Authors: Holly Bourne
I struggled to digest. “And this has just been decided in the past few hours?”
Ruth nodded. “Didn’t Noah tell you?”
He hadn’t.
“Our boyfriends are famous.” Ruth tried to high-five me. I half-heartedly hit her hand while trying to work out why I was so annoyed.
“I suppose they are.”
That afternoon the clock moved like sludge trickling through a drain. At one point I was convinced it was broken, even though it was one of those posh satellite clocks. My body started to ache for Noah. My heartbeat picked up, as if it could sense him walking to college and getting closer. As the clock hand inched towards the end of the day, I tried to get myself ready inconspicuously. Luckily my Photography teacher was the “arty” type. She was too busy flouncing around in a shawl, trying to get students to photograph homeless people, to notice me painting my nails under the table. Or applying lip stain. Or the quick brushing of hair and lashings of mascara.
When the bell went I looked, well, nice, hopefully. But my hard work was undone the moment I stepped outside into the cold. My nose started dripping, my hair blew all over the place, and the wind turned my cheeks bright red. I wanted to run to the college gates but forced myself to walk normally.
My breath caught as I spotted him leaning against the college fence. Girls were double-taking and giggling as they walked by, flicking their hair and fluttering their eyelids at him. He looked uber-fit, all wrapped up in his winter clothes. He was wearing jeans, a green jumper, a leather jacket, and a beanie hat covered most of his dark hair. A grey scarf set off his beautiful cheekbones perfectly and my heart beat faster as I approached. He was also carrying a massive bag over his shoulder.
He kissed me softly on the lips, making my knees tremble.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, giving me another kiss. “I take it you were good and got all your work done?”
I nodded, dumbfounded. “What’s in the bag?”
He tapped his nose. “All will be revealed.”
“But it’s massive! Have you killed someone? I don’t want this surprise date to be digging a grave for a rival guitar player or something.”
Noah laughed. “As I said, all will be revealed.” He took my hand and we started walking.
“So how was your day?” I asked, still curious about the bag.
“It was an odd one actually. The band’s going to be in the local paper.”
I smiled. “I know that already. I think Lizzie may be somewhat responsible.”
“I knew it.” He squeezed my hand. “Yeah, well, I suppose it’s good publicity. Even though that paper’s mainly only read by old middle-class people.”
“Lizzie reads it.”
“She doesn’t really count.”
“Ha. I suppose you’re right.”
Noah started swinging my hand between us. “So,” he said. “You looking forward to this fun treat I have planned for you?”
“Of course. I’m intrigued to know what it is.”
“Well, let’s get you home first so you can get ready.”
“Get ready?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“That would be telling.”
“But I am ready.” I started to feel insecure. I had redone my make-up, my hair surely didn’t look that bad, despite the wind, and my clothes were fine. “Do I not look ready?”
He kissed my head. “You look lovely, as always. But where I’m taking you isn’t a jeans place.”
“Now I’m really intrigued.”
“You’re just going to have to be patient.”
We walked back to mine, holding hands the whole way. It made me think about what had happened with Frank earlier. It had been him who’d taken my hand… My belief that he wasn’t into me was waning a little. I compartmentalized the uncomfortable thought for the time being though, and focused on how Noah’s hand felt in mine. The wind was still bitingly cold and I thought I might have to apply an emergency layer of red-reducing foundation on the sly. Noah told me about the photo shoot they were doing for the newspaper.
“It sounds a bit cringe to be honest. They want to photograph us under the railway bridge. I’m concerned they’re going to want lots of ‘edgy’ shots of us smouldering against exposed brickwork.”
“Noah. Your band is called Growing Pains. You’re practically begging to be shot in black-and-white against exposed brickwork.”
“Always with the band-name criticism.”
“It’s a stupid name.”
“Well, I bet everyone thought ‘The Beatles’ sounded pretty dumb when they first started.”
“Did you just compare your band to The Beatles?”
He held up his hands. “God, no. Calm down. Don’t worry.”
We arrived at my house and I scrabbled around for a door key. As I let myself in, I called out but there was no answer. We were alone.
“Come on,” I said, leading him upstairs. “My room’s up here.”
“I get to see your room?”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“It will just be interesting to see where you sleep, that’s all.”
“That sounds creepy. What is it with you and sleep?”
I opened my door, trying to remember what state I’d left my room in that morning. It actually wasn’t that messy. I quickly smoothed out the duvet and kicked a stray pair of knickers under the bed before Noah sat on it and looked around him.
“So this is where Poppy lives?” He took in my framed photos, my old teddy bear (damn it, I forgot to hide that!), and my pretentious poster of James Dean.
“It’s not usually this messy,” I lied.
Noah reached out for my hand and pulled me down so I was sitting next to him. He brushed his lips against mine.
“It’s perfect. I love it. It screams
you
.”
He kissed me again, harder this time, and my body went haywire. I hungrily licked his lips and wrapped my arms around his back. He groaned and before I knew it I was kissing him furiously, sitting on top of him. It was the best kind of wonderful.
We came up for air and Noah grinned up at me.
“We’re not doing very well,” he said, stroking my face. “I seem incapable of behaving myself around you.”
I caught a glimpse of myself in my dressing table mirror. Just five minutes of kissing had somehow moulded my hair into an atrocity. I tried to manipulate it back into normality with my fingers.
“Yes, well, I seem equally incapable of resisting nympho-like urges. Anyway, let’s distract ourselves. Why are we here again?”
“Oh yes, I almost forgot.”
Noah jumped up and began rummaging through his huge bag. Curious, I watched as he pulled out another, smaller pricey-looking bag. He held it up triumphantly.
“What’s that?”
“It’s for you.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
He placed the bag on my bed. It was from a posh shop in town – an expensive posh shop.
“You didn’t have to buy me anything,” I said, turning the bag over in my hands.
“Don’t be silly. You’re my girlfriend. Plus this is a practical gift.”
I reached inside. Something felt soft and I pulled it out slowly. It was red, made with silky material. I pinched it with my fingers and let the fabric unravel to reveal the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen.
“It’s a dress.”
I stood there, stunned. It was the colour red that I knew suited me but was never brave enough to actually wear. It had a high-ish neckline and long sleeves. It skimmed down from the waist, ending high above the knee.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, still staring.
Noah held the fabric up against my body.
“It looks like it’s a perfect fit,” he said, grinning. “I should definitely get some sort of prize for that.”
I couldn’t really speak. All I could do was stare at the dress.
“You like it?”
I nodded, then shook my head.
“It’s gorgeous, Noah. But, seriously, I can’t accept it. I know that shop, and you’re too generous.”
He shrugged, not bothered. “I’ve got millionaire parents with severe guilt issues, remember? Don’t worry about the money, just try it on.”
“But I have nowhere to wear it to.”
“Well, that’s where this evening’s entertainment comes in.” He had an even broader smile on his face now. He rummaged again in his bag, located a white envelope and handed it to me.
I was nervous as I slit it open and pulled out two stiff tickets.
I gasped.
“Tickets to the ballet?” I could hardly believe it.
“Yep. Good tickets as well. My dad has a box. He uses it to schmooze potential clients and it’s not being used tonight. I thought you could wear your new dress.”
I screeched and hugged him. “Do you have any idea how much I love the ballet?”
He hugged me back. “Nope. It was a lucky guess. But I know how much girls love getting dressed up for things.”
“I love love love LOVE the ballet.” I got up and did a little pirouette around my room. “I used to dance as a kid, you know? I was actually pretty good. Mum would take me to the ballet each Christmas. I looked forward to it all year.”
Noah stood up and I theatrically jumped into his arms. He caught me and spun me around.
“So what happened, Margot Fonteyn?” he asked. “Why don’t you still go?”
I sighed. “You know, the usual stuff. I became a teenager and decided I wanted to go shopping on Saturdays instead of to ballet classes. I regret it, of course.”
“Well, I’m glad I picked the right thing to do.”
“You
so
did.”
“Are you going to try the dress on?”
“Only if you promise not to look.”
He held his hands over his eyes. “No peeking. I promise.”
I quickly peeled off all my layers and pulled the dress on. I let the fabric swish down and I examined my reflection in the mirror.
Wow. It was a good dress. I looked at least five years older and the shade of red changed my complexion completely. It made my skin look milky and the brown in my hair looked deep and shiny.
“Are you done yet?” Noah asked, eyes still covered. “The suspense is killing me.”
“I’m done.” I swept my hair to one side.
Noah opened his fingers and peered through. He paused. Then he took his hands away and just stared. I felt myself go as red as the dress.
“What is it? Does it look awful?” I tugged nervously at the fabric.
He still didn’t speak.
“What? You’re making me feel anxious now.”
He grabbed my face and pulled me into a deep kiss. When he pulled away I was left even more flustered.
“What was that for?”
Noah started kissing my shoulders and my arms. “You. Look. So. Unbelievably. Gorgeous,” he said between kisses. “That. I. Can’t. Stop. Kissing. You.”
I giggled. “You like it?”
“I more than like it.” He kissed me full on the mouth again. “Let’s not go to the ballet. Can’t we just stay here with you wearing that dress?”
“No! I’m all excited now.”
“But look at you.”
“When do we need to leave?”
Noah looked at his watch.
“In about an hour.”
“Well, I need to do my hair and make-up. I can’t go wearing a dress like this but with my face looking like crap.”
“Trust me. You couldn’t look less like crap if you tried.”
“I guess that’s good to know.”
Noah gave me one final kiss.
“I need to leave you alone. I’m like a sex pest. You get ready and I’ll go to the bathroom and get changed.”
“Don’t tell me you’re wearing a pretty dress too?”
He nodded. “Yup. And heels. And this DIVINE handbag I found in Coast.”
“How do you know about Coast?”
“Girls talk about it a lot.”
“Fair enough.”
Noah scooted out of my bedroom with yet another mysterious bag. I quickly rang my mum to fill her in. She got a bit too excited and delayed my getting-ready process by at least ten minutes. Then I sat myself at my dressing table and got to work beautifying myself, smiling non-stop throughout. I decided to play up to the red of the dress, so kept my eye make-up minimal and worked on creating what I hoped would be a set of red luscious lips, which
Cosmo
had told me were easy to do in five steps. With juicy lips accomplished, I turned my attention to my hair and decided I just about had enough time to curl it. I switched on my tongs and painstakingly created soft ringlets. I was just spritzing on some of the posh perfume I got for my birthday when Noah re-emerged.
It was my turn to be shocked.
He looked…fantastic.
He’d changed into an impeccably cut black suit with a crisp white shirt and skinny black tie. He’d changed his hair. It wasn’t all floppy and messy like usual but moulded and sculpted to show off his jawline perfectly. All his stubble had gone, leaving his face clean and his black eyes startling. As expected, my belly flip-flopped like I was standing on top of a massive cliff and my heart’s tempo stepped up a notch.
I was just about to tell him how amazing he looked but he beat me to it.
“Poppy Lawson. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl in the whole of Middletown.”
It took a lot of willpower not to act entirely on lust. “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”
“If I didn’t know better I would say that was a compliment.”
He kissed me, which caused my body to spasm in delight. He then stooped so his head was resting on my shoulder and he looked at our reflection in the mirror.
“We’re not a bad-looking couple, you know?”
I looked at the mirror image in front of me. Noah was right. We did look pretty good together. I almost didn’t recognize myself. I was this adult-looking, rather pretty girl, who seemed to radiate happiness. I hadn’t realized before how Noah made me smile compulsively; how being with him made me feel so relaxed, so…okay, it sounded daft, but so completed.