Cwtch Me If You Can, Page 3

  Sean, of course, looks drop-dead gorgeous again.

  ‘Not your kinda thing?’ he asks again.

  ‘Not really. What about you?’

  ‘I don’t mind it, but I was kind of hoping to have a quiet night in.’

  ‘With your girlfriend?’ I blurt, unable to stop myself.

  He laughs. ‘No, with an essay I’ve got due in. God, that makes me sound like a loser, doesn’t it?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ I say quickly, even though Julia would agree with him. ‘I’m only here because my mates dragged me out.’

  ‘Same.’ He leans one shoulder against the wall, his body turned towards me.

  ‘So how did they bribe you to come out?’ I ask. ‘My friends promised to buy my drinks all night.’

  ‘Well they didn’t so much bribe me, they just…’ He sighs, then smiles sheepishly at me. ‘It’s my birthday. And somehow they talked me into coming out to celebrate, rather than writing an essay.’

  ‘Oh.’ I bite my lip but say, ‘Well, uh, happy birthday!’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How old are you?’ I ask, before I can wonder if that’s too rude to ask because really, when you think about it, I barely know him.

  ‘Twenty-two,’ he grumbles.

  ‘And you didn’t want to celebrate?’

  ‘My idea of celebrating doesn’t really include clubs.’ He eyes the doorway behind us, his gaze trailing up to the roof, and his lips curl in distaste.

  ‘Well, what does it include?’

  Screw this whole thing of swearing off guys – I might not be the romantic I used to be, but hell, I am not passing up the opportunity to flirt with a guy as sexy as Sean when he’s giving me the chance.

  His eyes meet mine and for a second, I’m totally dumbstruck, and my legs feel like jelly. Is this what swooning feels like? If it is, then I’m swooning.

  He leans toward me slightly – not like he’s going to kiss me or anything, but like he’s going to speak more softly, more intimately.

  Up this close, I notice that his eyes aren’t just green, but have flecks of gold in them.

  And just when I thought he couldn’t get any more gorgeous, he says, ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

  Definitely swooning now.

  Before I can respond, hands grab my shoulder and forearm, and Cathy leans up against me, head on my shoulder. ‘You’re not going home, are you?’

  I push her up so she’s standing more on her own feet. Her eyes are wide, but glazed-over slightly, and her smile is wide and expectant. ‘Where’s Jules and Ellie?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, they’re inside. They were in the loos.’ Her words are slurred, and when she says ‘loos’ it comes out more like ‘loooooooos.’

  ‘So they’re staying with you?’

  ‘Uh-huuuuuuh.’

  ‘I think we were just about to head somewhere else,’ Sean pitches in, stepping out from the wall to get Cathy’s attention. His eyes flicker back to me. ‘Unless you’d rather stay here with your mates?’

  ‘Wait,’ Cathy says, sounding a little more sober now. Her eyes narrow at Sean. ‘Don’t I know you?’

  ‘Um, I don’t know.’

  She squints at him more, then squeals. ‘Ooh! Ooh, I know how I know you! Aren’t you like, treasurer or something for the French society?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s me.’

  Cathy’s mouth opens slightly as if she’s about to say something to me, but then she looks back at Sean, and her eyes widen even further. Her mouth slides very slowly back shut. ‘Right. Okay.’ She hiccups. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  My best friend skips back inside the club, shooting me a grin over her shoulder, and winking. I want to turn to dust and blow away in the wind, I’m so embarrassed.

  Sean doesn’t seem to notice. He just smiles easily at me, and says, ‘Your friend?’

  ‘Best friend. And she kind of acts like mum in our house. Fixing holes in pockets and making sure we’ve got enough dish-washer tablets and paracetamol in the cupboards, you know.’

  Sean laughs. ‘In that case, I’m probably house-mum. I’m always doing stuff like that.’

  I smile, and then, because it looks like we’re going somewhere together – and not back into the club – I say, ‘So, where are we going?’

  We end up in McDonalds.

  Hardly glamorous, I know, but it’s not like there are any coffee shops open right now, and most of the pubs are rowdy and near closing. So we’re sitting in the too-bright light of McDonalds, opposite each other at a table near the window, with fries and cups of tea between us.

  And I can’t think of a single thing to say to him. I know this isn’t a date, but still…

  ‘You’re not wearing that necklace,’ he says, filling the silence.

  ‘You’re not wearing your glasses,’ I respond.

  ‘Contacts. They’re easier on a night out. Did you get rid of it? The necklace, I mean.’

  I touch a hand to my naked throat. ‘No. It’s buried in my jewellery box.’

  ‘Well, that’s better than still wearing it.’ He smiles.

  ‘I’m still not really over him.’

  I’m such an idiot! Was that a good thing to say? Is he going to run a mile now because he thinks I’m one of those girls who obsesses over an ex-boyfriend?

  But hey – he brought it up.

  I bite my lip, looking away from him out of the window. I hope I’m not blushing. And I hope he doesn’t think I’m as big an idiot as I feel.

  ‘Um, so,’ he says, ‘What do you do? Is Starbucks the future for you? I feel really weird, because we’ve met a few times, but I still don’t actually know much about you.’

  Glad of the change of topic, I turn back to him, wrapping my hands around my cup of tea. ‘Okay, well, I dropped out of Sixth Form after barely passing my AS Levels, worked in Tesco and a pub for a bit. Now I’m doing some college courses in psychology. What about you?’

  ‘Fourth year French,’ he answers. ‘I spent my third year abroad. Probably going to go into teaching.’

  ‘So you know what you want to do with your life.’

  ‘Kind of. At least, I’d like to get the qualifications to be a teacher, so I can go into it if I want to. What do you want to do?’

  I laugh, so hard that I give the most unattractive snort. ‘I have no clue.’

  He shrugs. ‘That’s okay. I have mates who still don’t know what they want to do.’

  And after that, talking with Sean is easy. I tell him more about me – like how I quit Sixth Form because I thought I’d never get my grades up (and how Cathy was the one who convinced me to give college a try and not give up on myself), and how I passed my driving test first time with only two minors.

  I learn that Sean’s dad is Irish – but his parents had a rough divorce when he was little, so he only sees his dad a couple of times a year because he lives in York now, and Sean and his mum and little sister live in Swansea. He tells me that he broke his arm falling out of a tree when he was fourteen, that he took three tries to pass his driving test, and my jaw drops when I hear about the two A* grades he got at A Level.

  ‘You probably could’ve got into Oxbridge.’

  ‘I didn’t bother applying. It would’ve been too much pressure.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  We talk about music, movies, TV shows we like, and when we realise we both love watching Game of Thrones (but he’s read the books and I haven’t) we talk about that for about twenty minutes, mostly debating over Sansa Stark’s character.

  Being with Will used to be easy because we liked so much of the same stuff, and we were so alike. And even though Sean and I have things in common, it’s different – it’s like almost everything he says is a surprise to me. And that’s good.

  But I’m not going to start dating him, I remind myself. I won’t. I’m not in the right place to do that. Emotionally or mentally. I need a break from dating. And with my disastrous history when it come
s to romance, I’m starting to convince myself that I must be jinxed.

  We spend almost two hours in McDonalds.

  If I’m honest, it’s was a much better way to spend my night than pushing away drunk, groping guys under strobe lighting.

  I’d stay longer with Sean, but we’re both starting to yawn. And I know that if I spend too much longer with him, I’m at a serious risk of forgetting about my ban on boys.

  Just as I’m wondering how to tell him I want to head back home, I’m saved by the bell: my phone starts to ring.

  I give Sean a look that says ‘sorry’, and answer. It’s Julia.

  ‘Where are you?’ She’s shouting, and I can hear other voices in the background calling to each other, and, behind that, music with heavy bass and some guy rapping over the top of it.

  ‘Nice talking to you, too. I’m in McDonalds.’ I tell her which one, describing where I am. ‘Are you still at the club?’

  ‘We’re just about to call a taxi. Are you getting one with us? Or going back to Lover Boy’s?’

  ‘He’s not –’ I break off, blushing. I can’t call Sean ‘Lover Boy’ (whether he is or not) when he’s right there in front of me, hearing my every word. I just hope he can’t hear Julia. Self-conscious, I press the button on the side of my phone to turn down the volume.

  ‘I’ll meet you guys and come back with you,’ I tell her instead. ‘Where are you?’

  When I hang up, Sean smiles easily at me, and starts to stand. ‘I’ll walk you back to meet your mates.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that.’

  His smile turns to a smirk. ‘Can’t have a pretty girl wandering around all on her own. Come on. Where are you meeting them?’

  ‘Maddison,’ I tell him, picking up my bag and slinging the strap across my body. I try not to think too much about the fact that he just called me pretty. ‘You really don’t have to walk me there, you know. I don’t mind if you’d rather go find your own mates.’

  He shrugs. ‘They’ll be fine without me.’

  ‘But it’s your birthday.’

  ‘Actually, it’s after midnight, so not any more.’

  I roll my eyes, waving a hand in a ‘whatever’ gesture. ‘Details.’

  ‘That’s them.’ I point to where Julia, Ellie and Cathy are huddled together on the pavement near a phone box. Jules is on her phone, and Cathy is chatting to Ellie. We’ve stopped at the end of the road, and there are so many people around on the pavements that they haven’t seen me yet.

  I turn back to Sean, and smile, but it feels stiff, almost formal. Suddenly, everything feels awkward. The air is thick, like it’s charged with tension that doesn’t know where to go. The kind of weird and awkward tension that I recognise from the end of first dates with boys when you don’t know whether to kiss them or hug them or just call ‘bye’ and walk away.

  Only this isn’t a date.

  And I’m not going to kiss him.

  Besides, Sean was probably just being nice. He didn’t want to go clubbing, saw an easy escape with me for a few hours, and that’s all it was. I bet the last thing on his mind is dating me, when he saw me in such a state back on Valentine’s Day.

  I bite my lip, though, because in spite of what I tell myself, I’m nervous.

  Sean clears his throat. He obviously feels the suspense between us too. ‘Thanks for tonight. I had a really great time.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  I can practically hear crickets chirping in the silence that follows.

  ‘Um…’ He clears his throat again. God, I think Sean’s even more nervous than I am. ‘So, I guess, I’ll maybe, um, see you around, some time?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Then the girls notice me, because over the din of people on a night out and the music spilling out of the open doors of the clubs along the road, I can hear Cathy shouting, ‘Alex! Alex! Alex, over here!’

  ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘Sure.’ Sean rubs the back of his neck, and then before I can turn away, he ducks down to kiss me on the cheek. I jump back, totally startled. ‘Bye, Alex. Have a good Easter.’

  ‘You – you too,’ I stammer, and blink at him a few times before walking to meet my friends. When I meet them, I can hear them talking to me, but I can’t focus. I’m too stunned. Instead, I just lift a hand to touch my cheek where he kissed me, and look back over my shoulder to see Sean raise a hand to me in farewell.

  Reasons to want to date Sean

  • He’s the most handsome guy in the history of guys

  • He might like me

  • Even after seeing me in a state on Valentine’s Day he hasn’t ignored me

  • He seems like a really, really great guy

  • He’s funny

  • He’s smart

  • He’s kind

  • Did I mention how good-looking he is yet?

  Reasons not to date Sean

  • Dating is a bad idea right now

  • He kissed me on the cheek and that means he’s probably not actually interested

  • There’s no way he’s interested. He was just being nice.

  • I’m not really over Will

  • I’ll get my heart broken. I always do.

  Chapter Five

  Two days later, Cathy and I are both at the house for a couple of hours, before I have to go to work. The other two girls are still at classes.

  I managed to avoid most of their questions on Saturday night (or, rather, Sunday morning). I dismissed it, saying we were friends and that was all.

  Cathy isn’t falling for it, though. She knows me too well.

  She hasn’t mentioned to Julia or Ellie that she knows Sean the waiter from university, and I’m glad. It’s hard enough to get my feelings straight in my head without a bunch of other people pitching in.

  Right now, we’re sitting in the living room with some left-over Chinese takeaway we all ordered yesterday, Deal or No Deal playing on the TV. We’re not paying any attention to it though – instead, my best friend is finding out everything from my night with Sean.

  I have to tell her. She’s my best friend. I can’t hide stuff from her. And even if I don’t want everyone’s advice, I’d like to talk to someone about it. And even if Cathy hasn’t been in love, she’s realistic when it comes to relationships.

  ‘I can’t believe I know him,’ she says for the billionth time. ‘How crazy is that? I mean, I don’t know him that well. But I’ve talked to him a little on society pub crawls and stuff like that. I mean, he seems like a nice guy.’

  ‘He is.’

  She rolls her eyes, shovelling more sweet and sour chicken into her mouth. She says, mouth full, ‘So tell me again what happened at the end of the night?’

  I sigh, poking the noodles in my plastic tub. ‘He walked me round to Maddison to meet you, and then it got all awkward as we were saying goodbye. Like, end-of-a-first-date awkward. And he said he had a nice time, and I said that I did too, then you called me, and he just – just kissed my cheek.’

  Cathy frowns, swallowing. ‘And you’re totally sure he wasn’t aiming for your mouth and missed?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘A kiss on the cheek?’

  ‘Like a peck. Like you’d kiss your gran at Christmas.’

  My best friend sighs heavily, shaking her head. ‘Boys are a goddamn mystery.’

  ‘This is why,’ I say, ‘I’m not dating. For a while.’

  ‘But you like this guy.’

  I groan, thinking about the lists I made to try to help me answer that same question, putting my half-eaten leftovers back on the coffee table and tucking my feet up under me on the sofa. I pull a cushion onto my lap. ‘I don’t know, Cathy. I mean, he’s a hard guy not to like. He’s just got that kind of personality. And, of course, he’s totally gorgeous.’

  ‘And he must like you.’

  I shrug. ‘Yeah, enough to hang out with me. But he probably just likes me as a friend, or something.’

  ‘But –’ />
  ‘Otherwise,’ I interrupt, ‘he’d have actually tried to kiss me on Saturday.’

  ‘Mm.’ She can’t disagree with that, so she doesn’t. And she doesn’t try to offer me any advice on it, either. We both turn back to Deal or No Deal, just as someone opens the 1p box and everyone celebrates.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cathy smile at the TV. I don’t. I can’t really concentrate on the telly anyway. I’m too busy replaying Saturday night with Sean in my head again.

  Before Will destroyed all my faith in romance, I’d have said that there was a spark when Sean kissed my cheek. That my skin was tingling afterwards from the imprint of his lips. That we had chemistry.

  But now, I just think maybe that spark I felt was because it was so cold, and his lips were warm.

  There’s nothing romantic between us. The only reason he kissed my cheek is to make a point that whatever there is between us, it’s just friendship.

  There’s no real reason we keep running into each other, either. I can’t believe it’s fate pushing us together. There’s no such thing as fate.

  And in spite of what I tell myself, I can’t help but feel a little sad about that.

  When I get home from work later that day, I find myself rooting out the shoeboxes from under my bed. The first shoebox used to hold the Converse I bought in the January sales, but inside is what would look to anyone else like a pile of rubbish.

  It’s not rubbish, though. It’s all my mementoes from my last relationship. Cinema tickets, receipts from meals, photos I’d printed to put on my pin board. I go to my jewellery box, take out the necklace Will gave me that’s buried there, and drop it into the shoebox, too.

  I think I’m finally ready to move on. Or at least try to move on.

  I pull out the other shoeboxes, then, and line them up in front of me on the floor.

  I have had four boyfriends in my life.

  The first was when I was ten. It started at the last school disco of Year Six, before we all left for comprehensive school. Barry Jones gave me his Penguin biscuit, and then we danced the Cha-Cha Slide together, and at the end of the disco he asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend.