It Sounded Better in My Head - Nina Kenwood Page 0,46

lie in bed and talk until we’re sure Zach’s parents are safely asleep. Then I tiptoe down the stairs, passing Zach on his way up.

‘You okay?’ he says, pausing and looking at my face.

‘Yup.’ I force a smile.

A whole new idea has occurred to me. Alex wasn’t interested in hanging out with me today. I’ve overthought this whole thing. Maybe he was bored and just wanted to hook up. Maybe? Definitely. God, I’m so naive. I am a distraction, a way to fill in time, a stand-in, an it’s-dark-and-I’m-horny-so-she’ll-do hook up. He probably thinks we’re going to have sex tonight.

By the time I’ve reached the bedroom door, I’ve worked myself into a state and I’m furious. It feels so much better to be angry than sad.

‘Hello, stranger,’ he says, as I slip into the room. He’s trying to be cute.

Oh no. Not tonight, buddy. I will not be tricked by cuteness. ‘I’m not having sex with you,’ I say. The words burst out of my mouth, a little louder than I intended. I don’t often say the word sex out loud, I realise in this moment. Other than discussing it with Lucy, I haven’t had many occasions to say it to another person. Certainly not in the context of me having, or not having, the sex in question.

‘Keep your voice down,’ he hisses in a panic.

‘Well, I’m not.’ I put my hands on my hips. This part of relationships, being mad about something and in control, feels like the part I can probably do quite well.

‘What are you even saying?’

‘I. Will. Not. Have. Sex. With. You.’ It’s easier to say the second time. I’m getting good at this.

‘There was no part of my mind that thought we were having sex tonight,’ he says, sounding a little horrified at the thought.

‘Oh,’ I say. That’s a little offensive. I mean, I would have at least liked him to think about it.

‘So you can calm down.’

‘I am calm.’ There is nothing more unattractive than a guy telling a girl to calm down. That’s two strikes against Alex tonight and I’ve been in the room for less than a minute.

‘Okay,’ he says. He sounds a little scared.

I lie on the bed, but don’t get under the sheet.

‘Are you mad at me?’ he asks, eventually.

‘No,’ I say, because admitting I’m mad at him seems like I’m admitting I care more than he does, and everyone knows the person who cares the least is the person who wins. (‘Wins what?’ I can hear my mother asking, in the way she does when she thinks I’m being ridiculous but she wants me to reach that conclusion myself. ‘Wins at life, wins at self-protection, wins at surviving the utter hell that is liking someone,’ I yell back at her in my mind.)

But then I change my mind. This is our last night together in this bed, potentially our last night together forever, and I’m so mad at him that it’s making me crazy.

‘Actually, yes, I am mad at you. I’m mad at you because you’re ashamed to be seen with me,’ I say, as loud as I dare. I can hear how dramatic I sound, but I don’t care.

‘No, I’m not,’ he says, sounding indignant.

‘You ignored me today!’ I whisper-shout.

‘What? You ignored me!’ he whisper-shouts back.

‘I came to the beach, and you didn’t come anywhere near me.’

‘I waved at you, twice, no, three times, and then the next thing I knew, you were gone.’

‘That’s not what happened.’

‘That’s exactly what happened.’

It’s actually quite thrilling to be in a middle-of-the-night argument with a cute guy, but I wish we were disagreeing over something more exciting than waving at each other on the beach.

‘So, what? You thought you would wait for me to swim out to you and your friends and introduce myself and start playing Frisbee?’ I ask.

‘Yes.’ He sounds bewildered. He hasn’t the faintest clue.

‘That’s not how this works.’

‘How what works?’

‘You want me to make all the effort when I’m…’ I can’t find the words. Surely he understands this part: that the less attractive, less popular, less experienced, less everything person should not have to be the one to put themselves out there.

‘Never mind,’ I say.

‘I want to know,’ he says, and his voice is soft now.

‘Why did you kiss me last night?’

‘Because I wanted to. And if I remember correctly, you kissed me too.’

‘Right. But were you just bored and filling in time?’

‘Filling in time?’ He sounds incredulous. ‘If I wanted to fill time, I would have just