He's After Me - By Chris Higgins Page 0,4
you.’
‘See you Monday.’ Zoe gives me a hug. I make my way through the mall, head down, trying to avoid the couples with their arms wrapped around each other. Am I the only single in the world? Suddenly I go slap-bang into someone. I hear them grunt like the air’s been knocked clean out of them and my bag goes flying.
‘Sorry!’ I say. ‘My fault. Sorry!’
‘You!’
I stare into a pair of surprised eyes. I don’t believe it! It’s him again. The boy from the bus. I look around for my bag but he beats me to it. He picks it up along with its scattered contents and hands it back to me. Our hands touch. I can feel my cheeks burning.
‘Are you stalking me?’ he says.
‘No!’
‘Only we keep bumping into each other.’
‘I never saw you before last night!’
‘And this morning.’ He grins and I realize he’s winding me up. He’s gorgeous when he smiles. ‘Do you live in the Docklands?’
‘No. My dad does. With his girlfriend.’
‘That old warehouse they’ve done up?’
‘Yeah, Wharfside. Top floor.’
He nods, studying me, like he likes what he sees. ‘What’s she like?’
‘Who?’
‘The girlfriend?’
He obviously wants to talk. I shrug my shoulders and the corner of my mouth curls. He laughs out loud. ‘That good, hey?’
‘We call her The Bitch.’
‘Some girls are,’ he says and nods understandingly. I wonder if he’s been hurt. His dark eyes are studying me. ‘Look,’ he says, then he hesitates, like he’s about to say something important and doesn’t know how. My heart starts racing. He’s going to ask me out.
‘Anna? Anna!’
Oh no! I’d know that voice anywhere. I turn around to see my father waving at me. Behind him, Jude emerges from a shop doorway. I groan aloud.
‘That’s all I need. My dad – and he’s got The Bitch with him.’
The boy’s eyes shift past me and he takes a step backwards.
‘See you around then,’ he says and I want to say, ‘No, wait!’ but instead I echo, ‘Yeah, see you around,’ and he walks away.
Thanks, Dad. You don’t just screw your own relationships up, you screw mine too.
The only guy I’ve been remotely interested in for ages and I don’t even know his name.
CHAPTER FOUR
By Saturday night I’m totally pissed off.
I didn’t waste much time talking to Dad and Jude, needless to say. It was pretty obvious by the speed in which The Bitch had appeared back on the scene that her weekend away was a fabrication. Once she’d discovered the fledglings had flown the nest, the cuckoo was straight back in.
Mum’s out when I get home and there’s no sign of Livi, surprise, surprise. I bung a pizza in the oven, forgetting until I sit down to eat it that I’d had one last night. There’s nothing worth watching on television so I put on a DVD, but I’ve seen it before too many times.
I go on Facebook. Mistake. I trawl through pics of people off their heads and reply to messages from people having the best time of their lives.
Why is everyone else having a better life than me? I ask myself. And how come I have so many hundreds of friends online, but no one to spend Saturday night with?
Not quite true. Ben has asked me if I want to try again. He does this all the time. Tonight I’m almost tempted because I’m so fed up. But you can’t try to love someone. You either do or you don’t. And liking’s not enough.
Heaving a big, sad sigh, I go to switch the computer off. Then I pause. I have a new friend request.
It’s from Jem Smith.
Who’s Jem Smith?
Who cares? I need all the friends I can get.
Confirm.
His profile comes up. I click on the picture to make it bigger and my heart soars.
It’s him!
How did he know my name?
A new message has appeared.
The lounge door opens. It’s Mum. Both of us jump a mile.
‘Don’t do that!’
‘What?’
‘Sneak up on me like that!’
‘I thought you were at your father’s for the weekend. Where’s Livi?’
‘With her mates.’
She looks contrite. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I wouldn’t have gone out if I’d known you were here on your own.’
‘Mum, I’m fine.’
She comes and stands beside me.
God, she wants to talk.
‘Decided not to stay at the apartment then?’
‘No.’
Silence as she waits for more. She wants to know what it’s like there and why I decided to come home, but she doesn’t want to pry. After a while, she says, ‘Are you on Facebook?’
‘Yes.’
She looks at the screen. I minimize it.
‘Who are you talking