Boys, Bras and Boarding School

I'm A Buddha

Elle. This is taking the Mick! In the damn field where my damn boyfriend has just kissed his prostitute ex girlfriend

I don’t even know what to do! Harry pulls away from her but I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t do it sooner. Maybe I’m not that good a kisser. Oh my gosh, maybe Luce is right and I do kiss like a tampon! Oh, this is so embarrassing and I think I might cry; now I know what Luce feels like. This is so horrible.

Harry looks up at me then, and our eyes lock for a second. He looks ashamed and looks like he has a reasonable explanation, but quite frankly, I don’t want to hear it. I walk off with Louis, Liam and Luce (now’s not the time to point out my amazing use of alliteration) hot on my heels. I feel like the ‘queen bee’ in those silly American chick flicks with her little posy following behind her, mimicking every little thing that she does. Apart from the fact that I don’t have a super hot boyfriend—or do I?—and two members of my fan club are boys. I may have to go to extremes and dress them up in wigs and miniskirts and fill their bras out with tissue and socks (Luce is an expert on that seeing as she used to do it every Sunday for church.)

          I feel a hand grab mine, and expect it to be Luce, but it’s not.

It’s my boyfriend. Harry.

I think I start crying because he lifts his hand up to my face and wipes moist tear-tracks from my cheeks. It’s so romantic, but so wrong, because it wouldn’t be happening unless he’d hurt me. And he has, a lot.

          “Elle let me explain—”

          “There’s nothing left to say. You still like her Harry. That much was made clear when you let your tongue and hands go all over her.”

Somewhere from behind me—I’m guessing it is Louis—a voice says “Ooh, burn!” I’m not quite sure what it means, but it can’t be good because Harry sends his cold, hard stare over my shoulder.

          “There is. Please, just give me a chance!” he pleads. I look into his eyes, angry at myself for not ignoring the temptation. He looks sorry, and sad. Well, good, he should be.

          “You have one minute. Go.” I say, regretting that my voice falters and I don’t come across as confident as I pretend to be.

          “She told me that if I didn’t kiss her, she’d make your life hell. And trust me, she would.”

          “And don’t we all know it!” Louis interrupts again. This time, he doesn’t earn Harry’s ‘shut up’ look, because obviously Harry was counting on him to say this.

          “Please, Elle, you have to believe me. She’d honestly make your life hell. So I kissed her. And after I did, I told her that if she loved me, she’d let me go. But the thing is, I don’t think she’ll let go. I just had to give it a try.”

          “She’s made my life hell, huh? I think you did a pretty good job of that without her help.”

I don’t realise that I’m looking down until Harry’s hand comes up from underneath me and brushes the hair from out of my face. I cry harder and he pulls me in for a hug, and I do nothing but relax into him. Somewhere, deep inside me, I believe him, but there’s something in my head that’s telling me not to trust him.

Are you supposed to follow your head or your heart?

Wednesday 13th December

Luce—here’s what you’ve missed!

Ok, so basically, the fat and thin of it is that Harry and Elle are on time out. They’re taking a break from their relationship; I don’t think either of them are truly satisfied with this and the rest of us think it’s pretty pointless, but we don’t have the guts to say anything because they’re both in rather heated moods. The silence at the table is always awkward and it’s kind of splitting us up.