Written in the Stars by Ali Harris Page B

moment more. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. I wish he was on here more often, but his profile and status have stayed stubbornly the same ever since he changed his relationship status to ‘Engaged’ and wrote a status update that said, ‘Bea Bishop finally said yes!’ No macho pretence or crude jokes about putting a ring on it. The comments underneath are all so happy; from the people who love Adam. Who loved us together.
    And then I click on my timeline. I scroll back, back, back, watching my life flash before my eyes, until finally I reach it.
    17 September 2006
    My very first update. I remember it because it was the week after I’d moved in here. Milly had assured me that the social networking website was going to be the biggest thing to happen to our generation. Obviously it took me ages to decide what the hell to put as my very first status. After nearly an hour of ruminating, I’d typed:
    Bea Bishop is ON.
    Once I’d posted it, Milly had cracked up laughing because she said it sounded like I was talking about my period. I tried to delete it, but I couldn’t work out how and Milly wouldn’t do it for me – she said it was too funny to change.
    I met Adam that same night.
    I look at my page with that first update and think of how the date and the memory of meeting Adam and my being back in this flat are all now inextricably entwined.
    I start going through my status updates from then on. There must be a clue here somewhere, some reason why Adam and I weren’t meant to be.
    I look at the one the morning after I met him:
    Bea Bishop has just had the best night ever – with Milly Singh .
    There are three comments underneath:
    Milly Singh: I didn’t fancy yours much. Tall, dark, handsome, clever . . . yeuch .
    Bea Bishop: And that’s why we’re best friends – we’ve always had entirely different taste in men! Cute and quirky and cool works for you. Speaking of which, when are you seeing Jay again?
    Milly Singh: Now! ;-)
    I still find it amazing that I’d even gone out that night at all. I hadn’t wanted to but despite my protestations Milly had dragged me out to the Greenwich Tavern. The pub was opposite Greenwich Park and had a cute little outdoor area where the walls had been whitewashed and painted with brightly coloured tulips.
    ‘It’s not far, Bea. You have to get back out there sometime. You’re almost twenty-three years old. You can’t hide away from the world forever. It’s not healthy . . .’
    She’d promised me she wouldn’t leave me, but had abandoned me to go and get drinks from the bar. I’d sat there alone, trying to keep my panic attack at bay, breathing through the dark tunnel that I was trapped in, trying to tell myself that it was OK. I could do this. I was in a pub, no big deal. But still the waves of fear and nausea had come. I didn’t deserve to be out, I told myself. Not after what happened. What right did I have to be building a new life now?
    Despite my introspection, I noticed Adam immediately – it was hard not to. It was a balmy September evening and he was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt that emphasised his coal-black hair. He smoothed back the curls that were threatening to fall into his eyes and I couldn’t help but gaze at the tanned sinews of his arms, momentarily blinded by his watch that glittered in the evening sun. He looked up at me then and silver sparkles lit up his eyes as he smiled a sweet, lopsided smile that belied his heroic good looks and seemed to give me an insight into his soul. I looked away immediately, heart pounding, pretending to busy myself by searching through my bag. When I looked up he was standing by my table. I found I could barely breathe. Let alone speak.
    ‘Hi,’ he said simply.
    I didn’t answer.
    ‘Can I get you a—’
    ‘I’m not interested,’ I replied curtly, finding my voice at last.
    He seemed taken aback before a wide, unapologetic smile had appeared on his face, a smile that turned into a laugh