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.