Awakening

“Nick,” I announced with a slight hint of giddiness in my voice. “I haven’t told you something.”

“What?” He chimed, half-focused on the episode of Friday Night Dinner we had playing on my Chromebook in the background. “What’s your deep and dark secret, Jasmine?”

I smiled to myself softly. I need to mention something different to the situation with Louis. Nick tapped to pause Friday Night Dinner and turned to me, curious about my ‘deep and dark secret’. It wasn’t that dark or deep. I just never shared it. It’s something I treasured since the last days of primary school. I clicked on my phone and glanced. The date ‘Thursday, the 28th of August’ shimmered from the small, white font on my home screen. Sixth form was imminent. Doing A levels was imminent. Adulting too. But all I was thinking about was seeing my boyfriend. Louis, the man I cherished above anything and I had numerous questions to ask him. Where he went was one of them.

“Louis was not my first kiss,” I revealed. The tangy anticipation of exposing a long-hidden secret, culminating on my tongue. It wasn’t a scandal or anything. Just too special to share.

“Oh, I know that,” Nick responded, hitting the air with his hand. His recently painted neon orange nails. “You kissed Shelly Hanson in Year 8.” Fuck, not Shelly Hanson. She’s a piece of shit.

“That doesn’t count,” I argued, vehemently like I was debating in the History society I was in. “It was spin the bottle and I wasn’t attracted to Shelly Hanson. I get she’s pretty and I admit she’s a good kisser.” Obviously, begrudgingly.

“Oh, so Louis is not the first person who you’re attracted to who you kissed?” Nick raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Yep.”

“Who’s the lucky boy? Or girl?” Nick chimed. Becoming curious. Why does he mention ‘girl’? I am straight.

“I only bat for the boys,” I smiled but my internal conflict had re-emerged. The internal conflict of wondering whether I wanted to sassily strut through the hotel corridors like Amy Winehouse in the ‘In My Bed’ music video or whether I was gazing at the scarlet tint on her lips and adorable expressions like it was all-consuming. Or another side of the internal conflict when bra-shopping in M&S and walking through a forest of underwear models on banners and questioning whether I was perving over them. Admiring their lucid smiles and the delicate curves of their silhouettes. Or it was not like I was too shy to talk to a girl in my Maths class because I heavily admired her intelligence and just craved the dopamine pumping through my blood that her presence elicited.

“Who is he?” Nick interrogated.

I looked in his curious eyes and admitted, “Charlie.”

“Oh so you kissed the gross boy, Charlie Stowe,” Nick teased.

“Fuck off,” I shoved him, jokingly, before in a slightly hushed voice, said, “No, you know the one. Charlie Wang. I had a huge crush on him in like Year 5 and maybe Year 6.” Oh fuck, a flushing feeling is washing over. I really still possess an inability to speak his name without reminding myself how much I fancied him. Jas, you have a proper boyfriend now.

“Oh, I’m just teasing,” Nick clarified, “I knew it would have been them. You were super crushing on them like many of the girls in our year.”

“Yeah, ever since he drew skids in some mean boys’ boxer,” I downplayed but a slight giggle escaped.

“That was in Year Three,” Nick gave me a loving stare. “They clearly still make you laugh.”

“Fine,” I hazily rolled my eyes. “It was in Year Three but it started the term after the Easter holidays. Counts as Year Four in my eyes. You know when the boys were chanting a rude rhyme about my weight and me having skids in my underwear?”

“Yeah,” Nick listened intently, putting his glass of water to his lips.

“He drew skids in their underwear during swimming lessons as payback. I got to give it to him because it was brilliant payback. The rest of the boys made fun of that twat for the rest of the week. I suspected it was him for a while. Turns out I was right. He confirmed that at the leavers’ disco. He didn’t like how the boys were bullying me.”

“You kissed them at the leavers’ party?” Nick sprayed some water at me from his mouth and a bit on my pyjama top.

“Yeah,” I continued, blinking away the water. Before I gave up and pulled a tissue from the green Kleenex box. “We were dancing together and he suggested we hide in one of the bushes. So we did that in the squash break. It was quite romantic.” I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Sitting on dirt with bird defecation on the leaves,” Nick mentioned, quietly and very sarcastically. Raising his eyebrows which immediately made me laugh hysterically.

“Yeah,” I teasingly stared at him, “But it was back in the days when a boy cared about me.”

“I care about you and I’m a boy,” Nick replied. Suddenly the laughter ceased and insecurity walked back in. Throwback to this morning, starfished on my bed, the duvet half-arsed on me, marking the ninth day ghosted. The silky trills of Fiona Apple’s ‘The First Taste’ playing in the background. Oh, how I wanted to be incorporated in my mattress so I stop feeling shit.

“You know what I mean,” I gulped. The tide of doubt heightening. “When boys were attracted to me.”

“Yeah, I was just joking,” Nick uttered and then he profusely reassuring me, said, “I know you didn’t mean that. Look, Jas, you will start sixth form next week. You have Louis. He’s attracted to you I hope.” Mouth moving like he had shit to say before giving up, closing it firmly and assured me that it was nothing. It’s not nothing. It’s all he heard from me all week because it’s dominating my mind. I just want to be loved.

“He hasn’t texted me for a week,” I vented. My throat had dried out again and the ball of insecurity had congregated in my throat again. “I don’t know what I said but he’s not replied to me. I’ve followed up and all that. I even tried calling him yesterday. Ugh, I don’t know what I’ve done to warrant that behaviour.” I hugged my knees and rested one side of my face on them.

“Maybe you’ve done nothing, babes,” Nick said, “People ghost each other. It’s life in a technological era. I mean I forgot to reply to Leon a couple of times.” His face dropped. Was he over him? He never tells me. They broke up in April and Nick’s just so reserved sometimes.

“I guess,” I shrugged. Clearly still fucking confused. “It’s just a bit weird that Louis is my boyfriend and he can’t even reply to my text. I wonder if I’m enough.”

Nick snapped back to his usual self. It was like he turned off those thoughts about Leon but a sort of air still persisted. “You are enough, Jasmine. Louis, well I don’t think much of him but he’s acting like a bad boyfriend. Please tell him what you need. Don’t be afraid to criticise.”

“You’re right,” I said, confidence sparked in my voice. I cajoled, “You know the kiss.” Then placed my hand on my lips.

“Oh, that one,” Nick gave me this look, confirming he knows I’m a bit obsessed. What? It’s not my fault I’m feeling nostalgic. “Your awakening to the world of intimacy.”

“Yeah,” I pulled a face, “Were you surprised?”

“Not at all. Charlie, for the nutter they were, they were a nice person. Plus I’m lucky to know you. You have such an attractive personality.”

“And an attractive body?” I immediately followed up.

“Yeah, of course,” Nick emphasised, “I might be solely attracted to men. Sigh. But I see it. See, you’re not thinking as much about your subpar man.”

My eyes twinkled. I wish shit was the way it was. Not my days being elongated waiting for WhatsApp notifications or any appearance of Louis. Still I relish not thinking of him even if I am absolutely deluded. A break from overthinking about what you are to your boyfriend is what I needed now and continue to need.