me@you.com Page 9

  Matt robotically shredded the napkin, as if unaware of his actions. “How long have you felt like this, Immy?”

  “A while.”

  “You should have said you weren’t happy!” Matt’s voice rose again, and people looked over at us, curiously.

  I desperately wished this were over so I could get the hell out of that damn café. “I just did,” I replied, probably more sharply than he deserved.

  “So who is he, then?” Matt’s voice was still louder than I wanted it to be.

  I blinked, confused. “What?” My face flamed with embarrassment.

  “There must be someone else.” Matt leant closer. “That dickhead from your economics class, I knew he fancied you.”

  I leant back in my chair and ran my hand through my hair, staring across the table and resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “There’s no one else,” I lied. “You and me just doesn’t feel right, thassall.”

  “Bollocks!” Matt angrily shoved his plate away, his fork spiralling off the edge and clattering onto the table.

  “You’re a really nice guy, Matt.” I paused. Swallowed. “And you deserve someone better than me, someone who…values that.”

  “Fine.” He suddenly rose from his chair, scraping it back so loudly that the couple sitting across from us turned in unison to gape. He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a tattered-looking £10 note, flinging it, still crumpled up, onto the table. “Dinner’s on me.” He yanked his coat from the chair and stalked from the café without so much as a backward glance.

  Part of me shuddered with relief. The other cringed with embarrassment. I stayed at the table, staring at the crumpled £10 note without really seeing it. I sensed the couple on the next table still sneaking surreptitious glances, evidently clear about what had just happened, and decided to stay where I was a while longer, trying to look as casual as possible.

  Was that it, then? Had I finally done it? A small surge of relief inside me mixed in with gut-wrenching guilt, and I prayed that Matt wouldn’t come back to the table to talk more. I suppose part of me felt surprised at how readily he’d accepted it and, if I’m honest, a bit peeved that he didn’t put up more of a fight, but I supposed that had to be an ego thing.

  But I had done it, yeah. I’d finished with Matt and, yes, the sense of release felt amazing. However, it had been the most toe-curlingly awful thing I’d ever done in my life. I wondered where Matt had gone, wondered briefly if I should go and find him, but my head told me to leave him alone. I finally summoned the courage to look around, feeling just a bit lost, not wanting to leave the café for whatever dumb reason, then slowly ate the rest of my burger, feeling the waves of nausea that had seemed to have lived with me for weeks gradually start to disappear.

  *

  I walked home alone, of course, over the canal bridge that Matt normally walked me to, and felt…well…nothing really. I wondered if Matt might ring or text me, ask to see me again, to talk things over, but he didn’t. Thank God. The last thing I wanted was to see him and go over everything again. As far as I was concerned, I’d done what I’d wanted to do for ages; now all I wanted was go home and not have to think about anything for the next few hours.

  As I stepped into the house, I peered briefly at my phone to see if there were any messages. Nothing. I poked my head around the corner of the lounge door but all I could see was Sophie sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, legs tucked up under her, deep in conversation with someone on her mobile phone. She looked up when she saw me but didn’t acknowledge my presence, choosing instead to carry on her conversation about “how fit Brett McManus is and, like, did you know he, like, totally looked at me today”.

  I rolled my eyes and retreated to the kitchen, finding Mum sitting at the breakfast bar reading the daily paper. She looked up and smiled at me when she saw me and pushed the newspaper away from her a little way.

  “I’ve sought refuge in here.” She grinned. “Your sister’s on the phone to Rhian and I couldn’t bear to have to listen to her talking about Brett McManus a minute longer.” She patted the stool next to her. “How was your evening?” she asked as I lifted myself up onto the stool and leant my elbows on the breakfast bar.

  “Yeah, all right.” I pulled my hands through my hair and sighed.

  “As good as that?”

  I looked at her from the corner of my eye.

  “Me and Matt aren’t seeing each other anymore,” I said, waiting for her reaction.

  “Oh?” she sounded surprised. “That’s a shame. He’s a nice boy. I liked him.”

  “Mmm.” I nodded slowly.

  “Did you have an argument? It’ll blow over, it always does.” Mum put her hand on my arm. “You’ll see, he’ll be all apologies tomorrow, they always are.”

  “We didn’t have an argument.” I turned my head briefly as I heard my phone beep somewhere out in the hall.

  “And that’ll be him, mark my words.” Mum jerked her head towards the door. “Texting to tell you he loves you.” She smiled softly.

  “It was me that finished with him,” I said simply, staring down at my hands in front of me.

  “You finished with him?” Mum repeated, her brow knitting. “Why?”

  “Just…’cos.”

  “You finished what?” Sophie’s voice sounded from the doorway.

  “Nothing, Sophie. Immy’s just not seeing Matt anymore, that’s all,” Mum said, looking sympathetically at me and patting my arm, as if my hamster had just died or something. I don’t even have a bloody hamster.

  “You did what?” Sophie gaped incredulously at me.

  “You heard,” I snapped back at her.

  “Er, like, why?” Sophie raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips.

  “Er, like, ’cos I wanted to,” I replied sarcastically.

  “Er, ’cos you wanted to? Do you know how many girls want to date Matt? You’re crazy, you are.”

  Wasn’t that enough reason? I suddenly felt like an animal trapped in a cage, having to justify myself to my idiot younger sister.

  “I have my reasons.” I stared down at my hands.

  “But he’s buff, man.” Sophie still had her fists on her hips.

  “Buff? Man? What freaking language are you speaking, you jerk?” I glowered at Sophie.

  “Immy,” Mum warned, still managing to glare at both me and Sophie.

  “And what freaking planet are you on, you jerk, if you think dumping a guy like Matt is a wise move?” Sophie waved a dismissive hand at me.

  “Fuck you, idiot,” I muttered under my breath, staring petulantly into the distance.

  The abrupt scrape of Mum’s stool across the kitchen floor made me jump as she stepped down from it and stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Enough.” She ushered Sophie back out of the room, muttering something to her before turning back to me. “Immy, I’m sure you had your reasons for ending things with Matt, but whatever they were, don’t go taking it out on Sophie, okay?”

  “Sure,” I replied, getting down from my stool and brushing past her into the hall. I grabbed my phone and flipped it open as I walked up the stairs to my room, grinning with relief as I saw it was from Joey and not Matt. I’d texted Joey earlier in the day, wishing her a safe journey up to Scotland. I guessed she’d arrived safely when I saw that her text just said:

  Och aye and a hoo, hoo, hoo from bonny Scotland.

  I sent her a quick message back, asking her how she was and that, oh yeah, I’d just broken up with Matt. Then I sent Fickle a text too, writing some silly message to her, hoping that we might have a silly, flirty text conversation for the rest of the evening. I flopped myself down on my bed and stretched out, waiting for her to reply, but only Joey sent me a text, just asking me if I was okay. I thought I was probably a lot better than Matt, then kinda lay there for a bit thinking about him, wondering how he was, and thinking I ought to text him, see how he was.

  I didn’t.

  Instead I waited for ages for Fickle to text me
back, looking at my phone over and over again, in case I hadn’t heard it. When I still hadn’t heard from her after an hour, I sent a text back to Joey telling her not to drink too much Scotch whisky and went to bed, my mind swirling with images of Matt, flinging his tattered money at me across the table and stalking out of my life for the last time.

  Chapter Ten

  I suffered an awful night’s sleep, turning stuff over and over in my head, wondering if I’d done the right thing, worrying that I was turning into the bitch from hell because I’d dumped Matt so coldheartedly, then hadn’t bothered to try and find out how he was handling it.

  I couldn’t face yet more snide remarks from Sophie at the table, so I skipped breakfast altogether, choosing to sneak out of the house before anyone could realise I was up and about. I switched on my phone as I was walking into college, kinda still wondering if Matt might have texted me, but more desperately hoping Fickle had sent me a message instead.

  She had.

  I felt my heart jump as I saw her name appear and stopped walking for a second, just enjoying the sight of her name sitting there in my in-box, waiting for me.

  Fickle.

  I clicked on her message and giggled as I read it, her message just saying, Hey you! Soz 4 late reply. H8 2 keep a girl w8ing, specially u! U OK? Hv a gd day, F xxxxxxx

  I sent her one back telling her to have a good day as well, and kinda didn’t expect to hear back from her all day, so when another one came back from her just as I was getting to college, I suddenly felt like my day was going to be a really good one. It just said,

  Day just got better hearing from u! Be on MSN l8r? Missing u xxxxx

  And suddenly, you know, I reckoned I’d done the right thing ending it with Matt. I read her messages again. This couldn’t be anything other than flirting, could it? Why else would she say to me she hated to keep me waiting, and that she missed me? She wouldn’t do that unless she was giving me the come-on, surely? I hugged myself, suddenly feeling real happy, knowing that later I’d get to do the only thing that seemed to matter in my life right now: spend the evening talking to Fickle.

  Still pumped, I turned into the college canteen and, seeing Emily nursing a hot cup of coffee in the corner, grabbed myself a cappuccino and headed over to join her. She held up her hand in front of her when she saw me coming and looked at me through bleary eyes.

  “Hangover from hell. Sit down but puh-lease don’t speak too loud at me ’cos I’m likely to spontaneously combust.” She put her head in her hands and groaned softly.

  “That’ll teach you.” I scraped my chair back and chuckled as I saw her wince behind her hands.

  “Never again, I’m telling you! If I ever tell you I’m hitting the town with Naomi Watson again, just shoot me, right?”

  “I could shoot you now.” I peered at her. “You look like you need putting out of your misery.”

  Emily drank a little of her coffee and grimaced. “You’re a pal.” She grinned sarcastically at me. “You doing well, anyway? Not seen you around for a while.”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I replied, taking a sip from my steaming cappuccino. “Just been busy, you know how it is.” I mock rolled my eyes at her.

  “Tell me about it.” Emily scratched irritably at her eyes. “I’ve got, like, three assignments due by the end of the week. It’s worse than being at school here, sometimes.”

  “And yet you still thought to go out and get splattered last night?” I sat back and folded my arms, trying to look as sanctimonious as I could.

  “Pff, you’re only young once, that’s what I say.” Emily laughed then winced, cradling her head in her hands like it was a piece of fragile porcelain.

  I turned my head as I heard some people clatter noisily through the door of the canteen, bringing a blast of cold air from outside in with them and saw, in amongst the group, Matt, skulking somewhere near the back of the group, head bent, texting away on his phone.

  Terrific. The very day I really didn’t want to see Matt and he was there. I tried making myself smaller in my seat, kinda slumping down slightly, hoping he wouldn’t see me. I took a sideways glance at him and saw he was still texting, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other wrapped round his mobile, thumb bouncing up and down off the buttons. His hair was down over his eyes, the way he always liked to have it, so I couldn’t see his face. I kinda wanted to see what sort of expression he had on his face, I don’t know why.

  Just as I was looking at him, he looked up from his phone and stared right back at me, making me quickly drop my eyes and stare back at Emily, probably making me look a bit like a startled deer.

  “Isn’t that Matt?” Emily was still cradling her head in her hands and now looked across the canteen through her fingers. “Get him over if you like. I won’t mind.”

  “No,” I said, probably more sharply than I should have done. “It’s cool.” I fussed about with my bag, pretending to look for something.

  “Hmm, he’s gone anyway.” Emily was straining to see. “Maybe he didn’t see us.”

  “He did, that’s why he went the other way.” I sipped at my coffee.

  “Trouble?” Emily raised her eyebrows.

  “Yup.” I took another sip. “I, er, I kinda ended it with him last night.”

  Emily took her hands away from her head and stared at me.

  “No shitting me?”

  I shook my head.

  “Blimey, Immy.” Emily gingerly picked up her coffee cup and nursed it in both hands. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Not really.” I laughed. “It was the right thing to do—for me, anyway—but it still doesn’t make it easier, does it?”

  “Breaking up is hard to do, as Neil Diamond once sang.” Emily nodded and grimaced.

  “It was Neil Sedaka, wasn’t it?” I frowned.

  “Whatever. Neil Diamond, Neil Sedaka, Neil Armstrong: who gives a shit? Still bloody tough, isn’t it?” Emily pulled a face.

  “It is. It was.” I sighed, casting an eye round the canteen on the lookout for Matt.

  “How did he take it?” Emily put her coffee cup back down and leant back in her chair.

  “As well as could be expected, I suppose,” I said. “He said he couldn’t understand why, then told me he thought we were in it for the long run, then paid for dinner and left.” I laughed slightly self-consciously.

  “But you didn’t see you as being in it for the long run?” Emily asked.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t, no. I hadn’t been getting anything from ‘us’ for a while, so kinda thought, what’s the point?”

  “Seems a shame. I always thought you made a cute couple.” Emily raised an eyebrow.

  “Nah.” I shook my head again. “I mean, he’s lovely, don’t get me wrong. But I think he’ll be happier with someone else. Someone that appreciates him more than I can.”

  “Like Beth?” Emily suggested. “She’ll be after him now, you just watch.”

  I shrugged.

  “Sorry.” Emily leant across the table and grabbed my hand. “That was insensitive.”

  “But she can go after him!” I implored Emily. “That’s just it, I really don’t mind.”

  And I didn’t. In fact, a small part of me really hoped that Beth would go after Matt. At least it might stop me feeling so guilty about everything.

  I heard my phone beep from somewhere in my bag and leant down to fish it out, catching sight of Matt leaving the canteen again as I did so. He looked over to where Emily and I were sitting, but nothing registered on his face; instead he carried on walking out through the door as if he’d never seen us at all.

  “Matt?” Emily jerked her chin towards my phone.

  I read the message.

  “No, not Matt,” I said, as casually as I could.

  It was another message from Fickle, and when I read it, her telling me she was thinking about me, it was all I could do to stop the biggest, stupidest grin from spreading across my face.

  *

  The next few days w
ent in a bit of a blur. Thankfully I managed to avoid seeing Matt again, but the gossip-mongers at my college had evidently been hard at work, as, by the Thursday, at least two different girls from my Maths group, neither of whom I knew particularly well, nor wanted to, asked me if it was true what they’d heard about me and Matt.

  When a third girl asked me the same question, shortly before my last lesson of the day, I sent a curt text to Emily asking her, Just how many peeps have u told ’bout me & Matt? to which she replied, None. If peeps know it’s ’cos Matt’s a popular guy. Nothing 2do with me. I thought about replying, but figured she was probably right. News travels fast, especially when the subject of that news happened to be one of the hottest guys in the college. That would be the hottest guy I’d just dumped, then.

  I went straight to my room when I got home, resisting the temptation to go onto the message board, even though I knew what I needed was a pick-me-up from the people on there. I put the finishing touches to a couple of assignments, all the while my mind on MSN and Fickle, hoping she’d be around when I finally finished my college work and felt I’d done enough studying to allow myself time on MSN.

  She was already there when I eventually signed in, and I felt the familiar flutter of excitement in my tummy the minute I saw her name.

  Fickle: At last! Pleeeease save me from the boredom that is Daisy2011!

  Barnaby Rudge: LMAO! She boring you rigid?

  Fickle: She’s telling me about her dog #yaaaaawn#.

  Barnaby Rudge: Aw, don’t be tight!

  Fickle: You wanna talk to her?

  Barnaby Rudge: Nah, you’re all right.

  Fickle: Exactly! Chicken! Wait, I’m gonna tell her someone MUCH more interesting has turned up for me to talk to.

  She put a winking sign after that and I felt my heart flip.

  Barnaby Rudge: Don’t tell her that!