Snake bite and slushes - a love story - part 3

“Did I just see you kiss Mr Jones?”........

“Just a ‘Happy New Year’ peck – nothing to worry about,” the lie slipped off my tongue easily and I was shocked at myself. I gave him a look that dared him to disagree with me and then went back to chatting. Mr M wandered off to get another drink.

Mr Jones joined the group and I managed to whisper. “Mr M saw us kiss – but I told him it was nothing,” he gave me a slightly panicked look as Miss B appeared and whisked him away.

I hardly slept that night and the next day Mr Jones and I acted as if nothing had happened. Mr M and I left at lunchtime and headed back to my parent’s house. Until that night Mr M and I had never shared a room under my parent’s roof. I’d always stayed in my sisters room. But for some reason – known only to themselves – that night Mum and Dad decided that we were responsible enough to cram into my single bed.

I was not amused. Mr M was chuffed. Chuffed that is until I made it quite clear that in my hungover state I had no intention of sharing a single bed and made him up a mattress on my bedroom floor.

I battled my way through the anniversary meal. My head was thumping and my stomach was churning. To him it was just a hangover – but I knew it was guilt, mixed with excitement and a fear of the unknown. As the meal wore on it was slowly dawning on me that the boy sitting opposite me really wasn’t for me. Everything he said irritated me to the very core and it had taken kissing someone else for me to realise that I’d been pretending for a very long time.

The next day I packed him off to get back to his revision and sat alone in my guilt. I had no idea what Mr Jones was thinking. For all I knew he’d just been drunk and thought nothing more of it. And I didn’t know what I wanted either. As much as I found Mr M annoying I certainly didn’t want him to get hurt. And what about Miss B? She was my friend – and I’d kissed her boyfriend.

A week later my Mum dropped me off at Mr Jones' house, he'd offered to drive me back to uni. Miss B was there to wave us off and I felt hideous as I gave her a hug goodbye.

The drive to Hull took about two and a half hours and I talked incessantly the whole way there. I talked about absolutely nothing. I prattled on and on, terrified about what would happen if I shut up for one minute.

Half way through the journey my sister called me. I’d confessed everything to her in minute detail and she wanted to know if I’d brought up the subject yet. “Have you said anything,” she all but bellowed down the phone.

I laughed nervously, glancing at Mr Jones, hoping he hadn't heard her “er no.”

“Well don’t you think you should – you’re running out of time?”

“I’m sure I’ll get round to it” I said – my face turning red. I frantically prayed for a dip in phone signal to cut her off. No such luck. She kept on and I kept making non-descript replies until she finally gave up. Mr Jones gave me a weird look. I resumed prattling.

We reached Hull and I offered to buy Mr Jones a curry to thank him for driving me back. We ordered a korma and settled down in mine and Mr M’s house to eat it.

The phone rang. It was Mr M. “Just checking you got there safely.”

“Yep all good thanks.”

“Is Mr Jones still there?”

“Yeah we’re just having a curry and then we might pop out – it’s the Hair’s birthday” (Note – the Hair is a nickname for our friend Rich).

“Oh right – well have fun.”

“Will do.”

We finished eating and started washing up. “So we got busted on New Year’s then,” said Mr Jones. And the conversation began. We were interrupted twice more by phone calls from Mr M – “just checking I was ok” and “wanting to hear my voice”. But in between calls we talked until late never making it to the Hair’s birthday drinks.

We both agreed that we didn’t want anyone to get hurt, we both admitted that we liked one another, but felt that it was too complicated for anything to happen. We both knew we weren’t happy in our relationships – but we didn’t want to use each other as an excuse to leave.

We sat on my sofa with our arms around each other, my head on Mr Jones’ chest, in silence for a long time. To me it felt right. Then Mr Jones left. And that was to be the end of it....