Don’t you normally wait until term starts before you send these out?messages Faye.I don’t need this negative energy right now.
I’ve been sending ‘Selena Says’ since Year 9 when I saw Briar McDonald’s mum storm into school to argue with a Chemistry teacher about her child’s B grade. My hot take then was you shouldn’t get your parents to fight your battles for you, even if they look like they could wield a battle axe.
Kira and Faye enjoyed it so much that I’ve been sending them ever since.
Ollie and I are hanging out again today. I look at myself in the mirror, brushing down my sundress. I’ve made more of an effort than usual, wearing some light make-up, curling my hair. Ollie has seen me in all states over the years, but today there’s only one way I want him to see me: romantically.
Because today, Iwilltell him how I feel.
I meet Ollie out front. Looking at our houses side by side, it is bizarre we are next-door neighbours. Half of our street is a string of semi-detached, suburban homes, of which mine is one. Then it suddenly becomes a string of, well, mansion-esque detached houses. Of which Ollie’s is one.
Ollie has told me before that his house isn’t a mansion, and ‘it’s all relative’, as multiple friends of his from his fancy private school have way bigger homes than him. I guess he’s got a point.
He holds up a picnic basket, the contents no doubt raided from his mum’s well-stocked fridge. I swear I once saw caviar there. I’ve brought a blanket and garden chairs and we head off to the park around the corner.
‘Can’t believe we’re halfway through summer,’ I say, sinking into the garden chair.
‘Final year of sixth form coming up,’ he says, sitting down next to me and taking out the food.
‘Are you looking forward to going back to Benson’s? Surely they’ll have some ritual sacrifice or something to round off your final year,’ I tease. I take a crisp and scoop up some fancy garlic dip.
‘It’s a summer solstice festival at the end of the year, not a ritual sacrifice,’ he says, a bit strained. ‘And it’s a good tradition.’
‘At least you only have to do it once more now,’ I say lightly. Ollie gets a bit defensive about his school. In general, he doesn’t enjoy being teased.
He nods, saying nothing, and we sit in silence for a bit. I continue making my way through the crisps and garlic dip, but in my head I’m doing cartwheels about how to bring up my feelings. Do I say:Hey, I think I like you . . .?
No. I can’t do that.
Maybe:This feels like a date . . . because maybe it is one?
Bad again.
If Ollie notices my internal turmoil, he doesn’t say anything. He just seems to be staring out across the park; but then suddenly he turns to me. . .
‘What are you most looking forward to this year?’ he asks me.
I sigh inwardly, but then my answer comes immediately. ‘Going to Rose Conrad’s tour,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe she’s coming before Christmas! She said she wanted to tour this album as quickly as possible.’
‘Of all the things that can happen in this year, and you’re most looking forward to Rose Conrad’s tour?’ says Ollie disbelievingly.
‘Her music is pure escapism. I’m in the moment, I’m there. And to experience it live – I can’t imagine it.’
Ollie laughs. ‘You’re starting to sound like a Rose Conrad song yourself. Overly nostalgic.’
‘Hey! I know you’re not her biggest fan, but you’re going to help me get tickets, right? There’s some complicated online queuing system, and I need all the help I can get.’
‘Absolutely,’ says Ollie. ‘Anything for you, Selena Pia.’ He touches my arm, and I look at him, and our eyes meet. I feel caught in them, like they’re tugging me forwards.
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ says Ollie.
This is it.I don’t need to confess my love to Ollie, because he’s about to do it to me! The greatest turn of events that could happen.
‘I’m moving next week,’ he says.
‘What?’ I feel winded. ‘As in, moving house?’
He nods.
