I force myself to smile at her. “It’s OK, I can manage.”
She looks at me and raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes, absolutely.”
? ? ?
It turns out that actually, when it comes to getting ready to meet Ollie, I can’t manage at all. It’s half an hour since Megan left and my room looks like a nuclear clothes bomb has gone off. In my desperate whirlwind of trying things on and ripping them off again, not a single inch of bedroom space has been left untouched by some random article of clothing. I look at the stripy tights dangling forlornly from the light fixture and sigh. What am I going to wear?!
I’m in a real dilemma. The kind that people write to advice columns about. Normally, if I’m having any kind of fashion crisis, Elliot is the first person I turn to, but I can hardly imagine him wanting to help me when Ollie’s involved. I wander around my room sighing; even the sight of the sea on the horizon doesn’t make me feel any better. Not when I’ve got to be down by the sea in one hour’s time and I’M STILL NOT DRESSED!
Then a question forms in my mind. What would I wear if it were just up to me? I go over to the heap of clothes on the floor by my rocking chair and I pull out a black tea dress dotted with tiny purple hearts. I put it on with a pair of black opaque tights and look in the mirror. The dress is a perfect fit and makes my waist look really tiny. I’m about to pull on a pair of ballet pumps when that question pops into my head again. What would I wear if it were just up to me? I root around in the bottom of my wardrobe for my biker boots. Then I put on my black leather jacket.
“Don’t forget me!” my camera seems to call out to me. I stuff it into my pocket. I learned long ago never to leave my camera behind. It was always on the days when I left it at home that I’d see the best photo opportunities ever. And who knows what photo opportunities I might get with Ollie . . . ? I instinctively blush as I imagine Ollie asking if I can take a picture of him and me together. Even though I hate selfies, I might not mind a couple’s one . . . OK, so I might be getting a bit ahead of myself—but isn’t it every girl’s right to get a bit overexcited, when her biggest crush has just asked her out?
Chapter Seven
Of course, as soon as I get to the beach, my newfound confidence begins to slip. What if he doesn’t show up? What if it was all a prank? What if I trip just as he’s about to kiss me? Oh my God, what if he kisses me?! He’s not going to kiss you, you fool. On and on, my inner voice spirals into near hysteria.
I decide to walk to the café along the beach so that I can get closer to the sea in the hope that it might calm me down a bit. The pebbles are wet! You’re going to fall over! You’re going to fall over and end up with seaweed stuck to your bum, just like you did at Tom’s birthday barbecue. I slow right down. The sea is nice and calm and the winter sunshine sparkles on it like a sprinkling of glitter. I take in a deep breath of the salty air. And another. What if a seagull poos on your head?! “Shut up!” I mutter out loud but I look up quickly to check there are no gulls hovering. When I look back down, Ollie is standing a few feet in front of me.
“How did you get there?” is the first thing I can think to say.
“I walked,” he says, looking at me weirdly. “Are you OK? You looked as if you were talking to yourself.”
“What? Oh no, I was just—I was just—singing.”
“Singing?”
“Yes, you know, like, a song.”
“Yes, I know what singing is.”
“Of course you do. Soz.” Soz?!! Since when did I ever say “soz”?! I’ve been with Ollie for precisely ten seconds and already he must think I’m a singing, sozzing loony. This doesn’t bode well for our lunch at all.
“Have you got your camera on you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply, my heartbeat quickening—could he be about to ask for a photo of us already?! “Why?”
“I was just wondering if you could take a few headshots of me, down here on the beach. I could really do with some, you know, like arty ones for my profile online. And you’re such an awesome photographer.” He dazzles me with one of his megawatt smiles.
“Oh. OK.” I don’t know what to make of this. Surely this isn’t the reason he invited me to meet him? No, he definitely said lunch yesterday. The photos must be an extra. Something he just thought of. I tell myself not to be so stupid and take my camera from my pocket.
“I was thinking maybe we could take some over by the pier.”
“Sure.”
As we start walking along the beach, a woman jogger passes us and smiles. I feel a surge of happiness. It must look to her as if Ollie and I are “together.” If only it could feel a bit more relaxed and enjoyable. I search my brain for something interesting—and non-embarrassing—to say.
“So, you must be really proud of your brother.”
Ollie looks at me blankly. “Why?”
“Well, with him being so good at tennis.”
Ollie mutters something and stares out to sea. There’s something about his serious expression and the way the light is falling on his face, accentuating his cheekbones, that would make an awesome black-and-white shot.
“Hold it right there,” I say, turning my camera on.
“What?” Ollie frowns at me.
“Keep that expression and look out to sea again. It’ll make a really cool picture.”
“Oh, right.” Instantly, Ollie’s expression softens and he looks back at the sea. “How about this?”
“Perfect.”