me@you.com Page 8

  I’d wanted to talk to Twiggy about Fickle too that night, but something had held me back; mainly worry that her reaction might not be what I’d wanted. After I’d finally logged off, reluctantly leaving Fickle, who kept telling me she’d miss me, I returned downstairs to sit with Mum and Dad in front of the TV for a bit. But every time I tried to concentrate on the TV programme they were watching, my brain just kept turning things over and over, replaying my conversations with Fickle, and distracting me so much that eventually even Mum noticed that I seemed preoccupied.

  “You worried about that assignment you’ve been working on?” Mum picked up a magazine and started flicking through it. “You’re away with your thoughts tonight, Immy.”

  I stretched my legs out in front of me. “Mmm?” I said, “Nah, it’s just, I’m just, uh, just thinking about what I’ve got coming up next week, that’s all.”

  “You’re not worried about any of it, are you?” Mum patted my outstretched leg.

  I smiled.

  “No, not worried.”

  Mum lowered her voice as Dad continued staring at the programme on the TV. “You’ve been awful quiet lately.”

  “Have I?” I shrugged. “I don’t mean to be.”

  “Everything all right with Matt?”

  “Fine, yeah.” I nodded, probably more enthusiastically than was required.

  “And you’d tell me if there was anything, wouldn’t you?”

  “No.” I laughed, then, “Yes, of course. There’s nothing, honest.”

  What could I say to Mum? That I was thinking about dumping my doting boyfriend because I was having feelings for a girl I’d only just met on the Internet? Yeah, that’d go down well!

  I sure as hell couldn’t tell her that I thought I might be gay. Now that definitely wouldn’t go down well! I’ll be honest here and say that gayness is not the kind of subject that my family regularly talk about around the dining table of an evening. Of course, I’ve thought about hardly anything but gayness over the last few weeks, and I’ve often thought that Mum would be okay with it. Not Dad.

  I’d hate to use the word homophobic to describe Dad, but it doesn’t sit comfortably with him, Dad being the sort who would get up and leave the room if there’s something remotely gay on the TV, rather than actually having to watch it.

  But that’s his problem, not mine or anyone else’s. Right?

  It didn’t make the thought of broaching the subject with them any easier, though. I sat and stared into space, ignoring the TV programme, and tried to figure out the best thing to do. The one thing I did know for sure was that if I was to sort out the confusion in my head, then I needed to finish with Matt, however horrible it was going to be. I needed to be prepared for the questions that would follow too, questions from Mum and Dad, as well as Emily and Beth, both of whom would think I was totally mad.

  I sighed, earning another sideways glance from Mum. Finishing with Matt was going to be the hardest thing I’d probably ever have to do, but I knew it needed to be done, both for his sake and mine. How could I be sure what it was I wanted, or what it was I thought I might be? I needed to be 100 percent sure I was gay, and the only way to find that out was to try and get to know Fickle better. I couldn’t do that while I was still seeing Matt. I needed to be true to myself, right? Maybe I was seeing Fickle as a way out of my dead-end relationship with Matt, or maybe I was just fascinated by her and was reading her friendliness as flirting. One thing was for sure, though. Unless I cranked it up a gear and found out for myself, I’d never know.

  I looked at my watch; it was a little after ten p.m. Suddenly needing to talk to someone, I made my excuses and wandered back up to my room, firing up the computer, hoping that either Twiggy or Joey might be around, hoping even more that they wouldn’t mind lending me an ear for an hour or so. To my relief I saw that Joey was online, chatting to someone on the message board about the previous week’s episode of Lovers and Sinners. I grinned. A dose of Joey was just what I needed.

  Barnaby Rudge: Hey Joe!

  Joey: Hey, chick! How’s tricks?

  Barnaby Rudge: Not bad, not bad. You?

  Joey: Yeah, cool. I was just telling SpyderWoman that next week’s L&S is on Thursday, not Wednesday.

  Barnaby Rudge: Ah right. Thanks, I didn’t know.

  Joey: No probs. Do you know, SpyderWoman’s real name is Cynthia. I mean, who’s called Cynthia anymore??

  Barnaby Rudge: She sure doesn’t talk like a Cynthia. LMAO!!

  Joey: I’m really Joanna, btw. Now can you see why I prefer Joey? LOL

  Barnaby Rudge: Uh, yeah I can, Joe! Sorry!

  Joey: What’s your name?

  Barnaby Rudge: Imogen—Immy.

  Joey: My neighbour’s got a guinea pig called Immy.

  Barnaby Rudge: Is that your useless fact for the day?

  Joey: Cheeky bugger! Anyway, how’re you? You having a good day?

  Barnaby Rudge: Yeah, apart from having to entertain my Aunty Julia. She came over for lunch today.

  Joey: Eek! Whatchoo do to entertain her? Balance a ball on your nose? Give her your paw?

  Barnaby Rudge: Funny! Nah, just had to bat away questions about my love life.

  Joey: Shudder! Been there, done that. I sympathise!

  A pause ensued.

  Joey: So how are things going with Fickle? You come onto her yet?!

  Barnaby Rudge: No!! I’ve never come onto anyone in my life! Wouldn’t know what to do, Joe.

  Joey: You can drop her some subtle hints, though, see if she bites, so to speak.

  Barnaby Rudge: Like flirt with her, you mean?

  Joey: That’s exactly what I mean!

  Barnaby Rudge: I could try, I suppose. What if I’ve been reading her all wrong, though, and she doesn’t like me like that?

  Joey: Well, she must have given you some encouragement, otherwise you wouldn’t say you think she’s flirty with you. What sort of things does she do?

  Barnaby Rudge: Hmm, dunno. Lots of winking, she tells me she misses me when I’m not here, she texted me today and asked me to get online ’cos she said she was lonely without me.

  Joey: Flllliiiiiiiiiiiirt Alerrrrrrrrrt! Yeah, that’s kinda flirty, isn’t it?!

  Barnaby Rudge: So it’s not my imagination?

  Joey: Well, unless she’s like that with everyone, male and female, I’d say she was flirting. I mean, you don’t tell people you miss them and you don’t wink at them unless you want to let them know you’re being flirtatious. Just my opinion, kiddo.

  Barnaby Rudge: I really like her, Joe. It’s proper messing with my head, all this.

  Joey: I bet.

  Barnaby Rudge: Yeah, #groan#. I’m still confused about why I slept with my boyfriend too.

  Joey: You still don’t know what to do, then?

  Barnaby Rudge: No…I still wanna finish with him, which is why sleeping with him was all the more mashed up.

  Joey: So why DID you sleep with him?

  Barnaby Rudge: You tell me, Joe! Maybe I wanted to see if it sparked anything off, some sort of feelings towards him, I dunno.

  Joey: But you said that it didn’t?

  Barnaby Rudge: Nope. It just made me feel ashamed of myself.

  Joey: Ashamed?

  Barnaby Rudge: For using him. I think I did it as a knee-jerk reaction ’cos Fickle had just told me she was meeting her ex for a drink.

  Joey: Blimey! I can see why you’re confused! Although I wouldn’t feel too guilty about using him, Immy. He’s a man; he wouldn’t have felt used! For him it was just sex.

  Barnaby Rudge: But it’s, like, totally stoopid, isn’t it? Sleeping with someone I’m planning to dump just ’cos someone I’ve never met but fancy the arse off just happens to go out with her ex-girlfriend for a drink.

  Joey: And I’m sure there’ll be plenty of guys and girls all up and down the country who’ve done something similar, trust me! It’s just called being confused.

  Barnaby Rudge: And I am gonna finish with Matt. It’s just�
��it’s hard, isn’t it?

  Joey: And not a very nice thing to do. I know, it’s tough, isn’t it?

  Barnaby Rudge: And it’s like, having to explain to everyone why I did it. That’s what I’m dreading.

  Joey: Well, at the end of the day it’s nothing to do with anyone else. It’s your life, your decision. But if you ask me, you can’t even begin to get your head around the whole Fickle thing as long as you’re still with your boyfriend, being eaten up with guilt about it all. So I guess either you stay with your boyfriend, not getting much out of being with him, and forget all about Fickle, or you finish with him and turn your whole attention to her.

  Barnaby Rudge: That’s what I’ve been thinking. I can’t forget her, Joe. I can’t stop thinking about her! It’s all I do from the moment I wake up until the second I fall asleep at night, and then I even sometimes bloody well dream about her! She’s in my head 24 / 7 and it’s killing me!

  Joey: Sounds like you got it bad.

  Barnaby Rudge: I think I have. I feel miserable when she’s not ‘around’ on MSN and then I feel like my heart’s gonna burst with joy whenever she’s online. She makes me happy and she’s all I ever think about, all day at college all I can think about is her, what she’s doing, where she is, and then I can’t wait to get home and talk to her on MSN. Or, like, if my phone beeps and I see it’s her sending me a text, it makes me feel soooo happy! Is that crazy?

  Joey: No, it’s not crazy, kiddo. I think it’s what they commonly call Fancying Someone.

  Barnaby Rudge: But it feels great and shitty at the same time. What’s that all about?!

  Joey: Welcome to the world of loopy-love bunnies! LOL. It’s just crap when you’re so into someone but you don’t know how they feel, and you don’t know what to do about it, isn’t it?

  Barnaby Rudge: Like with you and your best friend?

  Joey: Exactamundo. Listen, kiddles, I gotta go, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get some sleep.

  Barnaby Rudge: No worries, Joe.

  Joey: I’m off on a field trip with college tomorrow to Scotland until Friday. The minibus leaves at six in the morning, then a ten-hour coach drive. Yuk!

  Barnaby Rudge: So you don’t live near Scotland, then? LOL!

  Joey: Very astute, Imms! Nah, I live in a town called Abingdon. It’s in Oxfordshire, so hence the ten-hour drive!

  Barnaby Rudge: No shit? I live in Oxford! I’m only about 10 miles from you, thassall!

  Joey: LMAO, really? It’s a small world innit, kiddo?!

  Barnaby Rudge: Too right it is! So you’re gonna be away all week, then?

  Joey: ’Fraid so.

  This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was kinda hoping Joey might be around to guide me through what I had a feeling was going to be the week from hell for me.

  Barnaby Rudge: Well, have a good one won’t you, Joe?

  Joey: I’ll try. Hey, look, here’s my mobile number. Text me if things get too heavy, yeah?

  Joey typed up her phone number and I jotted it down quickly. I’d use it too. I was sure of that.

  Barnaby Rudge: I’ll try not to bother you too much!

  Joey: It’ll probably be a welcome distraction from studying amoeba in some murky Scottish loch!!

  After we’d said our good-byes and Joey had logged off, I hung around online for a while, secretly hoping that Fickle might log on briefly before bed. I glanced down at my mobile and remembered what Joey had just said about perhaps giving Fickle the come-on, let her know I was interested. I wondered if I should text Fickle, say to her some of the things she says to me; tell her I missed her, that I wanted her to come online and talk to me. Then I remembered Matt and I felt the familiar sinking feeling in my heart, as I always seemed to when I thought about him.

  Joey was right. There was no way I could even begin to think about letting Fickle know I liked her until I did something about Matt. I looked down at my phone again and without really knowing what I was going to say to him, dialled his number, my heart thumping wildly in my neck.

  Chapter Nine

  “It sounded urgent on the phone.” Matt frowned across the table at me the next night. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

  I’d met Matt at our favourite local café, where you could get a burger, chips, and drink for under a fiver, so it did us quite nicely. It was nothing special, more the sort of place where if you wanted to know what else was on the menu, you just had to look at the stains on the cook’s apron. You know the sort of place.

  I looked over at Matt, taking in every detail of his face. I tried, for the last time, to find some spark inside me, something that might stop me from doing what I was about to do. But there was nothing. No lust, no fancying, no love. Genuine affection, sure, but no fireworks, no fire at all. Nothing that came even close to what Fickle ignited inside me.

  I watched as Matt picked off a chunk of burger roll and shoved it into his mouth.

  “It’s not urgent, nothing’s wrong.” An image of Matt’s face looming over mine, just as it had done the night we slept together, entered my head, making the skin on the back of my neck prickle. “Well, kinda wrong, but everything’s okay. At least I think it is. Well, it will be. I hope so, anyway.” I was stuttering now. “I just need to talk to you, Matt.” I heard myself sighing at him.

  “Okaaaay.” Matt squinted, peering at me quizzically. He put down his burger and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I think I know what this is about.” He nodded.

  “You do?” I frowned at him.

  “It’s about the other night, isn’t it?” Matt reached for his drink and took a sip, watching me carefully over the rim of the glass.

  “What about the other night?”

  “You regret it, don’t you? I was getting vibes off you even before I’d left the house.”

  I hesitated, thinking about what I was going to say next.

  “You wish you’d never done it, I think.” Matt pursed his lips.

  “I do,” I said slowly, feeling grateful to Matt for leading me into this conversation, so that I didn’t have to kinda start from scratch.

  Matt nodded and picked up his burger again, biting a chunk from it. I looked down at my own, half-eaten burger. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm me.

  “I hope you don’t think I forced you into anything, but you kinda seemed up for it when I came round.” He shrugged. “I love you, Immy, and you love me, and it’s what people in love do. Simple.”

  He loved me? Worse than that, he thought that I loved him too? I stared at him, kinda dumbstruck.

  “You do realise that I love you, don’t you, Immy?” Matt reached over and took my hand, stroking the palm of my hand with his thumb. “I guess I should tell you more often than I do, but it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? That we’re made for each other.”

  I guessed it was now or never.

  Taking a deep breath, I slowly said, “I do wish I hadn’t slept with you, yes, and I’m sorry for that,” and watched as Matt blithely stabbed up some chips with his fork. “And I kinda…I kinda don’t want to do this anymore either.”

  Matt’s head sprang up and he stared straight at me. “Don’t want to do what anymore?”

  “This,” I said feebly. “Us.”

  “Eh?” Matt frowned. “What do you mean?”

  I tried not to sigh, wondering just how blunt I needed to be before he got the message, but before I’d even answered, the look on his face told me that the penny might finally be dropping.

  “Wait a minute. I don’t understand where all this is coming from. I thought you meant you just weren’t ready to sleep with me. I was fine with that,” he said. “I didn’t think you wanted us to split up!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly thinking what an insipid, crap word “sorry” can be in situations such as these.

  “Sorry? So you’re actually going to dump me?” I heard the words choke in his throat as he said them.

  Silence. What could I say?

  “Jesus, Immy! You’re kiddi
ng me, right? Tell me you’re joking, for shit’s sake!”

  “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry.” I reached over and took his hand again, not sure what else to do.

  He snatched his hand from mine and shoved back in his chair, turning his head to stare out the window, like a petulant child.

  “It happens,” I added, probably not very helpfully.

  He turned and looked back at me. “Not to me, it doesn’t,” he said.

  That kinda pissed me off, I dunno why.

  “But I love you,” he said. “I’ve proper fallen for you, you know?”

  Another silence.

  “So…you don’t love me?” Pain threaded through Matt’s tone.

  I shook my head, just wanting this to be over. “I do like you, Matt, I do. It’s just, I dunno.”

  “Just liking me’s not enough?” Matt’s voice began to rise, while his face looked like it might crumple at any moment, and I suddenly thought how awful it might be if he started crying.

  I shook my head again.

  Matt picked up his napkin and stared at it, turning it over and over in his hands. “I don’t understand where this has come from.”

  “It’s not you, Matt. It’s me,” I said quietly, cringing at the cliché, even though it was a cliché that was actually true for once.