‘So you don’t fancy Robert, then?’ laughed Kelly, as we walked away from him and headed up to our room.
‘No, definitely not,’ I giggled, suddenly feeling like the biggest girl in the world as a strange feeling danced around in my tummy. Yes, you guessed it, butterflies. Robert Miles – my best friend of seven years, had given me butterflies. I loved the sensation.
‘Can you believe you kissed him?’
‘I really can’t,’ I said, shaking my head at the madness of it all.
‘Did it feel weird? Was it anything like kissing a brother?’ she asked with a perplexed look. ‘That’s the one thing I was worried about with you guys.’
‘Definitely not brotherly, no.’
‘Good! That could’ve been really awkward.’
‘You know what, it just felt right. We fit together.’
‘You lucky bitch,’ she howled.
I didn’t even bother trying to sleep that night – I couldn’t, someone had to stay awake and keep an eye on the grin that had exploded onto my face and refused to leave. Instead I spent the night looking at the ceiling, thinking of Robert. I wondered what thoughts were in his head at that moment, whether, like me, he was feeling light-headed from it all, or whether he’d regretted it as soon as he’d left me. I was sure it wouldn’t have been the latter, not so soon afterwards anyway. The whole thing had been too delicious to think negatively on.
Ben
Sixteen years old …
Dread filled me as I woke up on the last morning in Paris and realized we were still going to be taking a group trip to the Eiffel Tower. It was the last place I wanted to go – I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. It was hard enough knowing that my plan had failed, I couldn’t have faced Robert and Maddy canoodling up there in front of me and soaking up all the romance I thought would be there for me.
It seemed, for once, my prayers were answered.
As soon as our suitcases were packed and closed there was a knock on the door from Miss James, coming to tell us that due to torrential rain, she thought it best if we cancelled our Eiffel Tower trip, although she did promise to get the bus to drive right by it so that we could take some snaps.
I didn’t grumble or moan.
I was relieved.
Due to Maddy and Robert being busy sucking each other’s faces off as they said good morning, I was put in charge of getting us the back row of the coach on the way home. I purposefully failed to get it, which thankfully meant we had to sit apart. I managed to smile at them both as I suggested they sat together, telling them I was knackered and would probably sleep the whole way anyway. They agreed and found a spot towards the back of the bus, obviously away from Miss James in case they wanted to continue to lock lips. Deciding to go towards the front of the bus, I sat facing the window, glumly watching the world pass me by.
I didn’t look when Miss James announced we were approaching the Eiffel Tower, with the warning to get our cameras out … I closed my eyes and tried my best to ignore the gasps of admiration coming from everyone else around me.
It was remarkable how differently I felt about the place within the space of just a few hours. Before that trip it had been the iconic objectification of love, as it was and is to millions of people around the world, but on that cold, wet and miserable morning, it became the symbol of devastation and despair – a representation of a lost love, of a squandered hope.
I couldn’t bear to be so close as it highlighted my failure and mocked me callously.
I was ready to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened. I was hoping (rather foolishly) that Maddy and Robert would denounce it as some crazy holiday fling spurned on by the romantic setting, which they’d come to regret once we were home. But it didn’t happen.
The following Monday, when Maddy knocked for me on the way to school, I noticed there was something different about her. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it at first, I just noticed she looked glossier and more glammed up. Turns out she was wearing more make-up than usual. Not loads, the school would never have allowed that, but her cheeks were rosier from blusher, her lips were smoother from balm and, to complete her look, her hair was perfectly placed, gliding over her shoulders in silky auburn waves.
‘You look nice,’ I offered.
She looked at the ground coyly, unable to stop a smile from forming.
It was for Robert, I realized with sickening clarity.
As we walked together in silence I could tell she was nervous about seeing him. Unless they’d met up without telling me, that morning was their first encounter following their Parisian love affair. I loathed having to be there for it, and wished I could have had the foresight to pull a sicky that day instead.