Page 144 of How We Began

One month, four days to go, my chest feels heavier and heavier with every passing day. The knot of anxiety in my stomach is now a burning inferno.

12th May

I’m desperately racking my brain trying to think of a song that I may like. Why don’t I have a favourite song? What does this mean? Am I some sort of emotional degenerate who can’t manage to even have strong feelings about something as straightforward as a song?

I was going to ask Baz at work, but I know he’ll think it’s odd. Also Ben came to work with me, which was great because I didn’t eat a week’s worth of calories in one day, or lose at poker. But it also meant that I couldn’t scroll through Baz’s extensive collection on Apple Music. I’ll have to put off my ‘favourite song’ finding endeavour until I am by myself.

After work it was such a lovely evening that Ben and I decided to walk down High Street and along the Thames, then we found a great little pub where we settled in for a few hours of beer and crisps until it began to get dark. We walked back home holding hands, stepping in time with one another as he shielded me from the oncoming traffic.

Perfect.

14th May

I’ve come to the Barnes flat—I couldn’t do this at Halls because Ben would know what I was up to. Tristan is not here, which is great because I’m on a mission. I am going to become a track-skipping ninja. I point-blank refuse to not have a favourite song, so I’m going to listen to every song I’ve ever downloaded in a bid to find it. If I still don’t have one, I’m going to listen to every song that Tristan has downloaded until I find one, and so on.

(Later)

“Lilah? What are you doing?” Tristan asked.

“Looking for something.”

“I see that, Sis. But why are you assaulting my ears with your singing while doing it?”

I sat down with a bump and started to cry. Tristan stepped over to me, precariously tiptoeing over the mountain of mess I created while pacing the room.

“Why can’t I find a favourite song?” I wailed, tears flowing.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Yesss.” I sniffed, wiping my nose up my arm. “Why don’t I have one?”

“You know, Lilah,” Tristan said softly, “I don’t think you get to pick the song. I think it will probably end up picking you.”

“Well, I hope it hurries the fuck up. Ben’s leaving in just over a month and I can’t even tell him what my favourite song is. He’s going to think I am an emotionless moron.”

* * *

15TH MAY

I woke up this morning to find that someone has cranked the heating up; not inside the dormitory, but outside. Summer has arrived and the campus has exploded into an array of sunshine and colour, green grass and the squawk of geese. The guys are playing football on the lawn, whilst all the girls lounge on blankets, pretending to study their books (Jayne is in her element). All the girls apart from me, that is. I’m not bothering with pretending; I’m just sitting here and staring.

Is there anything sexier in this world than lying on a picnic blanket in the steaming sun next to an outrageously handsome man? Nope, there is not.

Ben had flopped down next to me, his chest rising and falling from running. “Have you finished playing football?” I asked, tracing my fingers over his closed eyelids, memorising the faint blue lines under the skin.

“Mmm, what did you have in mind?”

Silently I shifted myself over and kissed along his exposed collar bone, tasting the faint hint of salt and sunshine on his skin. My lips moved further up his neck until finally reaching his lips: lips that were smiling under my own as my hand ran under his T-shirt.

“So that is what you want to do.”

I stood up and tugged at his hand.

* * *

16TH MAY

More sitting on the grass, drinking beer, and pretending to read books.