Page 39 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘What was it like when you lost your mum?’ I asked.
A shadow crossed his face. He looked down and fiddled with a loose thread on his college tracksuit pants. Then he looked up, and his eyes, which looked almost inky blue in the darker light of the stairwell, met mine.
‘I made Mum a promise before she died. She wasn’t conscious or anything, but I told her that I’d fix the thing that broke her.
‘I think that if I hadn’t made that promise, a promise that felt bigger than the sadness, to focus on, I would have gone to a dark place. But there wasn’t room for feelings when I had to top med school, then work a million hours as a registrar and get a scholarship to come here,’ he said. ‘I think having this thing to do for Mum sort of saved me. Who needs anti-depressants if you don’t have time to think?’
I laughed even though it wasn’t really a joke.
‘I went down the medication route,’ I admitted. ‘I got anxious after Mum left. I’d always been a wound-up kid, but after she left, I started to have panic attacks. Not that I really knew what they were. Grandma Evelyn noticed, and a GP prescribed me Xanax for when things became too much.’
‘Did it help?’
‘Yeah, it did. But I was like a bingo card for side effects – I got nausea, fatigue, dizziness and blackouts. I took one of the pills the night of my year twelve formal, washed it down with a glass of champagne, and I don’t have a single memory of the night. I’m in about a thousand of the photos that my classmates uploaded to Facebook. Lily and Stella said I acted totally normal the whole time, but I don’t remember a thing.’
‘That must have been really scary,’ he said.
‘It was the first time my parents had been in the same room since the split, so it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have any memories of the night,’ I said lightly.
Alex didn’t smile.
‘I learned how to stay on top of the anxiety stuff without medication after that. I worked out that if I slept enough, ate well, stayed away from Mum, made lists... I could manage it.’
There was silence between us, one that we both needed to metabolise the confessions we’d made, revealing the invisible cuts and bruises we were still nursing.
‘You outsmarted your feelings,’ he said.
‘So did you,’ I replied. ‘Except when I’m with you, I feel a bit like I did back then. Like I’m not really in control of myself.’
I paused again to gather my thoughts, which had been careening around. But I knew that Alex understood everything I was saying.
‘I grew up thinking that following your heart was the most important thing in the world. “Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.” “You only get one life.” Dad used to say stuff like this all the time. He loves his work so much,’ I said. ‘But... I saw that love, love like Mum felt, and following your desire without thinking about anyone else, can hurt other people,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to feel like she did. Ever.’
He turned his head away for a moment, his chin buried in his hand likeThe Thinkercome to life. Then he looked back up the stairs at me.
‘I think we’re different from other people. So, let’s promise that we’ll do us differently,’ he said. ‘We won’t lose our heads. We won’t hurt each other.’
‘We’ve only got this one summer term. After it ends, we’re going to live on different sides of the world,’ I said quickly.
‘I know,’ he said.
‘How about we agree that we’re just a... summer fling. No losing our heads. No hurting each other. Just... fun,’ I said. I wanted to be with him. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay away from him. But I couldn’t justbewith him. Not without a plan, not without some guarantees, some protection.
He smiled, lighting up his whole face. ‘Okay,’ he said.
I grinned back, then bounced my Lycra-encased bottom down one hard stair then another until I was next to him.
‘No one gets hurts. I promise,’ he said.
Our outfits were the opposite of glamorous, the dark stone staircase was the opposite of romantic. He leaned towards me and his lips met mine. I understood that energy followed the rules of physics. But right then, I didn’t believe it because the release of whatever energy had built up between us over the last few days defied anything kinetic, nuclear or otherwise.
I moved into his lap, and my tongue moved into his mouth. I felt a silent groan vibrate from his soft lips. Something pulsed through me, the same thing I’d felt the night before – was that what proper, all-consuming desire felt like? I’d been certain feelings like it were a fiction, the stuff of books with swooning people on the cover and movies where lovers kissed in the rain at the end.
And, as I felt his arms wrap around me with far less hesitancy, I couldn’t help but smile. From our first conversation our brains had fitted together. But now I knew that our bodies did too. And I fully intended to spend the summer making Alex’s body my specialist subject.
Chapter 19
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