Girl Heart Boy: No Such Thing as Forever (Book 1)

BOOK: Girl Heart Boy: No Such Thing as Forever (Book 1)
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ALI CRONIN
 
 

Table of Contents
 

Chapter 1

 

Chapter 2

 

Chapter 3

 

Chapter 4

 

Chapter 5

 

Chapter 6

 

Chapter 7

 

Chapter 8

 

Chapter 9

 

Chapter 10

 

Chapter 11

 

Chapter 12

 

Chapter 13

 

Chapter 14

 

Chapter 15

 

Chapter 16

 

Chapter 17

 

Chapter 18

 

Chapter 19

 

Coming soon

 

GIRL HEART BOY:

GIRLS’ NIGHT IN

GIRL HEART BOY:

FORGET ME NOT

exclusive ebook short stories
and

GIRL HEART BOY:

RUMOUR HAS IT

in paperback and ebook

For my family

1
 

Ashley stretched like a cat and yawned so wide I could see the flappy bit at the back of her throat.

‘Yeah, no, I dunno,’ she said, post-yawn. ‘Maybe four? No wait …’ She looked at the common-room ceiling, as if the mounds of gobbed paper stuck there would provide some insight into her holiday sex stats. ‘Yeah. Four.’ She scratched at her eyebrow ring. Lovely Ashley and her insatiable need to be edgy.

I wriggled on my chair. Partly because although it was September it was bloody boiling, and scratchy common-room chairs + sweaty thighs = not comfy. But also because I had a secret. Well, it wasn’t a secret, but at the same time I didn’t want just to shout it out. A girl has standards.

Donna gave Ashley a little round of applause. ‘Nice work, lady. So, to recap. Zero for me …’ She raised the back of her hand to her forehead in mock regret. ‘Obviously just the one for Ms Monogamy over here.’

Cass smiled almost guiltily and hugged her knees. Bless her, after nearly four years with Adam she
knows the score. Let’s just say he’s not exactly Mr Monogamy.

‘Which just leaves our feminist friend, Sarah.’ Donna plonked herself on my knee and hooked her arm round my neck.

‘Any news, hmm?’ she asked, pressing her cheek against mine and fluttering her eyelashes. She wears so much mascara I could feel a draught. I pushed her off. She was pretty heavy.

‘That would be telling,’ I said demurely, but I couldn’t help grinning. Honestly, I’m such a tit.

Donna spun round from her position at my feet and looked up at me, her dark eyes enormous. ‘Oh my God, you totally did it!’

I actually giggled. I know: tragic.

Ash and Cass both leant forward in their chairs like I was about to impart the news of the century, and I found myself with three pairs of eyes boring into me and three pairs of eyebrows reaching for the skies.

‘What?’

Ash growled and chucked her apple core at me. ‘Just tell us!’

‘Well, his name’s Joe …’ I started, but was drowned out by my friends’ shrieks. There was a split second when the room went silent and everyone turned to look at us, but it was over as soon as it had begun. It
was the first day of term: it was not the first gossip-related shrieking incident.

‘I KNEW there was something going on,’ crowed Cass gleefully. ‘You’ve been bouncing around like Tigger ever since we got here.’

Donna punched me affectionately on the arm. ‘Who’d have thought, our own little man-hater’s all growed up.’

‘Ow! Piss off,’ I said amiably, rubbing my arm. ‘Anyway, I don’t hate men.’

‘So what happened?’ asked Cass, rubbing her hands together at the thought of the juicy goss I was about to serve up.

So I told them.

It started with a Disney Princess football.

We were in Spain on holiday, me, my mum and dad and my little brother, Daniel. He’s twelve and on the cusp of being a total dickhead, so I was keen to stay out of his way. In fact, my plan was to sunbathe, read, swim, eat and maybe do a bit of sightseeing and shopping. That’s it. I mean, I liked my parents. I generally enjoyed being with them. But what they wanted from a holiday and what I wanted from a holiday was about as far apart as, let’s say for argument’s sake, getting up early to visit ancient ruins, and sleeping till
noon to muster the energy for a busy afternoon’s lazing. In short, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic.

The first three days we all mooched about on the beach, my parents making a show of taking my needs into consideration, but then the call of scenery became too much and they took Dan (sucker!) in the hire car up some mountains to take photos of The View, while I took myself, my iPod and my book down to the beach for some serious doing-nothing.

I laid out my towel, rubbed Factor 30 into my exposed bits and settled down to some boy-meets-girl with an Ellie Goulding soundtrack. It was lovely to be basking in the sun, all on my own. I thought about the crisps and chocolate chilling in the cool bag beside me. Mum and Dad were of the opinion that eating anything between meals was some kind of character flaw. Like it was noble to be weak with hunger by teatime. But they weren’t here to disapprove. I wriggled with contentment. And then a football shot out of nowhere and bounced off my sunglasses, popping out both lenses.

‘OW! What the …?’ I howled, grabbing my poor broken shades. They were only Primark, but that wasn’t the point. I looked up to see someone looming over me. The sun was in my eyes, but I could see that it was a boy, about my age, and that he didn’t look particularly sorry.

‘What the hell are you doing? That bloody hurt!’ I had turned a fetching shade of beetroot, partly from the shock and the pain, but mainly cos I don’t do confrontation. Irritable tutting is about as far as I go, but I was so angry it had just come out.

‘I’m really sorry, mate,’ he said, laughing. ‘It was an accident. Ben’s a donkey in midfield.’ He pointed back at three guys, all pointing and laughing at me. Brilliant.

‘Yeah, well, you could have blinded me,’ I grumped.

‘No offence, but I don’t think so,’ said the boy, still smirking. What was he so chirpy about? ‘It’s just plastic. Look.’

He held out the ball to me. It had Disney Princesses on it. And, while I didn’t fall for him there and then, it was definitely the beginning.

Well, obviously I couldn’t help smiling. ‘Nice ball,’ I said. Then blushed again, as I fought the urge to glance at his pant region.

He kneed the ball into the air and did a couple of keepy-uppies. ‘Thanks. I found it.’

‘Cool. Lucky you,’ I said wittily.

He put his head on one side as if to say, ‘Huh. Strange girl,’ but then, despite my lack of conversational skills, flopped down on the sand beside me.

‘I’m Joe,’ he said.

‘Hi, Joe.’ He stared at me for a moment. I gawped
back at him. Oh shit. Right. Social niceties. ‘Sarah,’ I said hurriedly.

‘Well, nice to meet you, Sarah,’ he said, smiling again. He had ridiculously perfect teeth, which explained all the grinning. Show-off. He looked down to brush a fly off his foot and I took the chance to give him the once-over. Short light-brown hair that had gone all surfer stiff with sea spray, dark-brown eyes, slim but not skinny, and wearing nothing but loose swim shorts. There was no denying it: he was hot.

‘So, you here on your own?’ he asked, tossing the ball from hand to hand.

I shook my head. ‘With my parents,’ and then added quickly, ‘but I pretty much do my own thing. How about you?’

‘I’m with them,’ said Joe, nodding back at his friends, who were now engrossed in pushing each other over in the sand. ‘Mates from uni.’

We watched one of them clutch his chest and die in dramatic slow-motion under a volley of imaginary machine-gun fire from another, and I raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh yeah, studying what?’ I said. ‘Arsing Around 101?’ (Get me, making conversation! As long as his friends stayed over there, I’d be OK. I could handle a new person, but new people, plural? It was like my
worst nightmare. I didn’t know what to do, what to say – even how to stand. Should I put my hands behind my back? Should I fold them? What expression should I have on my face? See? Nightmare. So instead I’d just clam up. It’s probably where the man-hater rep came from. People mistook my social crapness for aloofness.)

Anyway, glory be, cos Joe laughed! ‘Yeah, with Advanced Dick Studies,’ he said. And then it was his turn to blush, or was it my imagination? ‘I mean, not literally, y’know … studying dicks.’

I laughed then. ‘It’s OK. I knew what you meant.’

‘Cool.’ He met my eyes for a moment and smiled that smile again.

Despite myself, I felt a flutter of excitement. Here I was – me, the virgin queen! – sitting on a Spanish beach chatting with a boy who was both gorgeous and funny, and who had just looked deep into my eyes. The girls would never believe this. Hell,
I
could hardly believe it. I hated being a virgin among, well, a whole heap of non-virgins. Hated it. But at the same time I’d pretty much resigned myself to staying that way forever. The thought of a boy fancying me enough to want to do
It
with me was just … weird.

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