Loveless

I was just a child.

And if I carried on like this … would I be alone forever?

‘Georgia!’

Pip’s voice. I made sure my tears were gone by the time I exited the bathroom. And she didn’t suspect a thing.

‘They’re so fucking dumb,’ she said.

‘Yeah,’ I agreed.

She tried to smile warmly at me. ‘You know you’ll find someone eventually, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You know you’ll find someone eventually. Everyone does. You’ll see.’

Jason was looking at me with a sad expression on his face. Pitying, maybe. Was he pitying me too?

‘Am I wasting being a teenager?’ I asked them. And they told me no, like best friends would, but it was too late. This was the wake-up call I’d needed.

I needed to kiss someone before it was too late.

And that someone had to be Tommy.

I let Pip and Jason go back downstairs to get drinks, using the excuse that I wanted to get my jacket from one of the guest bedrooms because I was cold, and then I just stood in the dark corridor, trying to breathe and collect my thoughts.

Everything was OK. It wasn’t too late.

I wasn’t weird or disgusting.

I had time to make my move.

I located my jacket, and also found a bowl of cocktail sausages balanced on a radiator, so picked those up too. As I walked back down the corridor, I saw that another bedroom door was ajar, so I peered inside, only to get an absolute eyeful of someone very clearly getting fingered.

It sent a sort of shockwave through my spine. Like, wow, OK. I forgot people actually did that in real life. It was fun to read about in fanfics and see in movies, but the reality was kind of just like, Oh. Yikes. I’m uncomfortable, get me out of here.

That aside – surely you’d think to shut the door properly if someone was going to put a body part inside of you.

It was hard to picture myself in a situation like that. Honestly, I loved the idea in theory – having a sexy little adventure in a dark room in someone else’s house with someone you’ve been on-and-off flirting with for a couple of months – but the reality? Having to actually touch genitals with someone? Ew.

I guess it took time for people to be ready for stuff like that. And you’d have to find someone you felt comfortable with. I’d never even interacted with anyone I wanted to kiss, let alone someone I wanted to …

I looked down at my bowl of cocktail sausages. Suddenly I was not very hungry any more.

And then a voice broke the silence around me.

‘Hey,’ said the voice, and I looked up, and there was Tommy.

This was the first time I had talked to Tommy in my life.

I’d seen him a lot, obviously. At the few house parties I’d been to. Sometimes at the school gate. When he joined our school for sixth form, we didn’t take any of the same subjects, but we occasionally passed in the corridor.

I’d always felt sort of nervous when he was nearby. I figured this was because of the crush.

I didn’t really know how I was supposed to act around him.

Tommy pointed at the bedroom. ‘Is anyone in there? I think my coat’s on the bed.’

‘I think someone’s getting fingered in there,’ I said, hopefully not loud enough for the people in question to hear.

Tommy dropped his hand. ‘Oh. Right. OK, then. Um. I guess I’ll get it later.’

There was a pause. We stood awkwardly outside the door. We couldn’t hear the two people inside the bedroom, but just knowing it was happening, and we were both aware of it, made me want to die.

‘How are you?’ he asked.

‘Oh, you know,’ I said, holding up the bowl of sausages. ‘I have sausages.’

Tommy nodded. ‘Good. Good for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You look really nice, by the way.’

My prom dress was sparkly and lilac, and I felt fairly uncomfortable in it compared to my usual patterned knits and high-waisted jeans, but I thought I looked nice, so it was good to have confirmation. ‘Thanks.’

‘Sorry about the truth or dare game.’ He chuckled. ‘People can be such twats. For the record, I didn’t have my first kiss until I was seventeen.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I know it’s kind of late, but … you know, it’s better to wait until it feels right, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I agreed, but I was just thinking that if seventeen was ‘late’, then I must be basically geriatric.

This all felt weird. Tommy had been my crush for seven years. He was talking to me. Why wasn’t I jumping for joy right now?

Thankfully at that moment my phone buzzed. I retrieved it from my bra.

Felipa Quintana

Sexcuse me buts where are you

Haha sex

I said sex accidentally

And BUTS

Haha butts

Jason Farley-Shaw

Please return before pip has another glass of wine

Felipa Quintana

Stop subtweeting me in our own group chat when I’m standing right next to you

Jason Farley-Shaw

For real though Georgia where are you

I quickly switched my phone screen off before Tommy thought I was ignoring him.

‘Uh …’ I began, not quite knowing what I was going to say before I said it. I held up my oversized denim jacket. ‘If you’re cold, you can borrow my jacket.’

Tommy looked at it. He seemed unfazed that it was technically a ‘girl’s’ jacket, which was good, because if he’d protested, that probably would have been it for my crush.

‘You sure?’ he asked.

‘Yeah!’

He took the jacket and put it on. It made me feel a bit uncomfortable, just knowing that some guy I really didn’t know very well was wearing my favourite jacket. Shouldn’t I have been pleased about this development?

‘I was just gonna go sit by the fire for a bit,’ said Tommy, and he slouched against the wall, leaning ever so slightly towards me with a smile. ‘D’you … wanna come with?’

That was when I realised he was trying to flirt with me.

Like, this was working.

I was actually going to get to kiss Tommy.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let me just message my friends.’

Georgia Warr

hanging out with tommy lol

School romance was on my list of favourite fanfiction tropes. I also loved soulmate AU, coffee shop AU, hurt/comfort and temporary amnesia.

I figured school romance was the most likely one that would happen to me, but now that the possibility of it happening was more than zero, I was freaking out.

Like, heart racing, sweating, hands shaking freaking out.

This was what crushes felt like, so this was normal, right?

Everything was totally normal.

When we got to the fire, we were the only people there. No kissing orgy in sight.

I picked a seat near the blanket pile and Tommy sat next to me, balancing a beer bottle on his chair arm. What would happen now? Would we just start making out? God, I hoped not.

Wait, wasn’t that what I wanted?

A kiss had to happen, anyway. That much was clear to me. This was my last chance.

‘So,’ Tommy said.

‘So,’ I said.

I thought about how I was going to initiate the kiss. In fanfics, they just say Can I kiss you, which is very romantic to read but sounded so embarrassing in my head when I imagined saying it out loud. In movies, it just seems to sort of happen without any discussion beforehand, but both parties go into it knowing exactly what’s happening.

He nodded at me, and I glanced at him, waiting for him to speak.

‘You look really nice,’ he said.

‘You said that already,’ I said, smiling awkwardly, ‘but thanks.’

‘S’weird we didn’t really speak much at school,’ he continued. As he spoke, he put his hand on the top of my chair, so his hand was weirdly close to my face. I don’t know why that made me feel so uncomfortable. His skin was just there, I guess.

‘Well, we weren’t really friends with the same people,’ I said.

‘Yeah, and you’re pretty quiet, aren’t you?’

I couldn’t even deny that. ‘Yeah.’

Now that he was so close, I was struggling to even see what exactly I’d been attracted to for seven years. I could tell that he was conventionally attractive, like you can tell pop stars or actors are attractive, but nothing about him really made me feel butterflies. Did I know what butterflies felt like? What exactly was I supposed to be feeling right now?

He nodded as if he already knew everything about me. ‘That’s all right. Quiet girls are nice.’

What was that even supposed to mean?

Was he being creepy? I couldn’t tell. I was probably just nervous. Everyone gets nervous around their crushes.

I glanced towards the house, feeling like I didn’t really want to look at him any more. And I spotted two figures hovering in the conservatory, watching us – Pip and Jason. Pip immediately waved at me, but Jason looked kind of embarrassed and pulled Pip away.

They both wanted to see what would happen with Georgia and her seven-year crush.

Tommy leant a little closer to me. ‘We should talk more, or something.’

I could tell he didn’t mean that. He was just stalling. I knew what was supposed to happen next.

I was supposed to lean in, nervous, but excited, and he’d brush my hair out of my face and I’d look up at him beneath my eyelashes, and then we’d kiss, gently, and we’d be one, Georgia and Tommy, and then we’d go home, giddy and happy, and maybe it’d never happen again. Or maybe he’d message me, and we’d decide to go on a date, just to see what would happen, and at the date we would decide to try going out, and on our third date we would decide to be boyfriend and girlfriend, and a couple of weeks after that we would have sex, and while I was at university he would text me good morning and come to visit every other weekend, and after university we would move in together in a little flat by the river and get a dog, and he’d grow a beard, and then we would get married, and that would be the end.

That was what was supposed to happen.

I could see every single moment of it in my head. The simple route. The easy way out.

I could do that, couldn’t I?

If I didn’t, what would Pip and Jason say?

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I know you haven’t kissed anyone before.’

The way he said it was like he was talking to a newborn puppy.

‘OK,’ I said.

It irritated me. He was irritating me.

This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? A cute little moment in the dark?

‘Hey, look,’ he said, a pitying smile on his face. ‘Everyone has a first kiss eventually. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s OK to be new at, like, romance and all that.’

New at romance? I wanted to laugh. I’d been studying romance like an academic. Like an obsessive researcher. Romance would be my Mastermind topic.

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘Georgia …’ Tommy leant in close, and then it hit me.

The disgust.

A wave of absolute, unbridled disgust.

He was so close I felt like I wanted to scream, I wanted to smash a glass and throw up at the same time. My fists tightened on the arms of my chair and I tried to keep looking at him, keep moving towards him, kiss him, but he was so close to me and it felt horrific, I felt disgusted. I wanted this to end.

‘It’s OK to be nervous,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of cute, actually.’

‘I’m not nervous,’ I said. I was disgusted by the thought of him near me. Wanting things from me. That wasn’t normal, was it?

He put his hand on my thigh.

And that’s when I flinched, shoving his hand away and sending his drink toppling off the side of the chair, and he swung forwards to grab it and fell out of his seat.

Right into the firepit.

There’d been signs. I’d missed all of them because I was desperate to fall in love.

Luke from Year 5 was the first. He did it via a note in my coat pocket during playtime. To Georgia. You’re so beautiful, will you be my girlfriend? Yes [ ] No [ ] From Luke.

I ticked No and he cried all through numeracy.

In Year 6, when all of the girls in my class decided they wanted boyfriends, I felt left out, so asked Luke if he was still up for it, but he was already going out with Ayesha, so he said no. All the new couples played together on the climbing frame during the leavers’ barbecue, and I felt sad and lonely.

Noah from the school bus was the second, in Year 9, although I’m not sure he counts. He asked me out on Valentine’s Day because that was what people did on Valentine’s Day – everybody wanted to be in a couple on Valentine’s Day. Noah scared me because he was loud and enjoyed throwing sandwiches at people, so I just shook my head at him and went back to staring out of the window.

The third was Jian from the boys’ school. Year 11. A lot of people thought he was extremely attractive. We had a long conversation at a house party about whether Love Island was a good show or not, and then he tried to kiss me when everyone was drunk, including both of us. It would have been so easy to go for it.

It would have been so easy to lean in and do it.

But I didn’t want to. I didn’t fancy him.

But the fourth turned out to be Tommy, who I knew from school and who looked like Timothée Chalamet, and I didn’t really know him that well, but this was the time that broke me a little, because I’d thought I really liked him. But I couldn’t do it, because I didn’t fancy him.

My seven-year crush on him was entirely fabricated.

A random choice from when I was eleven, and a girl held up a photo and told me to choose a boy.

I didn’t fancy Tommy.

Apparently, I hadn’t ever fancied anyone.

I screamed. Tommy screamed. His entire arm was on fire.

He rolled over and suddenly Pip flew out of nowhere, grabbing a blanket, and falling straight on top of Tommy, stifling the flames while Tommy was saying, ‘Holy shit, holy shit,’ over and over and I was just standing over him, watching him burn.

The first thing I felt was shock. I felt frozen. Like this wasn’t really happening.

The second thing I felt was anger about my jacket.

That was my favourite fucking jacket.

I should never have given it to some boy I barely knew. Some boy I didn’t even like.

Jason was there too, asking Tommy if he was hurt, but he was sitting up and shaking his head, pulling off the ruins of my favourite jacket, looking at his unscathed arm and saying, ‘What the fuck?’ And then he stared up at me and said it again. ‘What the fuck?’

I looked down at this person I had picked at random from a photo and said, ‘I don’t like you like that. I’m really sorry. You’re nice, but I just – I don’t like you like that.’

Jason and Pip both turned to me in unison. A little crowd was starting to form, our classmates wandering outside to see what the commotion was about.

‘What the fuck?’ said Tommy a third time, before he was swarmed by his friends, coming to see if he was OK.

I was just staring at him thinking, that was my fucking jacket and seven years and I never liked you at all.

‘Georgia,’ said Pip. She was next to me, pulling on my arm. ‘I think it’s time to go home.’

‘I never liked him,’ I said in the car as we pulled up outside Pip’s house and I cut the engine. Pip was next to me. Jason was in the back. ‘Seven years and I just lied to myself the whole time.’

They were both being weirdly silent. Like they didn’t know what to say. In a horrible way, I almost blamed them. Pip, anyway. She’d been the one pushing me to do this. She’d been teasing me about Tommy for seven years.

No, that was unfair. This wasn’t her fault.

‘This is my fault,’ I said.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Pip, gesturing wildly. She was still fairly tipsy. ‘You … you’ve had a crush on him for years.’ Her voice got quieter. ‘This was your … your big chance.’

I started laughing.

It’s wild how long you can trick yourself. And everyone around you.

The door to Pip’s house opened, revealing her parents in matching dressing gowns. Manuel and Carolina Quintana were just another of the perfectly-in-love, incredibly-romantic-backstory couples I knew. Carolina, who’d grown up in Popayán, Colombia, and Manuel, who’d grown up in London, met when Manuel went to visit his dying grandma in Popayán when he was seventeen. Carolina was literally the girl next door, and the rest was history. These things just happened.

‘I’ve never had a crush on anyone in my entire life,’ I said. It was all sinking in. I’d never had a crush on anyone. No boys, no girls, not a single person I had ever met. What did that mean? Did it mean anything? Or was I just doing life wrong? Was there something wrong with me? ‘Can you believe that?’

There was a pause again, before Pip said, ‘Well, s’fine. S’fine, man. You know you’ll find someone –’

‘Don’t say it,’ I said. ‘Please do not say it.’

So she didn’t.

‘You know, the idea – the idea of it is nice. The idea of liking Tommy and kissing Tommy and having some cute little moment by the fire after prom. That’s so nice. That’s what I wanted.’ I felt myself clench the steering wheel. ‘But the reality disgusts me.’

They didn’t say anything. Even Pip, who’d always been a chatty drunk. Even my best friends couldn’t think of a single comforting word.

‘Well … This has been a good night, right?’ Pip slurred as she stumbled out of my car. She held the front passenger door open and pointed dramatically at me, the streetlamps reflecting in her glasses. ‘You. Very good. Outstanding. And you –’ she prodded Jason in the chest as he moved into the front seat – ‘excellent. Really excellent work.’

‘Drink water,’ said Jason, patting her on the head.

We watched her walk up to her front door and get gently chastised by her mum for being drunk. Her dad waved at us, and we waved back, and then I started the engine and we drove away. It could have been a good night. It could have been the best night of my life, if I’d actually had a crush on Tommy.

The next stop was Jason’s. He lived in a house built by his dads, who were both architects. Rob and Mitch had met at university – they were doing the same course – and ended up competing for the same architecture apprenticeship. Rob won, which he claims he earned, but Mitch always claims he let Rob win because he liked him.

When we arrived, I said, ‘Most people our age have kissed someone.’

And he said, ‘That doesn’t matter.’

But I knew it did. It mattered. It was not random that I was the one who was falling behind. Everything that had happened that night was a sign that I needed to try harder, or I would be alone for the rest of my life.

‘I don’t feel like a real teenager,’ I said. ‘I think I failed at it.’ And Jason clearly didn’t know what to say to that, because he said nothing.

Sitting in my car on the drive of my family home, the ghost of a boy’s hand on my thigh, I made a plan.

I was going to university soon. A chance to reinvent myself and become someone who could fall in love, someone who would fit in with my family, with people my age, with the world. I’d make a load of new friends. I’d join societies. I’d get a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, even. A partner. I’d have my first kiss, and I’d have sex. I was just a late bloomer. I wasn’t going to die alone.

I was going to try harder.

I wanted forever love.

I didn’t want to be loveless.

The drive to Durham University was six hours long, and I spent most of it replying to Pip’s barrage of Facebook messages. Jason had already travelled up there a couple of days earlier, and Pip and I had hoped to go together, but it turned out that my bags and boxes had taken up the whole of my dad’s car boot and most of the back seats. We settled for messaging and trying to spot each other on the motorway.

Felipa Quintana

New game!!!!!

If we spot each other on the motorway we get 10 points

Georgia Warr

what do we get if we have the most points

Felipa Quintana

Eternal glory

Georgia Warr

love me a sweet cup of eternal glory

Felipa Quintana

DUDE I JUST SAW YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!

I waved but you didn’t see me

Rejection

A modern tragedy by Felipa Quintana

Georgia Warr

you’ll get over it

Felipa Quintana

I’ll need intense therapy

You’re paying

Georgia Warr

i’m not paying for your therapy

Felipa Quintana

Rude

I thought you were my friend

Georgia Warr

use your 10 points to pay for therapy

Felipa Quintana

MAYBE I WILL

The drive was hideously long, actually, even with Pip’s messages for company. Dad was asleep for most of it. Mum insisted she got to choose the radio station since she was driving, and it was all motorway, flashes of grey and green, with only one stop at a service station. Mum bought me a packet of crisps, but I was too nervous about the day ahead to eat them, so they just sat in my lap, unopened.

‘You never know,’ Mum had said, in an attempt to cheer me up, ‘you might find a lovely young man on your course!’

‘Maybe,’ I said. Or a lovely young woman. God, anybody. Please. I’m desperate.

‘Lots of people meet their life partner at university. Like me and Dad.’

Mum regularly pointed out boys she thought I would find attractive, as if I could just go up to someone and ask them out. I never thought any of her choices were attractive anyway. But she was hopeful. Mostly out of curiosity, I think. She wanted to know what sort of person I would choose, like when you’re watching a movie and waiting for the love interest to appear.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I said, not wanting to tell her that her attempt at cheering me up was just making me feel worse. ‘That’d be nice.’

I was starting to feel a bit like I was going to be sick.

But everyone probably felt this way about starting university.

Durham is a little old city with lots of hills and cobbled streets, and I loved it because I felt like I was in The Secret History or some other deep and mysterious university drama where there’s lots of sex and murder.

Not that I was particularly on track to experience either of those.