked in the kitchen with Josh and bored him stupid by bleating on about how doomed my love for Dylan was. Gay boys are such good listeners.

Shona and I mooched round the sales. She was still seething about Mia and Paul, but she perked up when I told her about my New Year kiss. (I wasn’t going to say anything, but it just popped out.)

‘Hmmm, he gave me a kiss too but there were no tongues involved,’ Shona said with a grin.

I was just working up to a really crushing retort when we bumped into Josh, who works at The Magic Roundabout, this really cool second-hand clothes shop. He asked me if I wanted to go to the flicks with him tonight. I said OK, ’cause he’s funny and a girl can never have too many friends.

Oh dear. I don’t know how this happened. One minute I was thinking that Josh was gay and I could tell him stuff that I wouldn’t normally tell a boy, the next minute, he’s holding my hand and telling me that he’s seen me around town and fancied me for ages!

Y’know how sometimes, you end up doing things that aren’t actually a good idea, just ’cause you can’t think of a reason not to do them? I snogged Josh and agreed to go on
another
date with him.

Dylan is the heir to my heart; the one boy I will never, ever get enough of, but I have to face facts, it’s just not going to happen. And Josh is really good-looking. God, am I really that shallow? Besides, now that I’ve got a
boyfriend
, I’ll be out of bounds as far as Dylan’s concerned. Well that’s the plan…

Having a boyfriend really cuts into your diary time. Especially when Josh wants to see me, like, every night.

I mean, I like Josh, he’s very sweet and we have a laugh, but he’s so
clingy
and he agrees with everything I say. Even when I rant about how hanging is too good for Nicole Scherzinger and how they should make death by firing squad legal, he agrees with me. And Josh loves Nicole Scherzinger. Not a point in his favour.

He wants to have all these meaningful conversations and he’s constantly asking me, ‘What are you thinking about?’ And, y’know, a lot of the time I’m just thinking about shoes or what I’m going to have for dinner or when I’m actually going to find time to do my History of Art notes.

It works better when we actually go and do something, like see a film or go bowling. Otherwise, we have to sit there and talk about our feelings or get off with each other. The kissing’s nice but there’s no sparkage. I miss the sparkage.

Is it weird of me not to have told any of my friends that me and Josh are going out? I haven’t told the ’rents because, like, that would never happen. I think Nat and Trent must know because they’re friends with him but I haven’t told Shona or Dylan.

I’m pretty sure I was going to but I didn’t and now the longer I leave it, the harder it is. Josh and I have been seeing each other for over a month (he got me an anniversary card!) and owning up would just mean having to go into this big, garbled explanation about why I didn’t tell them sooner. There’s this little voice in my head that tells me that I haven’t told Shona or Dylan because I still have a stupid dream that Dylan will realise he can’t live without me. And that if I admit to them that I’m seeing Josh, then I have to admit it to myself. But it’s not like I’m in denial. Hey, I know that I’m going out with Josh. Josh and me are fine together.

So why haven’t I told the others?

Dylan called me today. And he’s like, ‘Soooooo, Valentine’s Day on Sunday…’

I snorted derisively, because it seemed like the right thing to do.

There was a pause. ‘Shona and me are having an anti-Valentine’s party. We’re going to stick pins in Barbie and Ken and watch slasher movies. Only our single friends are invited, so I immediately thought of you,’ he drawled.

‘Ha ha.’

It would have been a perfect opportunity to tell him about Josh but I didn’t. I’m such a coward.

Josh met me for lunch.

I was just getting stuck into my pizza and wishing that Josh would unsling his arm from round my shoulder because it was making hand-to-mouth co-ordination slightly tricky when I looked out of the window and saw Dylan walking past.

Please don’t notice me, I prayed, but of course, he had to glance in the window at the precise moment that Josh was trying to place a slobbery kiss on my cheek. Dylan narrowed his eyes and shook his head before stomping off.

‘I’ve got to go,’ I told Josh, distractedly.

‘’Kay. Love you,’ he said, gazing into my eyes.

‘Um, yeah, me too,’ I mumbled and dashed outside, but Dylan was gone.

I looked for him in the art block but then I bumped into Martyn and promptly forgot all about Dylan. It takes a lot to send all thoughts of Dylan flying out of my head but it’s the coolest thing! Martyn is planning a trip to Paris next month for our Photography class. Paris! Without my parents! And it would be my birthday while we’re away. Plus, it’s educational. This is going to be killer.

The day from hell. The ’rents think I’m too young to go to Paris on a supervised college trip with a bunch of ‘feckless art students’. Jeez, I’m going to be seventeen next month. We had a big argument about it. Cue much door slamming and flouncing out of rooms. That was just my mum. I, of course, was the epitome of restraint. We were just in the middle of part four of the row when Dylan rang and asked me to lunch.

Now normally if Dylan asked me to meet him for lunch I’d be really excited but as I caught the bus into town I had this sick feeling of dread, like I was going to the dentist to have all my teeth filled without an anaesthetic.

I met Dylan outside Rhythm Records (where he works part-time) and he barely said hello. In fact, what came out of his mouth was definitely more of a grunt than any recognisable word.

We walked to the Arts Centre café in silence and it wasn’t one of those companionable silences that we’re normally so good at. It was spiky.

‘So, what’s up?’ I asked after Dylan had sat and played with his pasta for fifteen minutes.

‘Nothing.’ Dylan was never usually that snippy with me.

‘OK,’ I said very warily because I had a feeling we were about to get into an argument and I really didn’t want to go there.

Dylan looked up from his pasta and pesto and flared his nostrils. ‘How’s Josh?’ Too late, looked like I was going to get one.

Then it was my turn to stare at my penne pollo e funghi like it was about to impart the secrets of the universe. ‘I was going to tell you but, um, there was never a good moment,’ I muttered.

Dylan pushed his plate away. ‘How long’s it been going on?’