Diary of a Crush: Kiss and Make Up (12 page)

I banged open the kitchen door and glared at Dylan and Italian Tony, the other chef.

Dylan nearly jumped out of his skin but Tony just laughed.

‘I make you some black coffee, Edie,’ he said with a twinkle. ‘And you don’t speak if you don’t have anything nice to say, huh?’

I gave Tony a look, which just made him laugh as I opened a loaf of sliced white and attacked the first piece of bread with my butter knife. We worked in silence for an hour until Tony announced that he was off to the cash and carry and sauntered out.

‘I leave you in charge, Edie,’ he announced. ‘But no picking on the new boy.’

The minute Tony was out of the door, I turned and glared at Dylan.

‘You couldn’t get a summer job somewhere else, could you?’ I hissed at him. ‘You have to find work where you can bug me for the next eight weeks.’

Dylan looked hurt but I was immune to his puppy-dog eyes these days. ‘I’ve known Anna for ages. I have worked next door to her for three years,’ he pointed out mildly.

‘Why can’t you work in Rhythm over the summer?’ I demanded.

‘Can you stop pointing that knife at me?’ said Dylan nervously. ‘They don’t need any more full-time staff and I’m behind with my rent so Anna said I could help out here. Mind you, if I’d known you were going to be such charming company maybe I’d have started working here ages ago.’

‘Oh, ha ha,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Anyway I didn’t even know you could cook.’

Dylan looked incredibly uncomfortable and shifted his gaze to the griddle where two misshapen sausages were doing a good impersonation of charcoal.

Although I hadn’t thought it possible I started to grin. ‘Oh my God!’ I yelped.

‘Leave it!’ said Dylan warningly.

I ignored him. ‘You can’t cook,’ I crowed. ‘You can’t even make a decent cup of coffee! How did you think you were going to manage as a short order cook?’

‘Are you going to carry on like this all day or are you going to help me?’ asked Dylan with a bite to his voice as the sausages started to smoke.

‘I guess you’re on buttering and slicing duties,’ I told Dylan as I gently pushed him out of the way and started to scrape the meaty mess off the griddle plate.

I guess Dylan was worried that I was going to ’fess his lack of culinary expertise to Anna, which I so wasn’t but he tried to be really nice to me. In between making up the sandwiches for lunch he kept offering me endless cups of tea and muffins while all I could do was bitch about how I was going to stink of bacon fat and try to keep my eyes open. Sometimes it frightens me how much I enjoy behaving like a complete cow.

In the end Dylan abandoned his attempts to jolly me up. I think the final straw was when he asked me if I was going to any festivals this summer. ‘We’re not friends, Dylan,’ I reminded him. ‘Things are completely crap between us, which is entirely your fault, so stop pretending that you give a shit.’

I can be quite the badass when I haven’t had my normal eight hours’ worth of shut-eye.

Jesus, I’ve turned into one of those boring people who bangs on and on about their job, like, the whole time.

I managed not to speak to Dylan all morning because I was serving out front but the atmosphere between us was still slightly more frosty than the North Pole. I’m also still not sleeping (maybe it has something to do with being on my own in the house?) and it makes me so touchy. No wonder his continued presence makes everything that much worse. I have to admit I’ve also been worrying about Poppy spending quality time with Dylan. They know each other to say hello to but she’s
my
friend.

I’ve worked really hard to make new friends that have nothing to do with my old friends and the thought of Dylan and Poppy even being in the same room for any amount of time makes me feel queasy. Not least because she knows that it’s hard for me to turn off my feelings for him, the kind of feelings that I’ve tried to bury really deep so no-one would know they were there.

But what the hell do I know? She came in to cover the lunchtime rush today and after ten minutes, the pair of them were acting like they’d been friends forever – it was enough to make me puke.

After lunch I went on my break and managed to grab an hour’s snooze on some sacks of flour in the storeroom and when I surfaced I felt relatively human again.

I bounded back into the kitchen and peered into the fridge.

‘I’m starving!’ I announced to Dylan who was spooning mayonnaise into little bowls. ‘Have we got any chicken left?’

‘Oh hi Edie, your evil twin was looking for you earlier,’ he said drily.

I pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said in a small voice because I had been acting like a bitch on wheels. ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night.’

Dylan gave me an all-penetrating look. ‘You don’t look like you’ve slept well in ages. You’ve got huge dark shadows under your eyes.’

‘Cheers for that, tact boy.’

‘It makes you look all mysterious,’ backtracked Dylan fast. ‘Like you’ve been staying up all night to write intense poetry.’

It was impossible to be mad at Dylan any longer. I just couldn’t do it. ‘Nothing that exotic,’ I told him with a smile. ‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind.’ Like you and your girlfriend’s brother, I added to myself.

But Dylan was nodding and making some sympathetic comment about my A-level results and how he knew I’d ace them.

I started making up the mixture for tomorrow’s muffins and sang along with the radio while Dylan did the washing up. I looked up from my stirring to find him watching me with a sad little smile.

‘What?’ I asked defensively.

He shook his head. ‘It’s weird seeing you in work mode, that’s all. I forget how capable you are.’

‘You and Carter both have a vested interest in treating me like a little girl half the time,’ I muttered darkly.

‘Is he being his usual overbearing self?’ asked Dylan with a cold edge to his voice.

I gulped. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’ There was a moment’s silence before I continued. ‘Anyway, yup, I’m a very capable girl, as my mum is always telling me, and I shall be taking over the world in approximately two years, three months and seventeen days.’

Dylan chuckled at that and made some sarky remark about me staging my first military coup before the end of summer.

We had such a good time this afternoon. We didn’t mention Veronique or Carter, just pratted about and sang along to Dylan’s iPod. And as I walked home I wished that it could be just me and Dylan again. Like how it was before but better ’cause I’d done loads of growing up since then and I really didn’t know how I was going to get through the summer having to see him every day. Plus the weather’s starting to get really hot and I’m probably going to die from chip fat inhalation.

Thank God for band rehearsals that save me from sinking into a big gloom about the thought of spending the summer in Manchester. I had a nap when I got in from work and a long L’Occitane Green Tea bubble bath-scented soak so I was feeling no pain. When I got to the rehearsal room that we’ve started to use, Atsuko and Darby were already there. And so was Grace, Poppy’s really shy little sister.

‘Hey,’ I said as I knelt on the floor to open my guitar case. ‘So, how many guys did you two pull the other night?’ I added, as Atsuko plonked herself down on the amp next to me.

‘Eight or nine,’ was the casual reply. ‘I lost count to tell you the truth.’

‘Oooh that’s so skeevy!’ I shuddered. ‘What about Darby?’

‘She ended up copping off with that art boy she’s fancied for the last six months,’ groaned Atsuko. ‘She’s spent all week clutching her mobile and waiting for him to call.’

‘Been there, done that, still working through the pain,’ I muttered.

‘So what did you and Carter get up to?’ Atsuko asked.

I winced. ‘Had a big argument about why I wouldn’t shag him.’

‘So the usual then?’ laughed Atsuko.

‘Yeah…’

‘Are you two going to gossip all day or are we going to work on songs for our first platinum-selling album?’ called Poppy from the stage where she’d been fiddling with her mike stand.

I think I’m turning into a rock chick on the quiet. Even though playing the guitar gives me backache and makes my fingers hurt, I’m really getting into throwing rock-god shapes as I actually make proper chords come out of my guitar. I even like singing (well, shouting if I’m being honest) on the choruses and doing harmonies while Poppy screams out lyrics about how crap boys are and how she’s actually a trained assassin. I spent most of the rehearsal thrusting out my hips and brandishing my guitar or trying to jump off the drum riser and master A flat diminished at the same time. I never thought I’d say it but I wish I’d paid more attention during GCSE Music. No wonder I only got a C.

I also love hanging out with girls. It’s not at all like hanging out with boys, for which I’m eternally grateful. It’s weird but being forced to join this band by Poppy has turned me into the fourth member of a gang and her and Atsuko and Darby have become my best friends. I’d forgotten how cool it was to have girl buds. I’d never burp in front of Dylan or try and turn a Pringle over in my mouth while Carter was watching but I can do all those things with these girls and it just makes them like me more.

We finished the rehearsal with our killer tune, Fang Boys Suck, our homage to
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
. I’d just managed to complete my guitar solo without making any mistakes and was concentrating on shouting, ‘Mr Pointy’s coming to get you, fang boy!’ at the top of my voice when I realised that Carter was leaning against a stack of broken amps by the door. I immediately hit a bum note earning me a glare from Poppy. And suddenly I thought, screw him! I was in a band. I had a job. I had a life away from him. He’d just have to deal with the real Edie instead of the embarrassed little girl I became when I was with him. I took that thought and ran with it or rather I stepped on to the drum riser for my final guitar flourish and jumped off as the song reached its noisy and dramatic final note.

There was a moment’s silence while we tried to catch our collective breath and then it was broken by the sound of Carter clapping. Not a sardonic slow hand-clap but proper applause.

‘That was fantastic,’ he exclaimed as he walked towards us. I pulled off my guitar and looked at the others.

‘We’re not really ready for an audience,’ Poppy said, but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Did you really think we were good? ’Cause we don’t want to be, like, a sad girly band but I think we kick ass in a tuneful way.’

‘I thought you were brilliant. All of you,’ said Carter with more enthusiasm than I’d ever heard him muster before. ‘Edgy but commercial too. Like this old girl band called The Raincoats.’

‘I
love
The Raincoats!’ squeaked Poppy.

And I was like, Carter is actually being genuinely nice and well, unCarterish to one of my friends? Must be a full moon.

Carter looked at me. ‘I never knew you could play so well,’ he said quietly. ‘You looked so cool.’

It was like Carter had been abducted by aliens. He helped us pack all our gear away in the rehearsal complex’s storeroom and insisted on taking us to the pub to buy us a congratulatory round. Poppy sent Grace off home ’cause we’d never get served anywhere with such an obviously underage girl in tow, and we walked to the Dry Bar which was just around the corner. Carter even held my hand
in the street
and kept shooting me admiring glances and smiling at me. I guess I should have let him come to rehearsals more often.

Poppy loved him because he knew about all the obscure indie bands that she was into. Atsuko and Darby were warming to him because he was their ‘in’ to a world of foxy art boys and even I managed to forget what a pig he’d been the night of the college graduation party because he was squeezing my hand and generally acting like I was a princess among (sort of) girlfriends. It was a complete revelation.

I broke up all the mutual admiration that was wafting about at ten o’clock when I said that I was going.

‘Oh, stay, Edie,’ whined Poppy. ‘It’s early.’

‘I’ve got to be at work by 8.30 all this week,’ I reminded her. ‘It’s OK for you, you don’t have to be in till lunchtime.’

‘Oh, oh, no fair,’ she continued to whimper as Darby’s mobile rang and she ran outside to take the call.

‘I smell art boy,’ said Atsuko tartly as I stood up and pulled on my cardie.

‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I said to Poppy, ‘And I’ll see you two soon,’ I said looking at Carter and Atsuko.

Carter was having none of it. ‘You getting the bus home?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah, it stops at the top of my road.’

He got up. ‘I’ll come with you. Well, I’ll walk you to the bus stop.’

I ignored Atsuko and Poppy’s raised eyebrows and smirks as Carter slung an arm round my shoulder and we walked out of the door.

Carter had made major concessions to actually behaving like a normal boyfriend but kissing in bus shelters was always going to be a step too far. He did hold my hand while we waited for the bus though.

‘I suppose you’re not going to let me come home with you?’ he eventually asked with a half-smile.

‘Hmmm, you suppose right,’ I told him.

He gave me a mock punch on the chin. ‘But you’ll think about what I said the other night, won’t you?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Look we’ve had a really nice evening, please don’t ruin it.’

‘I’m not,’ he protested. ‘I just know we’d be great together. I’d make it really good for you.’

‘There’s my bus,’ I said gratefully as it lurched into view. I turned to him. ‘Just give me some time, OK?’

He bent down and pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. ‘Make it soon, Edie.’

Life’s kind of rearranged itself into a routine over the last week. I work and try to pretend that I can handle spending large chunks of time with Dylan. I rehearse with the band. And I wait for Carter to call. And wait. And wait. I guess I could call him but I’m determined to win this round. So with all this working and longing and rehearsing and waiting, the days just seem to drift by.