18th

"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness." - Maya Angelou.

Yesterday, after my brief conversation with Ed, I'd told myself that I don't need Imogen's friendship. I was wrong. Oh my God, I was wrong.

I feel distinctly bare as I enter the classroom for registration, without my best friend to be my shield. It only makes the loneliness worse when I glance across the classroom and see her chatting animatedly to Kayleigh and some other popular girls. Like I don't even exist.

Sucking in a deep breath, I head over to my seat and pull out my iPod, turning on my special playlist from my Secret Santa. At least I know that, regardless of what else is going on, I have this one anonymous person to rely on to keep the loneliness at bay.

The majority of my day is spent like that, with nothing but the music in my earphones to keep me company.

At lunchtime I go to my locker to find a thin envelope almost impossible to spot amongst my books. Heart pounding, I snatch it up and stuff it in my pocket.

As I make my way to the safe haven of the school library, possibilities race through my head. Is it another letter, like on the first day?

Once in the recluse of the near-deserted library, my fingers make swift work of tearing open the envelope. Inside is a piece of paper, which I unfold to find covered in the same handwriting that I've become so familiar with. The red ink has bled a little into the paper; I have to focus in order to read it.

I do not love you

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

My eyes scan over the words, then again. I know this poem. I recognise it instantly as my favourite work by Pablo Neruda, whose poetry I adore. But this is impossible; as far as I can remember, I have never shared my love of poetry, much less any specifics.

If Imogen and I were still on speaking terms I could casually drop it into conversation, in case it turns out I've mentioned it without realising. But obviously that's not going to happen any time soon.

The idea of this Secret Santa knowing me so intimately that they even know my favourite poem is slightly unsettling. I mean, of course they are somebody who knows me, but I didn't realise they were so close to me.

I read through the poem once more before I realise, with a jolt, that my cheeks are wet with tears. Blushing despite the fact there's nobody around to see me, I stuff the paper back into its envelope, then into my bag.

The end of the lunch hour is fast approaching, so I wipe my eyes with the sleeves of my school sweater and stand up. For a moment I consider plugging my earphones back in, but decide that a personalised, touching playlist isn't going to help with my abnormally tearful state.

❅

Ed's face lights up as I approach him. I give him a watery smile back, for the first time all day.

"Hey, you ready?" he asks, gesturing towards the gates. Once we're out and walking side by side down the road towards the town centre, he speaks again. "I'm pretty glad you weren't with Imogen; I mean, I like her, but not as much as I like you."

"Well, you don't have to worry about her, we're not exactly hanging out together at the moment," I reply, unable to prevent the smug smirk that creeps into my expression.

I picture Imogen with Kayleigh, then think of how my new friend is far higher on the popularity scale than hers - a scale that she cares so much about and Ed thankfully appears to disregard as adamantly as me.

"Oh," Ed says, clearly downbeat until I question him as to who exactly it is we're on our way to meet.

"Just wait and see!" he exclaims. "Don't worry, he's great."

"Oh, so they're a he, then?" I reply, attempting to channel Sherlock Holmes but instead just succeeding to make Ed laugh at me.

It turns out I don't have time to use my detective skills to probe any further, because moments later we're entering an American-style diner. The diner is relatively busy, mainly scattered with school kids like myself.

Ed makes a beeline to a booth at the back where a boy around our age is sitting alone. I follow, then stop and watch as the boy stands up and pulls Ed into a tight embrace.

Only when they kiss, do I start to feel awkward. They seem to have momentarily forgotten my existence. It seems that right now I'm, like, the world's most uncomfortable third wheel.

At last, Ed and the other boy break apart and turn to face me. Ed's cheeks are slightly pink as he says, "So, Scarlett, this is my boyfriend, Simon."

Simon is tall, with dark hair and eyes. Somehow, despite the fact they look like opposites, he seems to fit with Ed. He looks me up and down, then thrusts his hand out. I feel extremely formal as I shake it. Next to us, Ed just laughs.

As Simon and Ed slip into the space in the booth opposite me, I attract the attention of a nearby waitress. I barely ate anything for lunch; only now I'm in a vaguely better mood am I realising just how hungry I am.

"A large fries and a chocolate milkshake, please," I say to the waitress as I sit down. After scribbling down the other orders (both also fries), she rushes off with the promise of our food arriving quickly. I hope so; my stomach is rumbling at the thought.

When I turn away from her, I notice Simon watching me intently. I shift awkwardly until he lets up his gaze, instead directing it towards Ed. "Hey, you never told me that Scarlett's Australian."

Honestly, I'm surprised (and slightly flattered) that he noticed; my accent isn't prominent enough for most people to realise I'm not just English. Moreover, I want to know how much they have been discussing me.

"Yeah," I reply, about to say more when I see Ed's smile drop. I swivel in my seat to see what could have driven away his ever-present grin.

A woman with a young child at a table not far from us is glaring in this direction. She mutters something obscene, barely in earshot. Unsurprisingly, even Ed - who usually isn't fazed by any form of attention - looks upset, or rather... irritated. The lady speaks again, this time a little louder, so that other people in the diner begin to stare. The rudeness isn't even directed towards me, but I begin to feel oddly ashamed. I hate it.

Then, Simon takes me completely by surprise as he slowly, gracefully lifts his middle finger towards the scowling woman, before intertwining the same hand with Ed's. She looks away abruptly and Simon gives a smug smile.

I decide that I definitely like him.

When the food arrives minutes later and the pair don't even disentangle their hands to eat, it's obvious that Ed definitely likes him too.

"So, how long have you two been together?" I enquire.

Simon shrugs, "Since March."

I raise my eyebrows, impressed by both the length of their relationship so far and the fact I've heard not a single mention of it at school.

"I wanted you to meet him, not only because you're my friend, but I feel like you have a right to know after all those rumours," Ed tells me as he picks up a fry with his free hand. I roll my eyes at the mention of that gossip, then can't help but giggle at how it was even more ludicrous a lie than I'd thought.

"So you're really not dating me."

"Nah, I think my boyfriend here wouldn't be too impressed," he laughs. "Besides, no offence but I wouldn't want to make out with anyone other than Si, especially a girl."

We make idle small talk for a while. Or, at least, Simon and Ed talk - I just nod along and speak when necessary; this chocolate milkshake is far too good to be ignored for the sake of sociability.

I'm finishing the last of my fries and watching Simon feed Ed the last few of his own, when their public display of affection makes me realise something. In his always ongoing chatter about everything and anything, Ed has never even mentioned a boyfriend, or even his sexuality at all.

"Wait," I say, pausing to get the remnant salt off my fingertips. "You never told me about Simon before."

Ed's cheeks flush slightly pink. "Well, I never really told anyone, to be honest. At least, nobody from school."

"So, as far as the student body is concerned, you're straight."

"I mean, I never exactly hid it, or anything; I'm sure a few of my friends have their presumptions, but I never exactly came out," he explains. "Everyone has this 'straight until proven otherwise' mentality, so according to them that's what I am."

"Until now," I add, with a gesture to the other customers at the diner, the majority of whom attend our school.

"Yeah, uh, until now." Ed's blushing properly now. I notice Simon giving his hand a squeeze. "I figured I had to go public about it eventually and after all those rumours it seemed like it was gonna be now."

It dawns on me then.

"So that's why you were so mad at those rumours," I say. Ed nods.

I feel slightly embarrassed; I got so worked up about those rumours when, as frustrating as they were, they didn't relate to anything as serious as my sexuality.

"I guess in a way it was useful; it gave me a reason to summon my courage to come out, plus a quick way to extinguish the gossip, but still..." he trails off. Simon kisses his cheek quickly.

The mood feels too sombre, too deep, for what was supposed to be a light-hearted meeting, until a young child across the diner suddenly exclaims, "SNOW!"

Every head in the room seems to whip round simultaneously to look out of the large windows onto the street. To my disappointment, I see that what the toddler mistook for snow is intact sleet: wet, sludgy stuff that falls in sheets. Not exactly idillic winter weather against the rapidly darkening evening sky.

Sighing, I pull my phone out of my pocket and see that the time is fast approaching five o'clock. I have to interrupt the boyfriends who are now whispering to each other and giggling.

"You two are so cute, it makes me sick," I comment, but there's a smile playing on my lips. God knows I would love that kind of happiness with someone.

After brief goodbyes, Ed, Simon and I all head our separate ways. Typically, the buses are all running late (adverse weather conditions, of course) and it works out quicker for me to just walk home.

As I trudge down the road, getting soaked by the disgusting sleet, I spot another couple squashed into a shop doorway to shelter. They're laughing together, much like the way Ed and Simon were for the majority of the afternoon. I'm not the only one facing the weather though; not far ahead of me are three girls who appear to be completely unfazed by the fact they're soaked through.

It reminds of the way Immy and I are.

Were.

When one of them slips, then the other two rush to pull her up - snickering all the while - I decide resolutely that I will fix things with Imogen. Hanging around with Ed is nice enough, but he's got Simon, plus a whole host of other friends. 

Plus, I can count the amount of 'fights' that I've had with Imogen on one hand, whereas I can't even begin to fathom how many good times there have been in the space of ten months or so. I can't keep pushing people I care about away the moment things get rough; isn't that what I spent all too much time doing back in Perth?

note: i'm so glad i got to introduce simon because i love him a lot (also sorry to the people who've said they ship scarlett and ed lol)

votes and comments are always appreciated ily - ella x

oh and also this chapter is dedicated to @postnotes for being awesome ok bye