Girl Heart Boy: No Such Thing as Forever (Book 1) (7 page)

He inclined his head modestly. ‘The facts speak for themselves … And you’re welcome.’

I laughed and shook my head in mock disbelief. ‘Pride comes before a fall, Joseph.’

‘What does that even mean?’ he said, feigned confusion furrowing his rather lovely brow. ‘Like, what does falling over have to do with pride?’

I laughed then realized that he wasn’t joking. Maybe a knowledge of the metaphorical nature of old granny sayings isn’t a vital component of a politics degree, but still. Duh. Anyway, it made me feel slightly less petrified about seeing his friends again. If nothing else I could dazzle them with ‘Too wrongs don’t make a right’ and ‘A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush’ (although to be honest I didn’t have a clue what that one was about).

Joe turned away from me, taking my arm with him so I curved round his back. ‘So,’ he said, kissing my hand. ‘I guess the question on everyone’s lips is: how do I compare with the others?’

I tried to sound light and unbothered. ‘What others?’

He spun round so he was facing me again. ‘No way. You weren’t a virgin?’ I shrugged and smiled. ‘Wow. Well, I have to say: you’re a natural.’

I beamed. As compliments go, it was way up there. ‘You don’t mind, then?’ I asked, and he gave me a
what do you take me for
look and flopped on to his back. We lay silent for a minute. I raked my fingers lightly up and down his chest.

‘Mmm, that’s nice,’ he murmured, his eyes closed. I watched his mouth curve with contentment and felt a slight thrill that it was me who was making him feel like that.

No use kidding myself. Last night might as well never have happened.

‘So when did you lose yours, then?’ I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to destroy the mood.

Without opening his eyes, he said: ‘Fifteen. Honey Jessop. We went out for two years in the end.’ He paused as if reminiscing. ‘She gave brilliant blow jobs.’

‘You lost your virginity to someone called Honey?’ I ignored the BJ comment-slash-subtle hint. I knew that giving him oral sex was probably the polite thing to do, since he’d done me the favour, but I was also pretty sure that, when it came to sex, the normal rules of etiquette needn’t apply. Bottom (ha ha) line? I just wasn’t ready to put his willy in my mouth.

He grinned, showing his beautiful teeth. ‘What can I say? I went to a posh school.’

I sniffed haughtily. ‘Well, if I may say so, Joe is a much more sensible name for one’s first shag.’

He put his arm round me and drew me close. ‘Couldn’t agree more.’ He kissed the top of my head and we fell silent, eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms.

I woke to find Joe fresh from the shower, naked and towelling his hair. It was the first time I’d seen his penis anything other than excited. It looked kind of sluggy.

‘Get up, lazy bones,’ he said, chucking me the towel. ‘I need food.’ I grinned happily and jumped out of bed, flicking his bum with the towel on my way out of the door. ‘You’ll pay for that, missy,’ he called after me.

I giggled. I certainly hoped so.

‘So, who were those girls last night?’ I asked casually, studying the cafe menu. In the shower I’d started thinking about them again. That Mimi made me uneasy.

Joe wrinkled his forehead. ‘I told you. Friends from uni.’ He put his menu back in its little wooden holder in the middle of the table. ‘What are you having?’

‘Uh, scrambled eggs on toast, I think. No, I mean, who
exactly
are they?’ I smiled at him. ‘I’m just interested.’

‘Scrambled eggs?’ Joe scoffed. ‘No way. You need a full English after all that exertion in my bed.’ I felt his bare foot working its way up my leg. I pushed it down.

‘Joe! I will not have such behaviour!’ I raised one eyebrow in what I hoped was a seductive fashion. He stuck his bottom lip out.

‘Sorry, Miss.’ Slouching in his chair, he grinned mischievously. ‘Can I help it if you drive me wild with desire?’

Funnily enough, the friends conversation didn’t happen after that. Turned out sex talk over breakfast is most diverting, although a bit of a bummer when you have a train to catch. I crossed my legs and wondered if I was doomed to be permanently horny now I was with Joe. He got up to leave. ‘Right,’ he said,
chucking a couple of notes on the table. ‘I’ll walk you to the station.’

Back on the street we walked in silence, just enjoying being together. ‘I’ve had an amazing weekend,’ I said, leaning into him. ‘I would say you could come to mine next, but …’ I didn’t need to spell out that my parents would probably prove to be a bit of a downer on the whole riotous sex thing.

Joe squeezed my hand briefly. ‘Yeah, well. I’ll text you or something, yeah?’

Or something? I swallowed hard and opened my mouth, although I had nothing to say. He stopped and turned to me. ‘Look. Sarah.’ Oh God, he’d made his voice all gentle and conciliatory. Even with my limited experience, I knew what that meant. ‘You’re gorgeous, and great in bed, but I don’t want you getting the wrong idea … and thinking this is something it’s not.’

‘Well, what is it then?’ I felt sick.

Joe shrugged. ‘It’s a bit of fun, isn’t it?’ He smiled at me encouragingly. ‘You’re still at school and I have uni and everything … It’s not like either of us is looking for a relationship.’

Leaving him in Spain had nothing on this. At least then there was hope. I let go of Joe’s hand. I’d forgiven him once. I wasn’t going to do it again. Turning to leave, I quietly said, ‘I don’t know what I want. But
I did think maybe it was more than just sex.’ And then I walked away. He started to say something, but he quickly gave up, and then I heard him turn round and start back the way we’d come. I put my bag on the floor and clenched my fists tightly, my nails gouging crescent moons in the palms of my hands. I stared at the pavement. It was covered with patches of ancient dried chewing gum.

‘Bye then,’ I whispered.

At the station I bought a magazine and a Coke and sat rigidly on the platform, staring into space. When the train arrived I calmly boarded and walked along until I found an empty carriage, then dropped into a seat, not caring that my bag was blocking the aisle, and howled. I buried my face in my hands. Oh God, the humiliation. And Joe. Oh, Joe. The thought of not seeing him again made me want to die. I hauled my bag on to my knee, grabbed my phone then chucked the bag back on to the floor. I scrolled to Cass in my Favourites. She answered almost immediately.

‘Hey, Mrs Joe, how’d it go?’ she purred.

‘Cass,’ I hiccuped. ‘I’ve been such a stupid cow.’

‘Oh, honey, what happened?’ I heard the sound of a door closing: Cass shutting herself away so she could talk to me in private. I could imagine the exact look of concern on her face.

I pinched the top of my nose as if that would stop me dissolving. ‘It was amazing. But then it wasn’t. But then it was again. And we had amazing sex. But …’ I burst into tears all over again. ‘He doesn’t want me.’

Cass gasped. ‘Did he tell you that?’

I felt a stab of protectiveness. Even after everything, I wasn’t ready to hate Joe. ‘Oh, it’s not his fault really,’ I said, sniffing. ‘I just read way too much into it.’ I started crying again. ‘Why can’t I be more like Ashley and just … 
shag
? Why does it have to mean so much to me?’

‘Look, hon, Ash talks the talk but she’s not immune. C’mon, you remember the way she was last Christmas when that Mike guy chucked her.’

I did. She’d tried to pretend she didn’t care, but Cass had seen her crying in the stationery cupboard.

I took a wavering breath. ‘I know. But I was way too clingy with Joe.’ I stopped, almost too embarrassed to go on. ‘I thought we were making love,’ I whispered.

Even over the sound of the train I could hear Cass sighing. ‘Oh, honey.’

‘I know,’ I said, sobbing. I lifted my feet up on to the seat and hugged my knees. ‘I drove him away.’

‘No you didn’t, hon. He’s just a man. That’s what they’re like.’

I spent the rest of the journey back to Brighton scrolling through every mournful track on my iPod and going over and over the previous forty-eight hours. Yes, Joe had been distant at the pub, but he’d been so attentive that morning. And so sincere. Was it really just to get me to have sex with him? And the sex had been special, I’d felt it. Why did he look so deeply into my eyes if he was just using me? Was it possible to fake all that? (
Well, duh
, said the voice of reason, making a long overdue appearance.)

With these riddles on repeat, I dozed off, waking with a jolt every time my phone pinged with a text or call from one of the girls. I put it on Silent and went back to sleep, only waking in Brighton when the people going to London started boarding the train.

I stumbled home, my mouth dry, my head aching, and a bag of stones in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to forget the last two days had ever happened.

Next morning found us all in our tutor room waiting for Paul – head of maths and the person lucky enough to be in charge of our pastoral care – to turn up, count us in, then rush off to kick some more number-crunching butt. Paul was OK, if you ignored the fact that he acted more like a hotshot businessman than a teacher and used phrases like ‘think outside the box’. And he was never in the room for more than five
minutes of our twenty-minute tutor periods, which left a full fifteen minutes (maths!) for us to gently ease ourselves into the day.

But I didn’t want any gaps in today. I wanted today to be busy, with no time for thinking. Or talking. So while Ashley and Donna discussed the film they’d seen that weekend, and Rich and Jack had a strange boy conversation about Saturday’s
Doctor Who
, I studied
Heat
magazine as if the size of some soap star’s thighs was the most fascinating thing I’d ever read, and hoped I’d be left alone. And I was, until Ollie appeared at my shoulder.

‘“2012: The Year of the Sugar Daddy”,’ he read aloud, making me jump. ‘Oh riiight. So that’s why you’ve gone for an older dude.’ He started poking me with his elbow, nudge-nudge-wink-wink style. ‘What have they got that us young’uns haven’t?’

‘Fuck off, Ollie,’ I snapped, pushing his arm away.

That wiped the grin off his face. ‘Sorry, flower. I take it the weekend didn’t go to plan then?’

I turned back to
Heat
. ‘Just leave it, OK?’

Silence. Now they’d be worried. I sighed and pushed the magazine away. ‘Look, I’m just in a bit of a bad place at the moment. I’ll get over it.’ Donna had been silent beside me, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak I interrupted. ‘Can we just say you live and learn, and leave it at that?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ she said. ‘But, Sar, no one thinks badly of you.’

I fiddled with a pen to try to distract myself from crying again. ‘Yes you do,’ I said, my voice wavering. ‘You think I’m an idiot. And you’re right.’ Everyone started chorusing,
No we don’t, Joe’s the idiot, blah blah
. Suddenly I felt exhausted. I looked around at my friends. Cass with her big watery eyes, Ashley and Donna exchanging worried looks. Even the boys looked concerned. Jack was practically wringing his hands, bless him. I attempted a smile.

‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. No one’s died, I got the wrong idea about Joe, that’s all.’ I scraped my chair back. ‘I just need to get a grip. Tell Paul I’ve gone to the loo, will you?’ And I walked out of the room, out of school, and home, where I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

In my dream Joe was sitting at my desk in the English room. He turned and smiled at me as I walked towards him. ‘Appearance and reality in
Jane Eyre
,’ he said, winking, then leant towards me conspiratorially and whispered, ‘The reality is us.’ Then he disappeared.

When I woke up I opened my bedroom window wide. I wasn’t big into making life decisions based on
my dreams, but I’d have been an idiot to ignore that one. Joe hadn’t realized how good we were together, that was all. It was totally understandable that he was scared. He was a student in London, I lived – with my parents – fifty miles away. I was seventeen, he was twenty. It still hurt like hell that he’d blown me off – every time I remembered him walking away from me it was like being stabbed in the chest. But some things are worth fighting for.

Feeling miserable but resolved, I went into the bathroom, peeled off my clothes and turned the shower as hot as it would go. I stood naked and shivering while I waited for it to heat up, then got in and let the water pelt me for half an hour, eco-misery no match for my own. I washed my hair, conditioned it, then flipped open a tube of posh exfoliating stuff I’d got for Christmas but never used, poured a huge blob into my hand and slapped it all over, rubbing it in till my skin hurt. Then I got out of the shower, stood in the fragrant fug and covered myself with moisturizer. Next came my favourite skinny jeans, a huge loose-knit jumper that I loved even though it had a hole in the shoulder, and big socks. Finally I sat on the floor in front of my mirror and blow-dried my hair, parting it into sections like they do at the hairdresser’s. A slick of Frizz-Ease, and I was ready.

I got my phone and, sitting on my bed, composed
a text. Cool and breezy was the way forward. Anything heavy would just scare him off even more.

I stood up, smoothed my duvet, and went downstairs to raid the fridge. I was starving.

At school the next day I was back to my old self, at least on the outside. Good old low-maintenance Sarah. I saw Ollie walking ahead of me and ran to catch him, linking my arm through his.

‘Oh, all right, Sarah,’ said Ollie, surprised. ‘You OK?’

‘Yeah.’ I rested my head on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a bitch.’

Ollie shrugged, bouncing my head up like a football. ‘Don’t worry about it. I was prob’ly an insensitive wanker. Joe call, did he?’

I shook my head. ‘Nope, not yet.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Ollie paused while his boy brain tried to digest this latest non-development.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘you coming to Jack’s big match tonight?’