Chapter Eighteen

S T U M B L E

Sunday, June 28th

"Breakfast wraps are where it's at," Joel proudly exclaims, biting into his with feverish hunger. Both him and Ruby are currently nursing a hangover, though you'd never be able to tell. They look as fresh as daisies. Skin glowing with the excitement for the final day, clean set of clothes on.

By contrast I look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards, hair wild and a tangled mess even though I'd only slept in one uncomfortable position all night. Arms pressed firmly to my sides, careful not to hit Dylan with them, kick out of my sleeping back like I normally would back home in my own bed. Thankfully it seems like I've made it through, and he's not sporting a black eye so it's all good.

"What time are you playing later?" Ruby asks Joel, finishing off the last of her runny ham and cheese omelette as we convene in the middle of our camp, chairs out and last nights debris all around us.

Like a mini apocalypse has hit, which is how I'd describe the festival experience so far. If the end of the world came none of us would know any different, because the Guest campsite is but a muddy bog now, litter everywhere, beer bottles, condom wrappers, and broken glow sticks the only remains from a mental Saturday night. We've already come across five broken and discarded tents, and lots of burnt cardboard boxes.

I'm sure that there's plenty of health and safety rules broken this morning, and I wonder if I'm at all cut out for the deja vu of another day. One that's admittedly sunnier and warmer but still smelly, and long. I shouldn't be counting down the hours but last night left a lot to be desired, Dylan falling asleep, Ruby and Joel drunk, that I'm seriously wishing the hours away till my next hot shower.

"Four thirty, main stage got to head over for sound check later," he replies, sunglasses on like the mini rock star persona he's so trying hard to cultivate. We've already had a couple of interruptions so far, the last being a girl asking for Joel to sign is name in thick black marker across her chest which he dutifully obliges to.

When we're full of energy to spend, Dylan and I wander across the bridge to catch a couple of bands that he's overheard are well worth a watch. Ruby's happy to follow Joel and go backstage, which allows us the time to be alone. Finally.

"I must have completely been wiped last night. Did I fall asleep before you got back? I don't remember," Dylan says as we stand, heads bopping to the chorus of a folk singer, guitar in arms. He plays Brown Eyed Girl, dedicates it to his fiancé, much to the delight of the audience who sing, and clap along. It's a nice moment, one that warms the soul because the weather surely can't. Because we're back to the wind and rain after a short spell of sunshine.

"You were asleep when I came back, didn't want to wake you."

"Ah man. All of this is a lot more tiring than I expected," he laughs, small camera round his neck. To capture some of the atmosphere, and use for the magazines write up next week.

"Same," I sigh. I'm seriously lagging, and my choice of attire for the day - another dress and jacket combo had been chosen to compliment the warmer weather. Now that it's pissed off I'm shivering, and my bare legs are numb. The rain mac I'd stuffed into my small bag coming to the rescue yet again.

Dylan's got another denim shirt on, and an old bulky jacket. He looks considerably cosier than I do.

"So not ready for work next week," I say as we cross fields and mud to reach the banks of the river for a performance by a dance troupe. "Though I am looking forward to a long hot shower."

"Amen to that."

"Got to hope that when I get back to my flat tomorrow morning there's enough water left."

He helps me squeeze in front of the large crowd that's gathered, his chest against my back. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Though you know you can always come over to mind after, if you want. Plenty of hot water."

Luckily he can't feel my temperature rise or my cheeks sting because I'm facing away but maybe he can sense I'm coyly avoiding answering. Unsure if it's a wise idea though it is increasingly tempting. My mind running off into tangents, to only imagine how such an innocent offer might end in something altogether naughtier.

And when I join the queue for a slice of soggy pizza and a bottle of fizz that costs more than my weekly lunch allowance at work I find that no matter how many people swarm round, no matter how busy it gets Dylan's damn eyes always draw me in. Finding him is so easy, like a beacon leading me back.

After trailing though mud and water we stand to watch Joel and The Dualtones play. They're good but drowned out by the loud crash of drums and screeching guitar from the big top tent that's overflowing. It's a shame but I'm sure he won't be loosing any sleep over it.

Time slowly merges into night, and we meet back up with Ruby who is knocking back another can of cider, hair all wet and flat, mascara running. She doesn't seem to care through. Bopping along to the music, waiting for Joel to finish up some interviews back stage so they can continue to revel in the last moments of the festival, like a whirlwind before it's back to reality.

We decide to go our separate ways to watch the last headline acts of the weekend and after Dylan and I catch the last few minutes of a stand up comic before we head back through the woods, another mini rave in full swing, lights lashing to get back to camp. Taking a small detour we stumble into the colour and light installation full of big neon toad stools and hanging stars. It's all rather pretty but disorientating. My eyes assaulted with every step, and close encounter to all the drunk festival goers, clinging on to the last few hours of tolerated debauchery.

With all the commotion I stop watching where I'm walking, and my welly hooks into a rogue tree log. I'm on the ground before I realise. Hands flat out. Mud there to soften the blow and coat me in slime. Dylan's quick on his feet, offers our his hand whilst crouching down. I'm laughing through the embarrassment, still even when he lifts me up into his strong arms.

"You okay? Nothing broken I hope," he smiles, brushing mud off my cheeks and out from my tangled hair.

My legs feel wobbly but I nod.

Then he slowly pulls away the hood of my rain mac. I can feel the weight of him push up against me, his eyes burning into mine. His breath warm.

Then lips - soft just how I'd imagined they might feel. My chest starts to beat fast when his hand slips by to cup under my jaw, pulling me in deeper. My own running through his wet hair.

Uh oh.

A kiss I'd thought might never happen. That I've literally stumbled into unexpectedly.

Dylan making the first move. All the pent up frustration from the dark room spilling over as his tongue finds mine and he caresses it.

This is complicated. This is happening. There's really no going back.

An exceptional set of circumstances, and a kiss that fades the bright lights and the rain and all the mud and aching limbs out.

I'm not sure how long we stay like this but when his lips part he's holding my soil coated hand. This continues all the way back to the campsite. His in mine, warm and firm. We're quiet but his broad smile speaks volumes.

After my earlier tumble, Dylan's keen to keep me upright as we dodge tent pegs and piles of rubbish, cans and bottles crunching under our eager feet. Through it doesn't stop me from catching the zip of our tent in my hair as I pull it down, his hand guiding me in.

Diving into a snug of sleeping bags and a half deflated blow up bed, I feel Dylan beside me. He's tugging at my pac a mac, wildly tossing it into the corner pile of damp socks and muddy shoes. Hair catching static from the tent lining.

I straddle his lap, legs knelt apart to remove his soaking wet hoodie, and to find his mouth again, two hands either side of his cheeks. His lips are ice cold, and they taste of raindrops and beer.

As the loud music and festivities continue to swirl outside, I kiss him with urgent recklessness, still trying and failing to slide a t-shirt up over his big shoulders. Both of us nestled deep within the confines of the tent, lost in our own world, pulling and grabbing at the little clothing we've got left between us.

Though I've underestimated just how difficult and slightly impractical it is to try and remove trousers in such a small space. Arms stretching right out to push the tent fabric up and down, almost turning it on it's side when I yank and pull at Dylan's jeans. I can feel that he's ready, that he wants this too, I just can't see it. And I'd really like to but it's so dark inside, and the small torch that's been abandoned outside our compartment faces out, providing barely any light at all.

My giggles get the better of me, because this whole fumbling around in a tent malarkey is quite funny and also a bit stressful. It's light relief to hear him laugh back, pausing for a moment because we're both such a mess and the tent is just a dumping ground at this point. I'm sure I've dragged my fingers through the muddy underside of a discarded welly. I can feel dirt under my fingernails.

Though I am turned on, and his kisses are hot it's not quite as sexy as I'd imagined it might be. Logistically it's a nightmare to find space, or turn or re-position a knee because the bed's so deflated we both keep rolling dangerously close to the side of the tent.

As I fumble to take off my bra, dress still on, clasp not being very forthcoming, Dylan continues to breath hard into my neck.

"Here, let me do it," he says quietly, fingers tangling behind my back. They're the only part of him that's warm. He is being so very patient and kind, because he can't do it either and I am laughing and laughing, not at him but at the whole sorry situation.

When he quickly covers my mouth, I think I might have over done it with the giggles, that or he's really into this kind of thing. His cupped hand pressed over my lips. Maybe this is a different side to him that I'm about to discover. It's quite thrilling.

As I reach for the back of his head to run my fingers down, his wide eyes alert me to the fact that he's mouthing the words be quiet, because there's now someone outside our tent, pushing on the side. I hear heavy footsteps and some shouting, which grows into panic.

As I strain to listen, straddling a very turned on Dylan still hard against my thigh, I can just about make out the line not there! Over and over till a familiar voice speaks up and I pull my head back, away from his hand.

"It's Ruby," I whisper. "I think something's wrong."

He nods, and we stay motionless, locked together, listening until I know that I can't stay on top of him any longer. Joel's voice louder and more urgent sparks a flight or fight instinct and I'm rolling off Dylan at light speed. Careful not to knee him in the groin as I pull my dress down and wrap his hoodie tight round my chest, bra wonky, hair a mess.

I fall straight out the tent the second I unzip it, straight into a black bin liner with yesterdays used wet wipes and beer bottles. Joel stares down at me, two arms behind Ruby who is sat down, legs spread out, head limp.

"What's wrong?" I repeat till I'm able to stand. Dylan's head poking out, shirtless abs on show for Joel to pause and raise an eyebrow. "What's happened?"

"She's just drunk too much. Feels sick," he replies, whilst simultaneously telling her not to throw up by their tent. "Over there Ruby, not there."

As I squint to make out safe ground, dodging all the mud, I crouch beside her and she's breathing hard, lips wobbling all over the place.

"How did this happen?" I ask though it's obvious, she's been on a steady decline all evening wanting to cram in as much festival as possible, cider too.

"She was fine, I mean we're both drunk but she had another and now she wants to be sick."

"Why did you bring her here, take her to the toilets."

Joel scrunches up his face. "Have you seen the state of the toilets?"

True, they are bordering on being a complete health risk. I realise I'm being stupid.

"Ruby, can you have some water please?" I say softly, trying to prise a bottle between her lips. "Just take a sip."

"Nah."

"Please."

"I'm not even drunk," she slurs back, both Joel and I shaking our heads in disagreement.

"Do you still feel sick?"

A hiccup and clutch of the tummy shows that she in fact does. And she's not hiding it well as she lurches towards the back of her tent, her hands crawling so fast I almost fall on top of her in an effort to catch up and stop her.

Oh no, I hear Joel say as Ruby vomits all over it, in her hands and in her hair which I am trying in vain to pull back with little success.

"I'll go find some paper towels, you want more water?" Dylan's appeared beside me, crumpled denim shirt on, his wild hair stuck up. He sounds calm and measured which helps me to stop and breath. Take stock of how this can all be dealt with.

"That would be really helpful, thank you, so much, honestly," I ramble on, whilst Ruby sits up and wipes her mouth on the hem of her jumper.

Joel wants to stay but I send him off to join Dylan, because she's saying don't let him see me, over and over between retching and coughing up sick on the tent. With them gone, I pull and prop her up by a camping chair that we've carelessly left out. Inside my tent I throw out the contents of a bag I'd neatly packed for the morning to find a small hand towel so I can clean her up.

"I'm sorry Jem Jem," Ruby pouts, waving her hands about. "Don't hate me. You hate me now."

"I don't hate you," I say scrubbing her face and fingers, pouring water over them to get rid of the smell. "I hate sick, but I don't hate you."

"Joel hates me."

"No he doesn't, he's worried that's all."

She's prodding a finger into the wet ground. "He thinks I'm too drunk. Said I need to sleep."

No one should be able to laugh whilst clearing up vomit but some how I find that I can. "You do. Sleep will help and lots of water okay?" I force her to drink what little's left in the bottle.

"Bleughhh what's that?"

"Water."

"But it's warm."

Sighing I pour the rest of the tent. "Sorry it's not up to your liking princess but it's the best we've got right now."

"Has Dylan left?" she asks as I keep one hand on her shoulder, the other plumping up sleeping bags in her tent, making space.

"yes, but only to get you more water."

Ruby hiccups and her fingers curl round mine. "I am sleepy. Head hurts."

"Yeah mine too," I laugh, the smell of beer and cider and god knows what else knocking my senses for six. "Crawl inside and just rest your head."

She does as she's told, on hands and knees till she's tucked up inside a sleeping bag. When Dylan and Joel return I thank them for the tower of paper towels they've stolen from the toilets, and give Ruby another bottle that she cradles between her folded arms.

"She gonna be ok?" he asks as he holds a plastic bag open so I can clear our camp of any signs of sick.

"Hopefully she'll sleep it off. I'm sure she'll be fine."

He nods, and continues to pour water onto the tent, shirt sleeves rolled up. Seemingly not caring that he's so close to treading in it, not flinching away like Joel is, watching from the sidelines.

"Ah dude, I'm so sorry about cock blocking you," I hear him mutter quietly to Dylan who doesn't say a word but pats him on the back.

"Bad timing ey?" Joel continues to sighs, looking towards me. I want to tell him he has no idea. A habit of Ruby's I'm definitely not a fan of, one she's got to nip in the bud before Dylan starts to think I'm playing him. Getting him just where I want, only to have to push him aside to come to her rescue.

"Understatement," I mutter back.

Somewhere between mopping up sick and checking on Ruby it's decided that it's better if I bunk in with her instead of Joel.

"You'll know what to do if she wakes up feeling funny again," he says. "You're better at dealing with it. I got a real weak stomach."

Dylan doesn't seem too mad about having to share with a guy he hardly knows, though he does stop me in the entrance to our tent whilst I blindly search for my pyjama bottoms and phone. "You gonna be okay?"

I shrug, I've not really got a lot of choice. "Yeah."

His hand reaches out, and he tucks it between my collar and neck. Bringing me forwards to feel the sweetness of his lips, the coldness of his nose against mine. I want his tongue to stay and trace mine for a lot longer than it does. Because we're interrupted by Joel waiting outside, sleeping bag rolled up in his arms, tapping the tent.

As Dylan pulls away he kisses my cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. "You're a good friend Jemima. Really."

I'm quick to shrug off such a compliment but he's still caressing my cheek. His eyes say he has no doubt about it. Mine aren't so sure.

He's much too generous.

Back in Ruby's tent, I unfold my sleeping bag, not bothering to zip it all the way up because I'm sure I'll have to be out of it again during the night, Ruby restless beside me. Alternating between snoring and humming. Legs kicking out from her makeshift cocoon.

"Jem," she whispers, her voice groggy and worn out.

"What."

"I'm glad I found you."

"Joel bought you back."

She rolls onto her side, arm stretched up, fingers tracing the condensation patterns on the tent roof above her. "I know but I'm still glad I did. You care."

When she starts to slur out words, I gently roll her back and turn off the torch light. "I do, which is why you need to sleep okay?" I whisper, as her breathing relaxes.

"You won't leave me will you?"

I shuffle about in my sleeping bag. "No. Course not."

"But everyone leaves me."

"Joel's in the other tent with Dylan."

She makes kissy sounds against her limp hand, before her giggles cease. "You promise?"

"I'm right here. Not going anywhere."

Ruby keeps mumbling promise till her lips find comfort.

With restless energy, and aching bones I stare up, willing my eyelids to sag. My ears on high alert because I'm worried that she might stop breathing, or roll over, crush me. It's a waiting game until I feel she's truly settled, fast asleep and not in any further danger, the sickness giving in to exhaustion.

Desperate to sink all the thoughts rushing through my head, I toss and turn, thinking of Dylan. The taste of his mouth still on mine - raindrops and beer. How soft and gentle he is, and how it all happened, lost in the woods, my clumsy nature leading to a kiss that I've been thinking about for weeks.

Why my head hurts.

And how I don't really deserve it much at all.

. . .