Page 11 of How We Began

A boy who holds my hand and who somehow makes silence seem profound.

I bet he’s a good kisser too.

God. I’m useless.

24th September

I’ve come straight to the library after lectures so I can try and get some studying done. And yes, I’m aware writing in my diary is the opposite of studying, but I’ve done a little work and my mind needs a mini break. Plus, I needed a record of my incredible restraint after the text exchange that just happened.

Meredith: At the bar with Ben and the others, come and join us…

Damn it, was the first thing that came to mind. Now, here comes my restraint…

Me: I’m studying and very important. When I’m employed by the BBC as a history specialist, you’ll regret going to the bar so much.

But damn it, again. I could have spent time with Ben. But then I suppose I could do that if I weren’t a total moron and just knocked on his door.

I can’t. What if he doesn’t want me to knock? What if he’s busy, or the hand holding the other day was just his way of being polite? I mean, it was polite, very polite indeed. And he did ask me out, but then maybe he made a mistake and had me confused with someone else? It could happen.

To me.

It could definitely happen to me that the hot guy in the room next door would ask me out by mistake.

Right… study.

(5.30 p.m.)

I wonder if they are still at the bar? It’s been long enough now that it looks like I’ve put some serious studying effort in and haven’t just been hiding up here.

I need to uncover his flaw—obviously, I’m still talking about Ben. Everyone has one, right? Mine is that I drink too much Pinot and tend not to finish anything I start—oh, and I run away as a matter of course.

Ben’s got to have a flaw I can find so I can get him out of my head.

Oooh, a text message.

Unknown: Tacos in 15 if you want. B. x

Ben’s number… I’ve added it under favourites.

(9.30 p.m.)

I’m lying in bed, listening to Ben play guitar through the wall. It’s my new favourite thing, I love it more than breathing—okay, maybe I love it more than bacon, but not breathing because then I’d be dead and not able to listen anymore.

When his text came through, I packed up my stuff at superhuman speed then ran out of the library as quick as my legs could carry me.

Mer was drunk, which Ben seemed to think was amusing, although he seemed sober himself. I couldn’t ask, “Oh, did you guys have fun without me?”

No. Stalker.

Instead, I stared at his arse in his low-slung jeans as he cooked.

It was all a bit gratuitous and I’m feeling guilty about it now.

When I washed up after dinner, he sat on the work-surface and chatted, drying the plates as I passed them along. I managed to drop four plates due to extreme lack of attention. It was hard to concentrate on anything because my heart was racing nineteen to the dozen. Luckily, the plates all bounced. Clearly not fine China.

Ben laughed when the fourth plate slipped out of my soapy hand.

“Are you always this clumsy, Lilah?” he asked.