Super Awkward (6 page)

He moved a hand to the back of my neck.

I needed days, weeks to prepare for this sort of thing. This was NOT FAIR. When had I brushed my teeth? Was it ages since I had put on my strawberry lip-balm, or was it too recent and I smelt like pudding? I hadn't breathed for thirty seconds; why hadn't I fainted yet? Why was my saliva the consistency of nail varnish that I'd left the lid off?

He pressed his lips into mine.

KISS ALERT. KISS ALERT. We had contact!
I,
Bella Fisher, was being officially being kissed by the Grand High Lord Of Hotness and his sexy pouty bottom lip and equally as hot but less pouty top lip. Award for Happiest Moment Of My Life goes to NOW. (And also Most Terrifying, in a double winning twist.)

It felt soft, and warm, and amazing, and way better than two people just touching talking apparatus should feel. My head span with all the magazine tips I'd ever read. ‘How to guarantee your first kiss won't be your last.' ‘Be natural.'

BELLA.BELLA.BELLA.

‘Don't use too much tongue.' ‘Don't use too little tongue.' ‘Lean.' ‘Close eyes.' ‘Don't bash teeth.' ‘Don't panic about those weird suction noises or who was making them' (it was deffo me). ‘Follow his lead.' ‘Make your own leads.' ‘Remember everything.' ‘Don't overthink it.'

BELLA.BELLA. BELLS.

Jo?

BELLA. BELLINGTON BOOT.

I opened one eye to work out what was happening. All I could really see was Zac's stubbly (eek, stubble!) face so near mine he looked like one big fit blur. But something glinted at the edge of the clearing.
Something
was pushing through the trees. Oh, holy meatballs. I knew EXACTLY what that something was.

“WOW – sorry. I didn't know I was interrupting anything.”

Zac stepped back, confused. Probably his first ever sub-three second snog.

A hugely annoyed Jo crossed her arms.

I willed myself to disintegrate.

I'm pretty sure number one on the list of things not to do when snogging a hot boy is bite his tongue off. And number two is be interrupted by an older, and totally raging, sibling.

“Bella – I've been looking for you for HOURS. I've been worried sick.”

Yup, Zac, I'm the kind of hot, independent girl who has to be babysat by her big sister. I couldn't bring myself to even look in his direction. I was so hot with embarrassment I worried I could ignite the last few bits of cardboard still clinging to my waist.

“Go. Away.” I spat my words out.

Zac shuffled awkwardly. He made a little cough.

“Erm, sorry to be a bit slow. But what's going on here?”

“Good to know you can speak when you haven't got your tongue shoved down my little sister's throat.”

AS
IF SHE JUST SAID THAT. Could she BE any more awful? Please don't let my ears have heard right.

“Don't be such a cowbag. I'll see you back home.” But she didn't move. “. . . OK?!”

Despite Jo being way out of order, Zac tried to break the tension.

“We
were
about to head back anyway?”

“Oh, were you? Cos Bella is coming back with me. NOW.”

Jo grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away. I wrenched it free, but the damage had already been done. I was a total loser, and Zac had only needed ninety-five minutes to work it out.

Jo hissed “Come on” and ducked under the first branch.

I paused for a final glimpse of Zac. How had it gone so wrong so quickly?! Best moment ever had nose-dived to the worst. This was the first proper silence we'd had since we'd met.

Zac put his finger to his lips and whispered.

“Maybe it's a bad time, or whatever. But . . . lunch? Tomorrow?”

OUT-LOUD GULP. Sorry, what? I was not expecting that?! Has Fittie McFittington, who I'd kicked, talked to about slugs, half-snogged, and just
been
sister-shamed in front of, just asked to see ME? For a second time? I pinched myself to check this was real. Ouch. It hurt more that I meant it to. I looked up at Zac. He'd totally seen. He kindly pretended not to have seen the thing we both knew he just saw. “Up to you . . . no pressure?”

Maybe no pressure from him, but serious pressure from my future self to not make the worst decision of my life. I checked Jo was far enough away to be out of convo-range.

“Deffo. Let's do it.” If it was ‘up to me' I'd happily chain myself to his ankle on the spot, but that probably wouldn't help raise his opinion of me.

“Main block. Midday.” Perfect. We weren't leaving till five. He gave me a short one-handed wave. How could he even look hot in silhouette?

I waved like a robot as I ran through hilarious options of what to say back. My first impression had been terrible, so I should make the last one a high. But Jo reappeared and grabbed at my wrist, nearly toppling me over a badly placed tree stump.

“WIX.” I shouted back after him as I got dragged out of view.

No, Bella. No. Tell me your final word hadn't been an abbreviation of ‘wicked'?!

Jo
and I marched back to the caravan, hurling insults at each other. She couldn't believe I'd been ‘soooo selfish', I couldn't believe she had deliberately ruined any chance I'd had with Zac.

When we finally got back, Mum was still out moonlight meditating, so Jo pushed me for details on exactly who Zac was. I told her I didn't want to talk about anything. She ignored me and asked me where her other shoe was. I told her I was a footwear freedom fighter and had returned it to the wild. I was going to be in big trouble when Mum was back.

Despite never feeling more awake, I climbed into bed, pulling the duvet over my head and pretending I couldn't hear Jo drone on 1.5 metres away. It was hard to be alone in a room which was three people's bedroom, kitchen and lounge.

I'd just had the best and worst night of my life and all I wanted to do was replay every Zac second – Zecond – that had happened. The way his hair got ruffled by all the twigs. The way his scar wiggled when he laughed. The way his jacket smelt. The way it felt when he'd half-kissed me. . . Although, I never wanted to replay the look on his face when Jo arrived. Was there
any way
he'd ever want to attempt an actual full snog ever again? Maybe if I made an amazing
impression
at the lunch. I looked at my watch. I did still have twelve hours to practise interesting conversation topics. I could even steal Jo's perfume so I smell a bit older.

I set my alarm for the picnic and drifted off to sleep, Zac running through my mind. But it wasn't my clock that woke me up, it was Mum – with the most alarming news.

CHAPTER

SIX

11.30 a.m. – thirty minutes until the scene of the biggest-crush-crammed-total-love-packed-mind-meltingly-so-dreamy-and-hot-that-a-bit-of-sick-almost-comes-up-in-my-mouth-whenever-I-think-about-it moment my life will ever experience. AKA Zac time.

I should be counting down the 1800 seconds until I get to witness his fitness.

I should be planning how I can redeem myself for last night.

I should be putting the finishing touches to my mascara and checking for black eye bogies.

I should be getting Jo to take a video of me doing various everyday poses so I can check I haven't got VPL.

I
should be about to meet up with the only boy who has ever swept me off my feet. (Well, technically, I swept him, but that's just detail.)

But I'm doing none of these things.

I'm panicking.

I'm losing my mind.

I'm on the verge of tears, but they're not coming cos I'm so angry they've got blocked somewhere in the system.

And I am SO mad at Mum.

Yesterday's snogteruption scores a ZERO in relation to this. This isn't just a step too far, it's a gold-medal-winning triple jump past the boundary of acceptable motheringdom. Today is the day I know for certain she officially doesn't care about my life.

Instead of what I
should
be doing, what I'm
actually
doing is staring at the back of Jo's head feeling sick because of the combination of Mum's bad driving and dealing with my life being ruined.

Can hearts actually stop when they realize there's no point in carrying on, cos the one chance they had at being happy in life has been abandoned in Wales?

NO work emergency is a good enough excuse for Mum waking me up at six a.m.. NO life crisis gives her the right to herd us out of the caravan in a frantic
departure
fifteen minutes later. I'm not a pot plant – I have rights! I can't just be transported against my wishes! Mum always nagged me to enjoy Black Bay, and now I finally was, we're 280 miles away.

“Come on, love. You have to say
something
. Or are you planning on keeping silent for the rest of your life?” This was Mum's fifth attempt at talking. Considering all of her spiritual development this week, she was still exceptionally bad at reading minds.

“I have nothing to say.”

“You just said
that
.” Eye-roll. How dare Jo say
I'm
behaving like a child, when she says stuff like that? Was she nineteen or nine? I kneed her chair. I hate them both right now.

I had a date. A real date. Well, sort-of date. With the best person I've ever met. And they're making
me
stand
him
up. Which doesn't even make sense, as I'm not even standing, I'm sitting, really annoyed. And I bet he is too. This was meant to be my chance to win him back round, not annoy him so much I got relegated out of both the friend AND casual-acquaintance zone. I don't even have his last name.

I pulled Jo's red top out of my bag and stuck it under my nose. I'd stashed it for the journey, just in case it had any of Zac's smell left in it from his jacket. I might
not
have his name, or any way of speaking to him
ever
again, but I
do
have a fifty per cent acrylic top that kind of smells a bit of him if I try and block out my sweat.

MMMM. Zac. If I was less selfish, I should probably let a museum know, so they could pickle him and exhibit him for all to see.

As I inhaled, Jo reached around the headrest and grabbed it out of my hands.

“I'll be having that.”

She has no respect for priceless artefacts. Heartifacts.

“Oi, it's mine . . . Sort of.”

Her annoying face reflected back at me in the mirror.

“If by
yours
, you mean
mine
, then yes it is.”

Mum cleared her throat. The signal she's about to say something mum-y. She was fed up of us arguing all morning.

“You
do
need to be bit more careful of your sister's things, Bella. I heard what happened to her shoe last night.”

No, Mother, you heard a Zac-less version of what happened to that shoe last night. Still, I was in no hurry for Jo to tell her the full Bella-met-a-boy-she-likes-and-so-you'll-ask-over-one-million-questions story.
But
I figured there was no way she was going to risk a retaliation blab about her semi-losing me.

“You're going to have to put some money towards a new pair, you know?”

I grunted. Luckily they didn't know the shoe was actually priceless. A foot-shaped cupid's arrow, without which I would never have met/maimed Zac. I'd happily sell my left arm to be with him right now – in fact, I'd give it away for free. Although I'm not sure who'd want a spare left arm, especially as it can't throw anything beyond 3.5 metres. It even disappoints our dog, Mumbles.

Zac
will
see that our caravan had been packed up and we've left, won't he? I
should
have left a note. Even if it only said, ‘Sorry for saying wix.'

I think I might actually love him.

But what does it matter. I'm never going to see him again. I should try and put myself off him to make this thought more bearable.

I did the ‘think about him having a poo' trick. But picturing his scruffy morning-hair in combo with a loose white T-shirt that he'd probably slept in just made me fancy him more. PJ-upped Zac = hotness, poo or no poo.

What about the LOVE test? I got my phone out and
typed
in what I had of our names. ‘Bella Fisher LOVES Zac'. I counted up the letters. Forty-six per cent. But if I knew his last name I'm
sure
it'd rocket up into the nineties. Especially if it's Voles. Bella Voles – that works for me.

Although hang on. There was
one
thing I knew about him.

Over a dodgy motorway phone signal, I downloaded
PSSSST
. But my heart immediately sank as I realized you could only get a live feed of posts. There was no way to search for what he'd shown me yesterday. Another Zac dead-end.

But as I went to delete it, I paused. Maybe, just maybe, if I read it every day I
might
see one of Zac's posts. Recognize his mum stories. Be able to send him a direct message? Eurgh, it would be like trying to find a camouflaged needle in an anonymous haystack, but any chance was better than no chance.

I punched in my details and up popped the anonymous name it generated for me – PruneFlapper. It sounded like the kind of job I'd end up in. Next it suggested a random list of people to follow. If
only
I'd got Zac's username. I clicked away and soon anonymous secrets started to scroll past. But as I started to read them, a message filled up the screen: ‘
Don't just stare,
you
gotta share!'
Ew – I can't just laugh at other people's misfortune on
PSSSST
, I was going to have to share my own?!

I looked at Jo bouncing up and down happily to Mum's panpipe musical torture. Suck-up. Maybe
she
could help
me
out for a change.

MY STRAIGHT-A SISTER THOUGHT THAT WHEN