I launched myself off the platform. My feet hit the wooden floor with a surprisingly loud thud. And then I ran from the room as fast as my jelly legs would carry me. I wanted to be cocooned in my safe little cubicle again, but a bloody butler holding the biggest silver platter I’d ever seen before was blocking my path to the restroom. I turned around and ran back up the passage, ducked into one of the many lounges and slammed the door behind me.
What the hell had I just done?
I needed to lean against something quickly before I collapsed. My whole body was shaking. Dizzy. Nauseous. Hot. Cold. Sweaty. Woozy and then—
“Val. Are you okay?” It was Matt! “What’s wrong? You don’t look well.” I tried to look away but he reached out and took my face between his hands, tilting it up for him to see.
And that was the moment!
That was it. It was all just too much. Too much to keep bottled up inside for a second longer. I’d been locking it away, trapping it and squashing it down for so many years. And now, it was on the verge of escaping and there was nothing in the world that could stop it.
“NO! No, I am NOT okay . . . okay?” I burst into loud sobs.
“For God’s sake, tell me what’s wrong. You’re worrying me.” Matt looked genuinely concerned. Friend concerned. My heart snapped and then so did I.
“Don’t you see?” I wailed through loud and very messy sobs. “Have you still not got it, Matt?” My sobs grew louder still.
“See what? Got what?” He seemed genuinely confused.Was he really that blind?
Have you ever watched a TV program where they show a time-lapse video of a plant bursting out of a tiny seed? It grows bigger, and bigger, until you wonder how the hell something so big could have come out of something so small. It seems to defy all the laws of nature. That’s what it was like when I finally opened my mouth. The words and feelings that had been locked away for so long were enormous and endless. They burst into the space between us and filled the entire room.
“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU! OKAY? IN LOVE WITH YOU. I’ve been in love with you from the second I saw you, and you kissed me and I haven’t stopped loving you every second of every day since then. And now you’re getting married to Samantha who is perfect and beautiful and I hate her for it! I hate her because you love her and not me. And we’re so perfect for each other. We spend all our free time together, but you still don’t see it. Why can’t you love me? Love me—”
I stopped when I heard it. It sounded like my voice was echoing through the rooms. Bouncing back and forth. Clearly, I was hearing things. I let out a loud, frustrated wail and it came straight back to me.
“What the . . .?” I looked up to see where the sound was coming from. Something was very, very wrong here.
“Hello?” I asked tentatively, and my voice answered right back with the sameHello.
I opened the door and stepped out into the passage again, trying to ascertain where the hell the sound was coming from.
“Ssshhhhh,” I whispered and heard it immediately. It was as if the voice of God was repeating every single word that I was saying . . .
Holy crap!
In one earth-shattering moment, I realized what was going on. I looked down at my dress, and there it was . . .the mic. Still pinned to me.
My breath started coming out in short, sharp, ragged spurts, and I followed the sound of it up the passage and into a room.
The room.
Everyone swung around and glared at me in absolute horror. Their faces were smeared with shock and utter disbelief. I felt the hot flames start at my feet, sweeping up my legs, my torso and finally my face. Suddenly, I was as sober as hell. I tried to open my mouth to speak, “I . . . I . . . I . . . Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
16 Feb.
Dear Diary,
I’m confused. And mildly alarmed. I staged several walk-bys past apartment 18 in the last two days, but no sign of him. Am starting to wonder if he’s one of these moochers that doesn’t have a job? Like from the Dr. Phil show,“My 35-year-old moocher son is living on my couch and now he’s also hearing voices”kind of thing.
I drew the line at knocking on the door, didn’t want him to think I was crazy . . . says the girl who staged multiple walk-bys. I can’t help it, though. Have not been able to stop thinking about that kiss. Something happened during it. I can’t quite explain it. But I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I’m desperate to see him again.
Anyhoo . . . I need to finish an article about the A-Spot. Yes, that is an actual thing. And did you know, only 11% of all woman have found it? (I’m in that 11%, btw.) Got to run, need to help the other 89% navigate their way in the new sexual, alphabet soup.
More later . . .
CHAPTER THREE
My foot hit the perfectly manicured lawn, and my heel immediately dug into the fresh, wet soil. I felt my body falling forward and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from falling on my . . .
