away.
Chapter Fifty-Four
On a scale of one to ten, with one being completely sensible-decisions sane, ten being completely are-you-out-of-your-mind insane, how would you rank what you did today, Abi?
A part of me says that it’s somewhere around a fifteen.
Another part of me says “Hmm. Two?”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Monday night is when I lie awake contemplating the events of the day. Tuesday morning is pretty much the same, only sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair instead of lying in bed.
Am I just doing this because Graham stepped into my life just when I was moping about the Shane situation and I feel like he’s my rescuer? Or does this actually make sense? Do I actually like Graham?
Kissing him wasn’t unbearable, which is a point in his favour. I don’t particularly like kissing anyway. I mean, it’s pointless, it really is. There is so much more intimacy in little gestures, the fingertips running along your arm, the teeth nibbling on your neck. Kissing is just . . . well, not bad, but not brilliant, let’s put it that way.
But if I really hated him, then I wouldn’t have been able to go near him. Unless of course it’s just that I’ve been so love-deprived for so long that I don’t care who it is who’s kissing me.
I’m not that sort of person, am I? Physical contact should not be that important to me. Only somehow whenever it happens, it becomes important.
We’re really nothing but animals, when it comes down to it.
I wonder what would have happened if Anna hadn’t arrived home and we decided to go out for a walk. (Holding hands.) How far it would have gone.
And what am I doing? There’s one part of me that shudders at the memory of the two of us sprawled out on his couch making out, and another that loves it. It’s Graham. And then it’s Graham.
He cares . And that makes me feel worthwhile, relevant, fabulous.
Chapter Fifty-Six
“I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday. How the hell is it only Tuesday? Are they playing some horribly cruel joke on us or something?”
Fiona is spending her lunch-time ranting about the injustice of the working week. Sarah and I nod in sympathy.
“Come on, at least we’re off on Friday,” Sarah reminds her.
Easter holidays. Ah. Bliss.
“Speaking of which, we really should do something this weekend,” Fiona says.
“Girly sleepover fun?” Sarah grins. “Awful cheesy teen movies and an unhealthy amount of chocolate . . .”
“Mmm,” she says. “ Or . . . we could go out.”
“Go out? Out? Into the real world? Are you serious?” Sarah kids.
Fiona smiles. “I know, it’s all terribly exciting and daring. But seriously, Saturday night, what d’you think?”
“Sure,” I shrug. I suppose it won’t be that bad . . . will it? And it’s good to try new things, right? Try to experience as much as you can when you’re young? I haven’t gone out to a club in nearly a year, since last summer.
“Sarah?”
“Sure, where? Bearing in mind that you’re the only one of us with an ID, by the way.”
“Well, if we bring Hugh along, we can go into town – he knows one of the bouncers at some club. Plus he’s kind of cute.”
Sarah and I stare at her.
She giggles. “Oh, come on, he is.”
“Yeah, he is, but he’s with Emily,” Sarah reminds her.
“I know, I know,” she sighs. “He’s still fun to look at, though.”
I grin. “So we’re dragging him along, yeah?”
“Yes, we’re going to shamelessly use him,” Fiona says. “Some of us more than others.”
“Well, if he’s coming, then Emily’s coming,” Sarah muses. “Shane might want to come along, too . . .”
The mention of his name makes me feel strange. Very strange. I’m not sure why. It’s not jealousy, is it? No, it can’t be. I’m over him. I must be. Graham. Think of Graham. I like him. He’s soft and safe and soothing and comforting. Shane is unfamiliar territory. Shane has too much power over me. Shane makes me
Chapter Fifty-Four
On a scale of one to ten, with one being completely sensible-decisions sane, ten being completely are-you-out-of-your-mind insane, how would you rank what you did today, Abi?
A part of me says that it’s somewhere around a fifteen.
Another part of me says “Hmm. Two?”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Monday night is when I lie awake contemplating the events of the day. Tuesday morning is pretty much the same, only sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair instead of lying in bed.
Am I just doing this because Graham stepped into my life just when I was moping about the Shane situation and I feel like he’s my rescuer? Or does this actually make sense? Do I actually like Graham?
Kissing him wasn’t unbearable, which is a point in his favour. I don’t particularly like kissing anyway. I mean, it’s pointless, it really is. There is so much more intimacy in little gestures, the fingertips running along your arm, the teeth nibbling on your neck. Kissing is just . . . well, not bad, but not brilliant, let’s put it that way.
But if I really hated him, then I wouldn’t have been able to go near him. Unless of course it’s just that I’ve been so love-deprived for so long that I don’t care who it is who’s kissing me.
I’m not that sort of person, am I? Physical contact should not be that important to me. Only somehow whenever it happens, it becomes important.
We’re really nothing but animals, when it comes down to it.
I wonder what would have happened if Anna hadn’t arrived home and we decided to go out for a walk. (Holding hands.) How far it would have gone.
And what am I doing? There’s one part of me that shudders at the memory of the two of us sprawled out on his couch making out, and another that loves it. It’s Graham. And then it’s Graham.
He cares . And that makes me feel worthwhile, relevant, fabulous.
Chapter Fifty-Six
“I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday. How the hell is it only Tuesday? Are they playing some horribly cruel joke on us or something?”
Fiona is spending her lunch-time ranting about the injustice of the working week. Sarah and I nod in sympathy.
“Come on, at least we’re off on Friday,” Sarah reminds her.
Easter holidays. Ah. Bliss.
“Speaking of which, we really should do something this weekend,” Fiona says.
“Girly sleepover fun?” Sarah grins. “Awful cheesy teen movies and an unhealthy amount of chocolate . . .”
“Mmm,” she says. “ Or . . . we could go out.”
“Go out? Out? Into the real world? Are you serious?” Sarah kids.
Fiona smiles. “I know, it’s all terribly exciting and daring. But seriously, Saturday night, what d’you think?”
“Sure,” I shrug. I suppose it won’t be that bad . . . will it? And it’s good to try new things, right? Try to experience as much as you can when you’re young? I haven’t gone out to a club in nearly a year, since last summer.
“Sarah?”
“Sure, where? Bearing in mind that you’re the only one of us with an ID, by the way.”
“Well, if we bring Hugh along, we can go into town – he knows one of the bouncers at some club. Plus he’s kind of cute.”
Sarah and I stare at her.
She giggles. “Oh, come on, he is.”
“Yeah, he is, but he’s with Emily,” Sarah reminds her.
“I know, I know,” she sighs. “He’s still fun to look at, though.”
I grin. “So we’re dragging him along, yeah?”
“Yes, we’re going to shamelessly use him,” Fiona says. “Some of us more than others.”
“Well, if he’s coming, then Emily’s coming,” Sarah muses. “Shane might want to come along, too . . .”
The mention of his name makes me feel strange. Very strange. I’m not sure why. It’s not jealousy, is it? No, it can’t be. I’m over him. I must be. Graham. Think of Graham. I like him. He’s soft and safe and soothing and comforting. Shane is unfamiliar territory. Shane has too much power over me. Shane makes me
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