I used to be that girl. I’d lost her somewhere around the age of eighteen. I guess heartbreak can do that to a person. The level of caution when entering, or considering entering, something new gets higher with each terrible experience. Being carefree wasn’t an option anymore. I owed it to myself to guard my already dented heart.
A blue Renault Clio turned into my street, and this time, my heart rate increase was justified as I spotted Logan in the driver’s seat. His thick blond hair was a little scruffy, probably because he’d just stumbled out of bed and into the car, and the sight of him all tousled caused my breath to catch in my throat.
Seriously, breathe.
Inhaling and exhaling very slowly to blow out the last of my nerves, I gave myself a mini pep talk about how I shouldn’t hang too many – or any – hopes on this road trip then smiled as I walked around the side of the car and opened the passenger door.
The moment I settled myself in the passenger seat my nerves vanished. Honestly, I was sure ninety percent of my anxiousness came from the belief that Logan wouldn’t show up and I’d be left on the street corner, waiting, like the world’s unluckiest hooker.
But he did show up.
“Morning,” I said, brightly. “First stop coffee?”
Logan chuckled. “Maybe not just yet. But soon.”
Our first stop wasn’t for two hours, but that was okay with me. The time flew by as Logan and I chatted non-stop. For the whole first part of the journey, I couldn’t help the tiny part of my brain that censored my words before I spoke. Logan was about as laid back as a person could be, and I doubted there was much I could say that would make him wish he’d taken someone else, but my self-consciousness was running the show. It lessened along the way, though, and by the time we reached our stopping point I felt a little less like I was in over my head.
When we’d got our drinks and I’d had a few sips of the caffeine heaven in my hand, we found a vacant bench outside the service station and sat down, stretching out our legs and enjoying the freedom to move around a little.
“Early mornings aren’t your thing, are they?” Logan asked, watching me guzzle my latte, an amused grin spreading across his face.
I shook my head. “Not really. It’s not like I sleep until lunchtime every day, but at the time you picked me up, I’m usually on my second cup of tea, catching up on Facebook in bed. It is Saturday, after all. Besides,” I added with a smirk, “you look pretty relieved to be having coffee too.”
“Oh, I am. Getting up so early is unheard of for me at the weekend, but when you get the chance to see some great bands, you have to go for it.”
“Agreed.” A weird rippling sensation in my stomach made me almost drop my drink; he asked me to go with him!! Forcing my dorkiness in check and reminding myself I was an adult and not a fifteen-year-old, I smiled again. “This is going to be a good day.”
“Anyone you’re particularly looking forward to seeing?”
I reeled off a few band names then added, “Mostly I’m glad to be doing something other than watching re-runs of Mock The Week on YouTube. You’ve saved me from lazing around and whining about how dull my life is.”
I gave him a grin over the rim of my coffee cup to cover up the fact that I wasn’t entirely kidding. Mostly I found things to do at the weekends, but for the past few months, there had been a distinct lack of excitement in my world, and the Internet had become my best friend to make up for the fact that most of my real best friends either worked weekends, or had gone over to the dark side, i.e. got married and popped out a couple of kids. Already. I wasn’t against marriage and babies, but I couldn’t see myself doing any of that for at least five years. If not more.
“What happened to you?” Logan laughed. “Didn’t you used to be a party girl?”
I cringed a little at his words. A few years ago I may have had a bit of a reputation as a club fiend. Oh, the joys of Facebook and its ability to document all of your moves, even if you weren’t the one posting them. I dreaded to think how many pictures Logan might have seen of me after a few too many vodkas on nights out with friends.
“Ha!” I said, shaking off the embarrassment. “I used to go out, but not to the extremes of some people. I am looking forward to having a proper drink later though. It’s been forever.”
“Wait.” Logan faked a look of horror, his eyes widening. “You mean you’re not driving us home?”
“No chance! This girl wants… wait, what do people drink at music festivals?”
“You’re kidding?” Logan laughed so loud that some people nearby turned their heads towards us and I ducked, hiding behind my hair. “Oops,” he said, in almost a whisper. “Sorry, but you’re such an amateur! You’ve never been to a music festival before?”
“Nope, you’re popping my festival cherry.”
I caught a sparkle in his brown eyes. “Well, they don’t serve any fancy shit.”
“What do you think I drink?” I chuckled. “I’ll happily drink beer from a bottle. I mean, they do have beer, right?”
“Yes. They have beer. And now I’m going to sulk because I’ll have to stick to Coke.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have a beer for you too.”
Present
“All sounds positive so far,” Lydia says, taking a sip of her vodka and lemonade.
It’s two days later, the first chance I’ve had to see my best friend and tell her all that happened on the day that everything changed. We’re in one of our local pubs because, frankly, I need the fresh air after spending forty-eight hours mooching around my house with a dopey grin on my face.
Have you ever tried to hold off on sharing a memory, just because you’re scared that saying it out loud will taint it somehow? Lydia wanted to know every detail of the trip right away, but all I managed was a text saying, I’ll tell you soon xx
The thing is, when our plans changed during the course of the day, it threw me. I hadn’t expected to make so many memories, and looking back on them now is like recalling the details of a vivid, beautiful dream. I want to keep them safe, protected. I don’t want them analysed or picked apart because they’re fragile, and even the slightest question mark over the things that transpired will shatter those amazing images that play over and over in my head. To me, they are perfect.
But the best friend code states that best friends must be kept informed of all details of romantic or potential romantic situations. It’s the law.
“The journey was great,” I tell her, nodding. “You know you’re in for a good day when there’s more laughter than silence.”
She grins. “So, do you want to explain exactly how you went from, ‘We’re driving back tomorrow night’ to-”
I hold up my hands. “I will. But…”
“What?” Concern flickers in her blue eyes. I don’t mean to worry her, I’m just anxious. Anxious about sharing the memories. She’d been looking at me as if Logan and I had slipped into porno mode and spent the night going at it behind a beer tent. Not that that was beyond the realms of possibility. After all, it wasn’t as if I’d never thought about it. Not necessarily behind a beer tent, but… you know what I mean.
“Talking about this feels weird. I want to tell you everything because, let’s face it, nobody has listened to me drone on about Logan’s awesomeness more than you have. You deserve the Ultimate Bestie Award for putting up with me for so long. But also, it sort of feels like some parts of it should be kept private. Between me and him.”
“I don’t need to hear the full details if there is sex involved, Marnie.” She laughs. “But you’re right. I definitely deserve to hear the rest of this story, so keep talking!”