Chrysalis

Chrysalis By Emily Gould Published by Less Than Three Press All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews. Edited by Caitlyn Penny Cover designed by Aisha Akeju This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental. First Edition November 2011 Copyright © 2011 by Emily Gould Printed in the United States of America ISBN 978-1-936202-87-4

CHRYSALIS Emily Gould

FIRST I should have thought, just thought, just for a second … but I think my brain is allergic to thinking. Actually, I think my brain hates me. "Why the fuck do you want to know?" He's towering over me. I want to run, but all my legs want to do is wobble and give out. I think this is probably the most terrified I've ever felt, with Josh looming over me, swearing, surrounded by his friends. My friends are not here; they don't come to places like this. Only rugby players do, apparently—and they come here to tower. "No, I-I didn't, I didn't mean … " I try to work out what to say, how to get out of this one … Why didn't my brain figure out ten minutes ago that going up to this guy and saying "Are you gay?" would be a bad idea? How the hell does someone get so tall? "Will you go out with me?" I practically scream, because my allergic non-thinking brain has finally decided to give up the ghost. I close my eyes, wondering if anyone will complain if he hits me. I can hear his friends laughing. "What?" The first time I said it was loud, but this second time I'm amazed he can hear me. I can barely hear myself, although that might be because my ears are buzzing. "Will you go out with me … ?" Josh blinks at me. I blink back. His mates stop laughing and look at him, kind of puzzled. I stare at him desperately, hoping like hell the answer is 'no' . He looks around, as if it's a joke, as if he's going to make a joke. I give a crazy, horrible cheesy grin. He reaches forward and pats the side of my cheek gently. "Well, kid, you've pulled. Outside the front gates. Tomorrow, at seven." Josh laughs. They all laugh. The laughter follows me as I stumble out the door. *~*~* "Well?" Emmy demands. She's been doing that since I got back. "Well?" I make her wait, though—if I had to go through being traumatised, she can stand waiting. I get a drink, and then spread my essay work across the desk and look at it for a bit. "Well?"

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"No." "No what? Did you ask him out for me?" "He's gay." "Oh." "He asked me out." "What?" She stares as me, trying to see if I'm joking, but I don't joke all that much. "He asked you out?" It stings a bit, the way she says it, as if no one would ever ask me out. It hasn't happened since I started university, but still. "Yeah. Well … I sort of asked him out. I asked him if he was gay and it pissed him off, and I couldn't think of anything else to say." "Oh man, Luke." She shakes her head at my inability to interact. "Oh man." I scowl at her. "It's your fault! The only instructions you gave were 'find out if he's gay, and if not, ask him out for me'. What was I meant to do? And the next time you want to find out if a guy is available, you can ask him yourself; I am not going through that again." "Well, at least you have a date, yeah?" I think the acquisition of dates is all that Emmy thinks is important. "He's six feet tall! I don't like tall guys." I poke my work a bit with the pencil. "I like cute guys. Sweet little emo guys with eyeliner and shit, not guys that look like the missing fucking link. Safe guys." "He's hot!" Emmy smirks at me, because she finds it funny. I'm starting to wonder why I agreed to do the favour for her in the first place. In fact, I'm starting to wonder why I'm friends with her at all. "All the girls will be jealous." "What if he wants to take it further than just a date?" Okay, maybe I am whingeing now, but he scares me. He really does. "What the hell are we going to talk about?" Emmy rolls her eyes. "Just let him talk. If it gets bad, phone me and I'll come rescue you, okay?" She pats my hair, messing it all up, and then makes a face. "Oh, and Charles says he'll return your notes tomorrow after lectures." "I'm going over to his tomorrow evening anyway … " "Don't you have a date now?" I scowl and flip her off. *~*~* Charles takes things more seriously. "Look, why don't you just tell him you made a mistake?" 5 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

"Six feet tall." "He's not going to hurt you, especially not in the middle of a restaurant. Tell him you came to ask if some girl wanted to go out with him, and then made a mistake." "He'll laugh at me," I mumble. "Probably," he says, sounding bored, and I remember that I don't really like Charles so much because he makes me feel like a dick. "I brought back your notes. And Chelsea brought back your hairstraighteners." I take the bag. "How … are … things?" I ask, a little cautiously. Because it's always a hard question to ask. "Okay … " He sighs a little. "Not long left now. She's pretty much just staying in the house." He frowns and I notice that he's starting to get wrinkles on his forehead. "Is Chels … well?" "Oh yeah, size of the side of a house, but still well. It shouldn't be a problem, really; her mum had no problems. I mean, she came out fine herself, so I'm sure the kid will manage. People have babies all the time; it's perfectly normal." I let him talk for a bit longer, because Charles is going through a hell of a lot of problems right now and mine seem a lot smaller in comparison. Chelsea is his half-sister, although the half doesn't make much of a difference; they both look pretty similar, all fine blond hair and wide blue eyes. When I first met Charles, I had a bit of a crush on him, although that faded pretty quickly because Charles isn't really interested—in guys, girls … or anything really. "Well, I hope it goes okay, man," I say when he's finished. "Yes. And good luck with your date." He gives a grin, the first one I've seen for a while. "Don't forget the mace!" *~*~* I'm hoping Josh won't turn up, I really am. But he does, and in a fucking rugby shirt with the collar turned up at the back. In contrast, I've made myself look as emo as possible: dark makeup, striped shirt, big boots, and re-styled hair to cover about half of my face, even though I usually just brush it over my left eye and leave it at that—all in an effort to look as little as possible like the kind of person I think he'd want to date. Why the hell did he say 'yes'? Why the hell does some rugby-jock want to go out with a guy like me? Josh looks me over and gives a quick grin, and I feel like kicking him. He wraps an arm around my waist and I almost throw up out of fear. "Shall we go?" I nod, mutely. "Does dinner sound okay?" I give another little nod. I can feel his hand pressing against the small of my back and I'm terrified he'll move it. Mostly terrified he'll move it down. What do I do if he grabs my ass?

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Thankfully, he doesn't; just takes me to a place and sits down. I sit down, too, and stare at the menu. Saver deals and inexpensive food choices look back at me. As well as everything else, he's a cheap date. The waitress comes and I jab my finger at a random vegetarian thing, wondering if it's worth pretending to be vegan and kick up a fuss. I bet he'd really hate a vegan. I don't kick up a fuss, though, and when I look up, I see he's looking back at me and it almost scares me shitless. "So … " he begins, and then stops. There's silence for a bit. I really wish they'd bring the food, so we could eat and get out. I start to feel a little sorry for Josh, stuck with a lousy date who doesn't even want to be with him. "It was a mistake," I blurt out, because my brain failed me again and I can't think of anything to say. Josh frowns. "You want to change your order?" "No … " "What was a mistake?" I look down and mumble something random, staring at the tablecloth. I wish I'd put a slightly less crazy shirt on. "Why did you want to go out with me?" Josh raises an eyebrow, and then sighs deeply, and I realise with panic that he's about to launch into a heartfelt talk. I don't want a heartfelt talk, especially not from a six foot tall rugby player with a popped collar . "Well … I don't know. For one thing, well … you're the first guy who's ever had the guts to ask me out. I was curious." The guts? What guts? I have no guts! "And … you're kind of cute." He gives me a sweet little smile. I'm starting to panic. "In a sort of crazy emo way. You looked so helpless when you asked; I felt saying 'no' might kill you or something. You seem different to all the guys I usually hang out with, the guys I usually go out with … " I can't think of anything to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut. It's what Charles would do; he always does sensible things. I sometimes wish I were more like him. There's silence for a bit and Josh is sort of smiling at me in a vaguely dopey way. Then he asks me the question: "Why did you ask me out?" I take a deep breath and open my mouth to channel the Sensibleness of Charles, but for some reason, I start channelling Emmy instead. "Uh … you're hot. And a rugby player." I stutter out. He stops smiling a little at that which makes me feel relieved. And then at long last, the food shows up, and we can eat and get out. *~*~* The next day, I go 'round to Charles and Chelsea's place (except it's really Charles's place, since Chelsea just moved in when the whole baby thing happened). Thibby, one of Charles' oldest friends, is there as 7 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

well. He's been hanging around more since Chelsea's pregnancy to give Charles a bit of support, and he's promised (or threatened) to beat up the father if he ever turns up. I've never understood why Thibby and Charles are friends, as they're so completely different. Thibby gives me a nod as I stumble through the door, then turns back to his computer. He's wearing a khaki T-shirt and his hair is currently bright orange. I ignore him because I want to focus on my problems. "Chels!" I yell. She comes out of the bedroom to meet me, sort of wobbling a little, and we hug carefully, because she's so large. "Ooh, Lukie! I heard you'd grabbed a hunk!" "I'm scared of him," I admit, although right now I mostly feel like a cock for messing up his date so badly. "Yeah, Charles said." She hugs me sympathetically and I remember why I love her so much. "Must have been crap. My advice is back away—back away fast—then run." "Because you've never been on inadvisable dates," Charles snarks, but she just rolls her eyes and ignores him. I can't ignore him, though; even if I don't have a crush on him anymore, he's still a bit intimidating, and I always feel guilty when he calls me out on shit or reminds me that I'm speaking crap. He does that a lot. I do it a lot, too. "Are you dating now?" Thibby peers over the computer and gives me a critical, slightly pissed off look. "How did that happen? You never get dates, you're too chronically shy." "What do you think of 'Kristabelle'?" Chelsea says to change the subject, waddling over to the sofa. I help her sit. "Spelt with a K." I make a mumbled noise, and Charles yells "No!" from the kitchen. Chelsea tries to throw a cushion at him, but it bounces off the half-closed door. She pouts. "He thinks all my names are crap." "I'm not having my niece named Cristobel, however you spell it. What's wrong with a proper girls' name?" "Cristobel is a proper girls' name," Thibby points out from the computer, because he knows it will piss Charles off. I notice he's not making any suggestions, though, and I get the feeling this is a conversation they've had a good few times before. "He wants to call her Jane," Chelsea says, turning to me with a look of horror. "Or Ann. Ann!" "You can spell it with an E if you like," Charles shouts back, shutting the kitchen door to stop the smoke.

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"She's a special baby and she's having a special name." Chelsea starts to tear up a bit and I make soothing noises. "Something after a jewel, maybe." "Ruby?" I suggest, trying to strike a happy medium between names Chelsea likes and names that actually exist. The overlap seems to be depressingly small. "I thought Sapphire, but with two Fs." "To match her school grades," Charles calls from the kitchen, accompanied by a clang of kitchenware. "Amber?" I try, raising my voice above the noise. "Or maybe Jewel. Jewel is technically a name. Or … um … Topaz?" "Topaz!" Chelsea looks at me in horror. This has evidently gone beyond the pale. "I can't call my child 'Topaz'!" "What's wrong with Mary … ?" Charles tries hopelessly from the kitchen. *~*~* We sit down for dinner, Chelsea, Thibby and me on the sofa, while Charles eats at the table. He's weird in that way, like how he insists his name is Charles rather than anything else. He doesn't do nicknames, whereas Thibby will kill anyone who dares to call him Thibault. Halfway through dinner, my phone goes off. I pull it out and make the "sorry, sorry" hand gesture at Chelsea. It's a number that I don't recognise, but I know the voice as soon as I hear it, even over the phone. "Luke?" "Yo," I manage to croak out, shivering slightly, because all I can think is how the hell did you get my number, you crazy, perverted, rugby shirt-wearing freak? "Um … about our date yesterday … " I can't say anything, so I make a noise in the phone and he thankfully continues. "You … well … you seemed a little tense during it. Like something was up. I just wanted to see if you were okay?" "I'm good," I manage. Chelsea is looking a little confused and Charles is smirking as if he knows exactly what's going on. Or maybe he just likes seeing me all nerved up. "Yeah … well … seeing as you weren't, like, all there that day … I mean, um. Did you want to try again?" His words are fracturing. He sounds really nervous for some reason, but not half as nervous as I'm feeling. "Again?" I manage to squeak, as though someone grabbed my balls halfway through the word. "Well … I mean. If you want. It's just the ice-skating rink has a deal on this Thursday and I wondered if you'd like to come along." He really is a cheap date.

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"Umm … " Once again, I start channelling Emmy: "Um, can I get back to you … ?" "Yeah, sure." He sounds a little resigned and I feel like the world's shittiest date again. "It's just … I'm with my friend right now and she's pregnant." For some reason, it seems like an excuse rather than an explanation. I don't know why. I don't know why I just didn't stop talking. "Oh, right!" Josh sounds relieved, but also slightly nervous for some reason. "I see." Although what the hell he thinks I've explained, I have no idea. "Yeah, that's fine. Okay, hear from you later!" I put the phone down with shaking hands. "That was Josh. He wants another date!" "A second date?" Thibby shakes his head, glancing up at Charles. "Getting serious, huh? Looks like someone fancies you. " Chelsea gives a panicked look, shaking her head violently. "Give him ten minutes, then text back: 'no way, it's over'. Trust me. Best way. Then switch the phone off for the next few days. He'll get the idea." Charles says, "You really are a bastard." *~*~* I head home about an hour later, creeping in softly because Emmy has some girl-friends over and I don't want to be dragged in to watch Hugh Grant jump into a lake or whatever. I go to my room and sit crosslegged with the lights out, staring at my phone. I think better with the lights out. It also keeps Emmy from knowing I'm back, yet. I try to think, so I can get everything I want to say in my head sorted out before I phone. Trouble is, I don't really know what to say. I can't ice-skate. I don't know how. I did a bit of roller-skating when I was younger, but only with knee pads and when the basketball court was deserted. The idea of ice-skating kind of worries me—and of course, the idea of Josh being there worries me, too; although it might be quite nice to have a large surface area to land on. Or cling to, if I were the clingy type. On the other hand? It's been a long time since I had a proper date. The one last night barely counts, seeing as I was spending the whole time trying to get out of it. I had a boyfriend before, at school, but we sort of drifted apart when we hit uni. I miss him a little, although mostly I just miss being able to kiss and cuddle with someone, more than actually missing, you know, him. But Josh? He's so much bigger than me, so much more built, and what the hell would we have to talk about? I catch a fleeting whisper from my brain: You wouldn't have to talk … not if you spend the time with your mouth keeping his shut. Or maybe that's not my brain. I'm not sure what part of me it is. I know I don't want to go out with him, or at least I think I don't, but then why am I making this phone call? It seems very long since I've had a boyfriend. 10 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. I find Josh's number and save it first, before calling. He must have saved mine, too, because as soon as he picks it up, he asks, "Luke?" "Um, yeah … " Silence for a bit while I get my nerve back, and then I continue, "I, uh, I can make Thursday." "Do you want to come skating, then?" He sounds excited and I can almost imagine his smile down the other end of the phone. "Sure." My heart is hammering wildly; I swear he can hear it over the phone. "I'm not very good at skating, though." I'm not good at any sports. We have practically nothing in common. Josh laughs and I scowl at the phone, wishing I could reach down and kick him for it. Why does he get to be so happy when I'm so nervous? "Hey, that's fine. You don't need to worry, there's gonna be plenty of the guys there, anyway. We can always go for a meal afterward or something?" "Sure," I reply, because it was either that or screaming. Plenty of the guys? What the hell? I don't know any of his friends and I don't want to fall over in a skating rink with them watching. I also feel slightly cheated. What guy goes on a date with a load of his friends? Maybe this isn't a date, after all. My heart starts beating even crazier and I unconsciously smooth the hair down over the left side of my face. I feel really nervous for some reason. "Great. See you there." Josh hangs up and I stare at my mobile in the dark, wondering why I'm putting myself through all of this. Wondering why a small part of me feels pleased that even after the first train wreck, Josh still wanted to ask me on a second date.

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SECOND I don't dress quite so insanely this time, mainly going for warmth. I'm still shivering when I reach the rink, although that's mostly from fear and nervous excitement. I almost pass out when I see Josh coming, though, because he has two of his mates with him, and while one of them just looks bored, the other is smirking as if he's just about to do me in or something. "Hey." Josh nods at me, looking all confident and cocky, and I mumble something back and hope I'm not blushing or some shit. The guy next to Josh laughs, and for a brief moment, Josh looks embarrassed. I wonder whether he's regretting bringing his friends; maybe they're starting to make him feel as awkward as they make me. "Well … ready?" I nod. My voice has gone again, but I know it will return just in time for me to shoot my mouth off about something stupid. I pick up the skates with a sense of trepidation. The blades look very … bladelike. The word 'blade' gets stuck in my head a little, especially with the way Josh's friend is looking at me. I pull on the skates and clomp toward the entrance to the rink, keeping behind them all. I'm thinking about not following them, or pretending to sprain my ankle or something, when Josh turns back to look at me. I realise I'm probably screwing up his date again, so I hobble onto the ice and promptly fall over. I can hear laughter and the sound of someone behind me getting all irate about me blocking up the entrance. Josh hauls me upright and out the way, and bloody hell is he strong. He almost wrenches my arm off helping me up, and it doesn't help that my feet are all going in different directions and making me seriously worried I'm going to accidently rip myself in half or something. "Can you skate at all?" Josh helps me to the railing and I cling onto it like a lifeline. "No. I said I couldn't." "You said you weren't very good; I thought you could stand up at least." He sounds a bit pissed off, as though I'm deliberately bad at skating. I reach my hand up to pat my hair down over my left eye, worried it might have flipped up when I fell, but thank God and hair gel, it's still in place. My ass is really hurting, now that I've gotten over the shock of falling, and his words aren't helping. I know I should be glad that he's getting pissed at me, so that this will all be over soon and he'll bugger off, but instead I just feel totally pathetic. "Sorry," I whisper. Grabbing hold of the rail, I start to stumble away from him, heading for the exit. All I want to do is just run away, and then curl up and die somewhere, with no friends, no chance of love, some crappy music in the background, etc. etc. "Don't worry about it." Josh gives me a quick smile. "Here, I'll show you." He grabs my arm again and it's a slightly disconcerting feeling, because he actually is about fifty times stronger than me. If he tried, he could probably pull me anywhere he wanted.

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Also, he's skating me further away from the railing, and the chance of me getting back on my own unharmed is somewhere on the far side of negative. So I'm kind of stuck with him now. He's skating backward, backward, and occasionally giving me instructions about how to go forward while I sort of stumble around, trying to stop my legs from heading out boldly in opposite directions and further destroy my mother's already fairly ravaged chances of grandchildren. We keep this up for about half an hour, with Josh occasionally laughing and joking, while I just grin back faintly manically and try to concentrate the small amount of steering influence I have on keeping us away from his crap friend, who keeps zooming up and trying to knock me off course. I have no idea if he's doing it on purpose, but I've already decided to blame him for the whole fiasco that is me trying to skate, so I just glare at him every time he comes near, which makes him laugh. Eventually, we hobble out and give the skates back. I don't do much exercise, I know, so I was expecting it to be a little hard, but I wasn't expecting my muscles to be actually on fire. My legs are just aching— I'm pretty sure they were tensed up the whole time. "Do you want to get something to eat?" Josh asks, putting a hand on my shoulder and making me jump. I nod, feeling relieved when his friends troop off, leaving us alone. He looks down at me, smiling a little. "Did you enjoy that?" Another nod and I manage a positive noise. "We should try again some time. You'll get better." "Yeah … " I knew it. Second date and I feel like he's already trying to turn me into someone like him, someone with whom he can do sporty things. "You don't sound so sure." He looks a little concerned and slightly baffled, as well, as if he's not certain why anyone would be unhappy after spending thirty minutes with their legs skidding around all over the place, hanging onto him for dear life. "You know, we don't have to if you don't want to." "I didn't know your friends would be there," I mumble, because as I said, I've already decided to blame his friend for it. Also, I'm not quite up to telling him the very idea of skating again makes my stomach twist in knots, since he's so bloody good at it. "Oh." He gives this big, wide grin that makes my stomach tie into even more knots. "Oh, right!" I swear I want to punch him right then. He's wearing this massive, goofy grin and keeps glancing at me, which makes me feel even more stupid. We stop outside a pub and he kind of leads me in. I'm not really used to pubs, but I'm so hungry that I'm not about to argue. I get a burger, so he won't start thinking I'm vegetarian. Before, I would have done anything to get him to dislike me, but now it just seems petty and unnecessary. There's silence for a bit as we just kind of sit there, trying to think of something to say. "How's your friend?" Josh asks at last. "What?"

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"Your friend. You said she was pregnant." He sounds a little suspicious at that, as though he's worried I would make up a non-existent pregnant friend. He's also got the nervousness back in his voice, so I guess he's one of those guys that isn't good with talking about pregnancy and girly-things. "Oh yeah, Chels; she's good. It's gonna come soon now." I don't know why I'm telling him all this. "It's a girl. She's trying to think of a name." "Cool." "I know her brother—her half-brother—and that's how I know her," I blabber on, as if my mouth is trying to make up for my silence during skating—also because he keeps looking at me with this weird smile that freaks me out, so I'm trying to ignore it. I get the feeling that in his eyes, this date has gone well, whereas I can only see it as a fiasco from start to finish. "She moved in with him when she found out about the baby. She wants to name if after a stone. Like a gemstone." My brain finally realises I should probably shut the hell up, and I stop. "Nice." Josh actually looks vaguely interested. There's another awkward silence. I try to think of things to talk about (weather? Boring. University? Pointless. Politics? Yeah right), but fail. "So, how's work?" Josh says eventually. He's gone for 'uni' option, presumably under the assumption that talking about nothing is better than actually saying nothing. I give a shrug. "What, what course are you doing?" "HPS," I mumble, and then, just in case he has no clue what that is, "History and Philosophy of Science." "Nice." He says that a lot and he always nods three times when he says it. Usually, something like that would drive me batty, but now it's like a ten-point mark or a crystal from the maze. It's a sign that means, 'yes, we have survived another small block of conversation'. "I'm doing chemistry." "Ah." He's a science student. Figures. There's another pause and I'm starting to really hope the food makes it before Josh gets on to A-levels. It reminds me of the first week of class, when I was seriously starting to consider just holding up a sign with my name, school, A-levels, and 'no, I did not have a gap year' written on it. Josh looks like he's about to speak, but thankfully, the food arrives. I start eating quickly again, hoping I can get this over with before my insides try to strangle me through sheer embarrassment. Josh is going slowly, however, as though he wants to draw it out, and keeps looking up at me. I don't see it coming. I honestly don't. It just comes out of nowhere. I guess he's been looking at me a lot or something, or maybe he's just curious, but it's the last thing I'm expecting to answer right then. "Hey … do you always style your hair like that?" It feels as if someone's just tipped about twenty ice cubes down the back of my shirt. My face is flushed and my already fairly jumpy heart rate is going crazy. I can practically hear the little alarm bells going off in the back of my mind, along with a big, red, flashing buzzer. 14 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

"Y-yeah … " I manage, taking a desperate bite of burger so I don't have to talk. "Is it a fashion thing?" Red lights flashing even more wildly, buzzer getting more high-pitched, whole armies of little men running around panicking in my brain. "It's just how I do my hair." That's a hard sentence to say around a mouthful of mince and onions. It's even harder to say when I'm terrified my brain is going to short-circuit at any moment. "It's just … it hides your eyes." Josh moves closer (why the hell are bar tables so small?), his hand coming too close to my face and I almost hyperventilate. "You have beautiful eyes." His hand touches my hair, trying to move it out the way … I jump back about a foot and actually slap his hand away. "Fuck off! It's just my hair, okay?" I swear, half the bar turns around to look at us. I take a few deep breaths and Josh looks utterly shocked that his date is suddenly acting as if he's flipped. I take a few more breaths and sit down again, my chair still scooted away from him. The waitress is looking over suspiciously, as though she's checking that I'm not getting ravished or something. I swear, if I were a girl, I think she would have physically thrown Josh out at this point. I force a reassuring smile onto my face. "Sorry … " "It's okay … " Josh looks seriously spooked. "Christ, are you … not good with touching?" It's a perfect excuse: it'll get him away and it'll probably keep him away, since he looks ready to run a mile as it is. But somehow, I don't just want to fall for that easy way out. I don't want to completely lose this date, even though I still can't see how we have anything in common. Reaching across the table, I grab his hand and squeeze it gently, even though my arm is shaking a little. "It's just … I don't like people touching my hair. Sorry. I wasn't expecting it." "O-okay … " Josh gives a kind of shaky laugh, but nods again "Okay … I won't then." We finish the meal pretty much in silence, although we kind of mention the weather briefly. The date is basically a mess now, but I grab Josh's arm as he leaves in a vague attempt at salvaging it. "Could you walk me home? It's kind of late … " "Sure." Josh gives his goofy grin again, but after what just happened, I think I've blown out all my responses to unnerving things and I just smile back. We stop on the steps of my apartment. The nervousness returned with the walk back and I hover a little awkwardly. "I, uh, well, I can't invite you in … my flatmate … " I stutter, feeling a little relieved and just a little bit disappointed when a gust of crazy, girly laughter comes out the top window to confirm this. "Yeah … we don't want to get mobbed." Josh laughs and moves closer. I guess I never thought about it before, about how many times he's done this. I've never really had many romantic moments apart from the one awkward and uncertain time in sixth form, but Josh? He knows what he's doing here.

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Josh's hand presses lightly against the back of my neck (he's careful to keep below the hairline; not that it matters really) before I realise what's going on. Nothing much to do except lean forward and open my mouth a little. He's really good at kissing and I can't help but feel a little envious, except what I'm mostly feeling is 'oh god yes I've missed this, about damn time'. We break apart eventually and Josh looks at me, eyes bright. "Thank you. And I'm sorry my friends were so crap, I just thought you might feel more comfortable with a couple more people around." His thumb runs gently round the back of my neck. "I won't touch your hair again." "Yeah … I, um, I shouldn't have freaked about it." I manage, because it seems the easiest thing to respond to. I wonder if I'll ever feel able to explain the truth to him. "Well … see you 'round, then." "Yeah." I smile at him, and then stumble back up the steps, getting through the door and sinking down on the other side, trembling a little. It's not through nerves or through fear; I just feel excited and somehow happy. It's not until I'm in bed and halfway through a happy night-time fantasy that I realise we didn't make any other plans to meet up again. *~*~* I get a phone call at eight in the morning, because Josh is obviously a bit slower on the uptake than I am and chemists get up early. I haul myself out of bed, stumble downstairs and over to the coat rack, drag my phone out my pocket and switch it on groggily. "What!" "Luke?" "Oh … Josh … yeah?" "Do you want to go out this weekend sometime?" "You mean tomorrow?" I try to switch my brain on, but it's too early in the morning. This seems to be happening very fast. "Can't do tomorrow, I've got rugby practise." Oh yeah, the whole rugby thing I'd almost forgotten about. "How about Sunday evening?" "O-okay … " "Great! I can pick you up at your place … I know where that is now." "Sure … Um, Josh?" I lean against the wall, pulling my dressing gown 'round a little more as Emmy walks in. "Could we go to a proper restaurant this time? Not a special offer place or a pizza place or a pub." I'm getting a bit fed-up with the special offers; I want to spend some time somewhere nice with him and maybe try to have a date that doesn't go wrong for once. "If you like." It sounds like he's laughing—it sounds like there's people around him laughing.

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"Yeah, that would be nice." "Okay, see you then!" Josh hangs up and I glare at Emmy whose giggling at me. "What?" "Did you mean to sound like that? Because I swear all I heard you saying was 'ooh … it's my third date, Josh … and if you put on a good enough show, I'll put out for you'." I gape at her for a bit, and then stumble up to bed before my brain alarm-system goes off and stops me sleeping.

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THIRD I run over to Charles as soon as I'm free, pretty much falling inside the door. "Help!" "You alright?" Chelsea calls from the sofa as I stagger in. Charles gives me his 'a being has walked into my flat and is uninteresting' look, and then goes back to the newspaper. He's reading the newspaper. I can't help but feel thankful that Thibby is nowhere to be seen. I don't really feel like explaining myself to a pissy computer scientist with bright orange hair. "Third date!" I yell, as if that explains it all, which of course to Chelsea, it does. "And Emmy says I sound like I'm flirting! I don't want to put out, he'll squash me." Okay, I'm kind of panicking. I've had all day to work up the panic and I'm not going to waste it— especially when Chelsea enjoys the show so much. Also, it irritates Charles. "Luke, do you have no one else to talk to this about?" Charles, naturally. "So, first off, do you want to go all the way?" And thankfully, Chelsea is on my side. "No!" "Just tell him 'no'," Charles says, a little irritably. "He's not some kind of monster, surely." Chelsea shoots him an irate look and he shuts up, because it's sort of a touchy subject. "Don't bother doing the whole 'defining boundaries beforehand' thing, because it won't mean shit when you're both drunk and happy. If you really don't want it, just make sure you head back to your place in a taxi. Without him." I nod desperately, scowling as Charles shakes his head. "What?" "Well, as far as I understand it, that means you'll be stringing him along the entire meal." "What would you know about it?" Chelsea snaps angrily. Charles folds the newspaper up. "So far, you've come up to him in a bar and screamed at him to go out with you, acted like an idiot whenever you do go out, and then keep accepting his offers. No wonder the poor guy is confused about what you want. Actually, I don't know what you want either and I'm not even sure you do." I scowl at him some more, because it's true: I don't know what I want. Charles being maddeningly right about it doesn't help matters. "I might go shopping. I've freaked him out enough already and I don't want to wear anything too emo."

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"Get a waistcoat. You'll look real nice," Chelsea says enthusiastically, always happy to have someone to dress up. "If you're going somewhere posh, he'll appreciate it." I nod. Charles picks up the paper again. "Luke, do you really want advice or do you just come here to talk about stuff?" "I do want advice." And it's true: I want to know what to do, because at the moment, I don't have a clue. Part of me wants to run a mile away from anyone who wants to get close to me, and part of me really wants to have a date with Josh that doesn't go wrong. "Well, if that's what you really want, I suggest going to people who aren't asexual or pregnant." "Oh, for fuck's sake," Chelsea sighs, throwing her arms into the air. "You're young, you're at university. Have fun and use a condom; it's not rocket science." Charles doesn't say anything. I think he knows that any answers to that will just leave Chelsea upset, and upsetting her is the last thing he wants to do. *~*~* Thibby comes 'round to help me get ready, with strict instructions from Chelsea about what I'm allowed to wear. He brings over his head-dyeing stuff and spends most of the time converting his hair from orange through blond to electric blue, while I panic about how much makeup to use and get pissed off at him for hogging the mirror. "Should I wear eyeliner? What if he looks down on guys with eyeliner? " "Do whatever you want." Thibby turns the blue colouring into some kind of foam and slides it over his newly-blond hair. I suddenly wish I was a bit more like him—more confident and less constantly worried about what other people think. That's probably why I started hanging around with him in first year; there was something slightly mesmerising about that kind of self-assured confidence. Back then, his hair was brown. "He said he liked my eyes," I continue, wondering why it suddenly matters so much. Why I'm so desperate to make a good impression. Slowly, I lift up the hair covering the left side of my face. "What the hell is he going to think about this?" Thibby pauses with a towel half over his head and we both look at my reflection. Just above my left eye is a knotted scar that runs down from the hairline to mark the top of the eyelid. My mum keeps telling me it's nothing, but I think it's possibly the ugliest thing about my whole body. Whenever I'm out, I feel aware of it, aware that all it takes is my hair flipping up for everyone to see how ugly I am. The reason I picked up the whole emo hairstyle in the first place was to hide the mark; Thibby and Chelsea only found out when I got drunk in first year and Thibby pulled my hair back as I threw up in the toilet. I haven't told anyone else, not even Emmy. Thibby shrugs and wraps the towel around his head. "He'll think you have a scar."

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"He'll think I'm ugly. He won't want to go out with me." "I thought you didn't want to go out with him?" Thibby sits on the side of the bath and rests his feet on the taps. I shrug miserably and let my hair fall down again, grabbing a comb and trying to see how little of the left side of my face I can get away with covering. "I don't know; I really don't. I've been thinking about what Chelsea said. I guess Josh knows what he's doing; I mean, he did with the kiss and, I dunno." I'd never dare tell Thibby, but I'm starting to think that maybe it's best to have my first time with a guy who knows what he's doing … who knows how to do it well. I'm starting to think that maybe I want to do it with Josh, although I'm still so nervous about it that the mere thought sends panicked alarms through my brain again. Thibby snickers. "I still can't believe you asked a guy out by accident. Do you think I should get another tattoo?" I turn away from him, slightly pissed off that he's turned the conversation away from what I want to discuss. "Maybe I should just tell him it was an accident." "Charles thinks you should break up. I think you should just fuck the guy." Thibby always seems certain about everything. He's a bit like Emmy in that way. I begin to wonder why I seem to have surrounded myself with confident friends, even though I'm usually nervous and panicridden. I've been worrying about having nothing in common with Josh, but really, I don't have much in common with Thibby either. "I don't know if it was an accident," I say uncertainly. "Well, I know it was but I'm not sure it still is." "You see." Thibby tugs the towel off his hair to see if it's getting any bluer. "This is why I always do sex before dates. Makes everything a lot simpler." "Why are you changing your hair again?" I say quickly, because I don't want to start talking about sex in case it makes me panic too much. Especially not the casual kind that people like Thibby and Emmy seem to find so easy to get into and out of. "I thought you liked orange?" "This is for Chelsea's baby." He grins, wrapping the towel back around his head. "I promised her I'd do it—blue for a girl or pink for a boy." I stare at the mirror, thinking about Chelsea's baby, the tiny little life that pushed its way into all of our worlds, and turned her and Charles's upside down. It's already made a difference: Chelsea doesn't go out with Emmy and her girl-friends anymore, and Charles has started saving money. "Does it scare you? Chelsea's baby, I mean. " Thibby shrugs. "'Course it does. But it's cool. She'll have it; we'll all look after it. What else can you do?"

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I remember when all Thibby ever wanted to do was party and get laid, when all Chelsea wanted to do was enjoy herself with her friends. When Charles thought a degree was the most important thing in the world. Suddenly, the problem of me and Josh seems very small and insignificant. We're two people and we're getting on fairly well. Even though I still think he's completely the wrong kind of person for me, I do want to go out with him some more, and tonight is our third date. "Do you want a condom, then?" Thibby cuts in, sending all my thoughts from their organised state of maturity into panicked disarray again. "You should take one—he'll be up for it and you're a stupid kid when you're drunk." *~*~* Josh arrives early and he's wearing a suit, as well. I stop before opening the door, and hiss at Emmy, "How do I look?" "Depends; are you trying to say 'ravish me'?" "Emmy!" She sticks her tongue out and leaves. I inwardly curse at the fact that all of my friends seem to have gone through this vital step and find it terribly funny that I haven't. Apart from Charles, of course, but it's never going to be an issue for him. I briefly wonder how it must be to be Charles, never thinking of sex at all. Then I try to get my sanity back and wrench the door open. "Hey, Luke." Josh gives me that goofy smile again when he sees me wearing a waistcoat, and very deliberately looks me up and down. I feel like curling up and dying right there; I don't want his eyes running all over me, as if he fucking owns me! I fist my hands in my jacket pockets, feeling myself flushing a little as one curls around a condom that Thibby managed to shove into my jacket before he left. I really hope Josh can't see it or tell that it's there. We head out into town. Josh has got his arm around my waist again and I'm not flinching away from it this time. It feels alright, good so far, although I'm still all screwed up inside with anticipation for this evening. I'm terrified of what might happen and still, after all that heartfelt soul-searching, not sure what I want to happen. "No offers, no deals, just like I promised." Josh has a smile on now that I recognise and I start to panic a little when I do—because it's Emmy's look, the 'ooh yeah, I am getting it tonight' look. Josh hugs me a little closer and I wonder if he can feel my heart hammering like crazy in my chest. It sounds loud enough for the whole city to hear. We stop outside a restaurant and I gulp a little, because it is quite a posh, expensive-looking place. I glance sideways and see Josh looking at me, still grinning. No doubt about it, he's trying his hardest to get lucky tonight. "This place look good enough?" he asks, kind of smirking a little, and I just nod, mute. The meal passes all too quickly, seeming like a blur of anticipation and uncertainty. We talk about stuff, his family, my family; he's an only child, as it turns out, and almost an only grandchild, so he's had plenty of people 21 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

around to spoil him for most of his life. We kind of talk briefly about university life, but there's not a huge amount to say. I learn that as well as Chemistry and rugby, he also plays the trumpet and piano, does life drawing classes, and writes for a science magazine. He learns that I'm sort of boring, really, although he does actually manage to look interested when I tell him about Charles's and my failed comic project. We mention Chelsea a little, but it's obvious that Josh doesn't know what questions are safe to ask, and he's not very comfortable asking them. And then we're heading back—back to his place. I realise, as the taxi rolls up, that I should say something, that I should walk away or decline his offer of coffee. But I don't; I just get into the car, realising as I do that whatever happens now, I probably just count as an idiot for accepting it. Josh doesn't hold my hand or anything in the taxi, so I'm stupidly nervous as we get out. There's a brief kiss on the step up to the door, and then he's unlocking it, and whispering, "All my housemates are out …" "Ah." My throat is too dry to manage anything else. I'm so nervous, I almost run down back to the taxi again. "Josh … " I manage to croak out. He turns, looking concerned, which I would find touching if I wasn't so scared. "What? Are you okay?" "J-Josh, how far is this gonna go?" I whisper. He frowns, looking even more concerned and slightly pissed as well. "Luke … the hell?" I blink. "I-I mean, I-I don't know if I want to … " He's got the door open now and is standing with it open, looking confused. "What? You don't want to come in?" I stare at the open door, and then sort of stumble through it. He switches the lights on and I fall onto the sofa, trying not to hyperventilate. I'm alone in a flat with a six foot tall rugby player who I've just strung along for three dates. Josh goes into the kitchen for a bit, which gives me time to breathe. I start to recover a little, getting rid of the nervousness and trying to get excited about things. He comes back with two mugs. "You want coffee?" "Yeah, that's why I came here … " Except I say it in the wrong voice, because he starts looking slightly miserable. He sits down next to me, not touching me or anything, just looking a bit sad, and I start to feel crap. I've just messed up his third and most expensive date, and I really want another of those awesome kisses. I take a deep breath, because this is it now. I have to either do something or end it. Either admit this was all a mistake or admit that it wasn't.

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"Josh … " He looks up at me and gives a sad-sounding sigh, and then interrupts me, just when I'd decided what to say. "Look, Luke, I don't know what I've done that's messed this up, but I'm sorry, okay?" I just stare at him, pissed off that he's interrupted me. "I really enjoyed this evening. It was awesome going out with you, you were real sweet and everything, and now suddenly you're flinching away every time I look at you and you pretty much sound like you want to end this." "Do you?" I whisper. Josh gives a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair, although there isn't that much hair to run it through. "No! Hell no! I've really enjoyed going out with you. Ever since I first met you, you've been real sweet and I just, God, I just love going out with someone who doesn't spend the whole time acting stupid or talking about sports. I thought you were enjoying it, too, even though my mates think I'm mad. I thought tonight we were even going to … " He stops and just sighs, although I know where that sentence was going. I suddenly feel a rush of warmth. Because despite the fact that he's a smirking, six foot tall, rugby shirtwearing, totally-not-my-type guy, he actually said he wanted to go out with me. He wanted it! Wanted me! That's a kind of buzzing feeling. "I did enjoy it, too," I say, except now I'm really frustrated with myself, because that doesn't sound right. It sounds like I'm about to break up with him and I can see him getting more miserable with every word. "Josh, I'm sorry. I really fancy you." It's not what I wanted to say, barely even close. But it seems the quickest way. Except it doesn't cheer him up; it just makes him look slightly angrier. "Yeah, you said." Josh gives a bitter sigh. "Is it because I'm another hot rugby player you can get to screw you? Is that why you've been stringing this out so long?" He scowls. Suddenly, I'm angry. Not scared or frightened or crazily brain-dead, but actually, ragingly angry. Angry at him for being irritated at me, when he's the one doing all the irritating things. "I've never had sex before, okay? There. I'm some stupid virgin doing a crappy subject who somehow ended up going out with an awesome guy." The worst thing is, I'm starting to tear up a little bit. I bet my face is going all red and it's hard to be taken seriously when crying. "I-I'm just terrified about sleeping with you … I-It might hurt, and you know what you're doing and I don't, and you won't want me and why do you have to be so bloody perfect at everything?" I'm properly losing it now and he's just staring at me. And then the bastard starts to smile a little. He's smiling. His non-putting-out date is sitting on the sofa yelling and almost crying, and he's smiling! Josh reaches out and cups my cheek, and I make this weird gulping noise and shut up, although I'm still feeling pretty angry and hoping for an apology or an explanation at least, but instead, he just makes some soothing noises, and then reaches forward and swipes his thumb underneath my visible eye, pushing the tears away. "It's fine, Luke." No, it's not fine, I've been on three dates, and between us, we've messed up all of them, but I don't know how to say that, so I just keep staring at him. He sighs and smiles again, but it's a sad smile. 23 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

"Christ, I didn't know you were a virgin. God, Luke, I thought you were one of those guys who just wanted to screw around. I was just hoping that maybe if we kept going out you might want more. Want … me, even." "Well, yeah I'm a virgin," I mumble. Josh looks straight into my eyes. "Do you still want to go out with me?" I nod, not trusting myself to speak, in case I start crying again or saying something stupid. I know what I want now, and I just want this. No complications, no worrying about whether he's my 'type'. Just this. Josh leans forward. "Well then, maybe we should just take this evening slowly." *~*~* We talk a bit more, not about random pointless things, but about us. I tell him his friends are dicks and he agrees; he tells me I need to start saying when I don't want to do stuff rather than waiting 'til it gets to be too much, and then panicking, and I agree. I tell him I'm afraid of being unwanted. He tells me he's afraid of screwing up and losing things he cares about. I tell him how worried and nervous I am about Chelsea's baby, and he holds me close and shivers a little, but I don't ask why. It feels good being close to someone—being close to him. He's being slow, just like he promised, but I feel so comfortable that I let my hand move down. Then his moves down as well, and then just as things are starting to get interesting, I twist around on the sofa and my hair slides back off my head. Josh pauses under my hands. I close my eyes. I can feel his breath gently against my forehead as he bends down to kiss me—to kiss it. Everything's going so well, and I don't want to cry and mess it up again, so I take a deep breath, and whisper, "Sorry, I know … I know it's kinda ugly." "Luke, you are fucking amazing and seriously beautiful." He doesn't sound freaked out or disgusted. "And this is a part of you." The words sound weird coming from a six foot tall rugby player lying on a sofa with his shirt off, but for some reason, I don't care what Josh is anymore. I just care about him. *~*~* The bed's empty when I wake up, just a dip in the mattress where Josh's body was, and the sweet, lingering smell of him and me, and what we ended up doing last night. There's a scrawled note by the side of the bed as well, explaining that he's gone to lectures and we can meet for lunch at The Cafe Project if I want.

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I feel a little bit disappointed as I get myself out of bed and start using up his hot water. I guess Chemistry students have a lot of lectures, but somehow, I'd rather hoped he might skip just one day for me. I was looking forward to waking up and being able to kiss him again, although part of me is relieved that I don't have to decide whether to have another session. Amazing though it was, my body doesn't really quite feel up for another one just yet, but it would be a hard decision. In the shower, I notice that Josh has left a bruise, just on the side of my hip. Twisting around and peeking at it, I decide it might have been the time when I accidently hit the wall. We both got kind of into it; two people in a single bed was interesting and Josh isn't small. Heh, Josh certainly isn't small. I give a big goofy grin and pull my clothes on, leaving the waistcoat, so I don't look too obviously like someone who went back to the wrong house after a date. Thankfully, there's no one in Josh's house as I scuttle out and head straight back to my place—not only to Emmy, but to Chelsea, as well, it turns out, who's managed to waddle over for a visit. Both are grinning like mad. "Well?" Emmy asks as soon as I get in the door, eyes shining. "Did you do it? What was he like?" I blush bright red, but feel kind of smug as well. After all, I have just lost my virginity and now I know what all the fuss is about. I also feel I probably managed something a bit more intimate than Emmy usually has. "Yes, we did, and it's none of your business." "Oh, leave him alone, Emmy. We're both just pleased you had a good time." Chelsea gives me a smile and I wonder what kind of bastard would ever leave her, especially after unprotected sex. "Are you two still going out, then?" "Yeah, going out officially now," I say a little proudly. "Does he know about … ?" Chelsea mouths and waves her hand over her left eye. I scowl at her a bit, because although Josh knows, Emmy still doesn't and I don't quite have the confidence to shout it out to the whole world yet. Emmy shakes her head. "I feel so proud; my little Luke all grown up and going on dates!" I turn my scowl on her. She used to mother me a bit in first year, because I couldn't cook for myself and wasn't very good at waking up early enough for lectures, and she has never quite lost hold of the idea that I don't need her to look after me continuously in order to survive. "Well, I didn't just come over to see you do the walk of shame," Chelsea remarks, grinning at me. "We're having a party over at our flat Wednesday evening, to celebrate the one year anniversary of Charles having the flat, but mostly so all you lot can get pissed while I stay all sober and miserable. You're both invited, and of course, so is your new boyfriend, Luke!" I bite my lip. Somehow, I can't see Josh getting on with my friends. Last night, he might have been happy to admit his friends aren't the best, but in the cold light of day, I know he still enjoys hanging around with them. There's still enough of the magic of last night left, though, for me to think it might work. "Sure, I'll invite him. Don't know if he'll come along, though; he has lots of other activity things, sporty things." 25 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

"I want to see what he's like," Chelsea insists. "He's hot," Emmy assures her. "I would have gone for him if he were straight." I head up to my room and pull out my mobile. I spend a few minutes thinking about what I'm going to say, so my stupid, crazy brain doesn't blurt out the wrong thing. I also prepare myself for the fact that half of Josh's stupid friends will probably be listening in and sniggering in the background. Then I phone up, waiting excitedly to hear his voice. Two rings and he hangs up on me. The stupid, useless, rugby-playing fucker hangs up on me! *~*~* Josh phones back twenty minutes later and I'm tempted to ignore it, but I want to hear his excuses and preferably an apology. I leave it for a good few rings, though, before finally picking up, and snapping, "Yes?" "Hey, Luke." He doesn't sound apologetic; he sounds kind of excited. "What did you want?" "What?" "You phoned while I was in lectures." He sounds a little smug, and at first I think it's because he thinks his subject lectures are more superior, but it suddenly hits me that it's basically the voice of a man who just got laid. "Everything was okay, right? You know how to work the coffee machine? You can help yourself to cereal, if you want." "I'm fine; I'm home already." I try to sound a little pissed at him for ignoring me for lectures, but I'm not sure it comes across over the phone. Then I remember that I've agreed to tell him when I'm pissed off at him. "Next time that happens, at least text me or something, alright?" "Next time I won't be running off to lectures at eight in the morning. I felt awful leaving you behind and couldn't concentrate at all." The smugness has gone from his voice and he sounds like he means it. "And yeah, I'll text." I smile, wishing I could reach down the phone and hug him. "Are you free next Wednesday evening?" Silence for a bit, but I can hear him rustling papers in the background. I can't hear his mates talking, though, and I think this time he made sure they weren't within earshot before phoning me. "I … could be. What's happening Wednesday evening?" "One of my friends is having a party and she invited us both along." I suddenly feel insanely, terribly nervous, in case Josh decides that whatever he has on Wednesday evening is more important than seeing me again. I try to remind myself that I'm panicking for no reason, but it doesn't help. I start babbling a little, trying to convince him. "Loads of the guys I know will be coming, and there'll be drinks and stuff."

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"Luke. Luke." It takes two repeats of my name to get me to shut the hell up. "Sure, I'll come. I really want to meet your mates." Josh actually does sound enthusiastic. "Do you want me to come over to yours first?" "Yeah, then we can head over with Emmy and everyone." "Sounds cool. See you then." "Sure. Bye." I feel awkward. Is there something you're meant to say when you hang up on your boyfriend? I want to say something special, but I have no idea what and don't want to feel stupid. "Okay, that's good. Well, see you Wednesday, then. Bye, babe." And he hangs up. Babe! Part of me wants to feel insulted, but it gets strangled and stomped on by the rest of me, which feels a happy little warm glow which lasts until halfway through my first lecture. 'Babe' isn't the best endearment, but it's better than nothing at all.

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FOURTH Josh arrives early on Wednesday, just before I start panicking about whether he'll turn up. I drag him to my room before Emmy starts flirting with him or giggling too much. As soon as we get in, I realise I haven't cleaned it for a while, but Josh doesn't notice. He's not looking at my room; he's looking at me. His arms snake around my waist, and then I'm melting into another one of his amazing kisses. He lets it linger for a while, and then pulls back, reaching his hand down to stroke my arse gently. "You feeling alright after Sunday?" "I'm fine," I smile, trying to kiss him again. "I-I don't know if it went a bit far. I'm sorry." He smiles back. "You were just so cute and hot and … " "It's fine. I loved it." I manage to stop him talking, because it was an amazing time, and panicking about whether it was the right thing to do is really not what I want to do right now. It certainly didn't feel wrong, and I'm fed up with panicking for no reason. "We should do it again sometime." "We should do it again lots of times … " His hands slide under my jeans and I squirm a bit, and then jump about a foot in the air when Emmy bangs on the door. "Are you guys gonna come out of there anytime soon? We're heading off, but you can follow later if you need some time." "We're just coming," I yell back at the door. When I pull away, I notice Josh is blushing a bit. He manages another squeeze at me as I open the door, and for a moment, I am seriously tempted to shove him onto the bed and follow Emmy later. However, I just don't feel I could face Charles if I did that. "Stop it! Don't distract me." Josh just grins again, and we head off with Emmy and three of her friends. Josh looks a bit awkward; I guess he's not used to being around all girls so much and Emmy's friends can be a bit intimidating. They all look the same—well, not the same, they all have different hair colours and body shapes and whatever … but they all wear high heels, short dresses, and have long, straight hair and glossed lips. They make me nervous whenever they get ready to go out, when they transform from geeky college kids into these weird, overconfident women. We arrive pretty much on time, because Charles gets pissed if we're late. Chelsea's friends are already there, all making coo-y baby noises at her bump. Thibby is at the computer, making a karaoke playlist, so I kind of know which way this evening is headed. Evenings with Thibby always tend to include singing; Thibby doesn't drink, but he seems to have the ability to get drunk on songs. "Good evening." Charles comes over and I figure he's safe enough as my least weird friend, so I steer Josh toward him. "You must be Josh?"

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Josh nods and holds out a six pack of some kind of lager he brought along. "Can I stick these in your fridge?" "If you can find room." I leave them chatting and slide over to the cupboard to get a drink. There's not much choice because Charles likes good wine and has no money now he's saving for the baby, but I manage to find half a bottle of sherry that still smells alright and decide to steal that for the evening. "Luke!" Thibby comes over and wraps his arms around me, balancing his chin on the top of my head. "Don't tell me that thing you brought with you is your boyfriend. I thought you had taste." "Yes, he's my boyfriend!" I hiss, trying to disentangle myself. I'm a little afraid of introducing Thibby to Josh, to be honest, and I'm not sure about which one of them I'm worried. Thibby scowls at Josh. "Look at him, seriously, look at him. You made him sound exciting and scary. He's just some boring, middle class bloke drinking lager." He finally lets go of me and I grab one of Chelsea's plastic mics. "How did the third date go?" "It went well." I can't stop myself smirking a little at the memory. "It went very well." Thibby looks a little shocked. "You didn't. Did you? Did he? Who did what? I thought you were never going to end up in a relationship." "It's none of your business," I snap, because Thibby is starting to annoy me. It looks like Josh isn't the only one with irritating friends. "But he's not your type at all, Luke. Seriously ,what do you have in common?" "Well, what do you and Charles have in common? Just because we don't both have emo hairstyles and fucking scars doesn't mean we can't go out." I lower my voice, so Josh doesn't hear me having an argument and the rest of the room doesn't hear me yelling about my scar. "Shall we start?" Thibby turns away from me shaking his head and picks up the other mic. "Before you turn into someone completely different." I glance over my shoulder to where Josh and Charles are sitting on the couch, talking together. They look like they're getting on well; just a pair of good friends with no worries or awkwardness. For a brief moment, I feel slightly jealous of how well they're getting on and I'm not even sure of which one I feel most jealous. But then Josh looks up, sees me, gives me a big grin, and suddenly, I feel all shivery inside. I don't mind him looking at me like that anymore. I just can't believe how it all worked out; that he wants to be with me and I want to be with him. Thibby follows my gaze and gives Josh a sort of snide look. "So do you just hang around with sporty jerks now?" "Shut up." I scowl and press play. I don't know why I'm such good friends with Thibby when he pisses me off so much. He was my first gay friend and I think we just never stopped hanging around together. He's still looking daggers at Josh, and I suddenly start to wonder whether he's a bit jealous. Not of Josh, but of me, having a relationship when he just gets one-night-stands. 29 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

We get through about hour of singing, and I'm just drunk enough to start going out of tune when Josh comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. "Hey, are you gonna be singing all night?" I swing around to face him. His breath smells a little of beer. "I could do something else, why?" "I didn't come here to spend all night sitting on a couch talking about Chemistry with some guy I barely know. I came to spend some time with you." Josh's arms feel so good around me. They also kind of keep me upright as I drop the mic, and we rather awkwardly shuffle over to where Emmy and her friends are dancing. Chelsea smiles at us from the sofa with can of coke resting on her bump, her head on Charles's shoulder. I'm not bad at dancing, but I'm feeling a bit too drunk to really do it properly, so I just wrap my arms around Josh's neck, and we sway back and forward a little bit. We get some proper dancing in, though, when Charles throws Thibby off the karaoke halfway through 'Anarchy in the UK' and sticks on some actual dance music. Josh pulls me closer as we sway, his voice a little slurred as he breathes, "Luke, mate, I'm really falling for you, babe, like, I think I love you." That makes my legs even more unsteady, and my whole body shivers and heats up under his hands at the thoughts of all the things we could be doing tonight. *~*~* We don't do anything that night, as it turns out, because we end up wrapped up in a duvet next to the TV on Charles's floor, Josh snoring the happy, drunken snore of a big, sleepy, rugby guy. There's the sound of something girly happening up in Chelsea's room and Thibby's disappeared somewhere, and I have a feeling he's taken one of Emmy's friends with him. I roll over to look at Josh and it's weird, but my brain doesn't feel panicky anymore, or crazy or odd. I just feel really cool actually and a little bit soppy. I reach forward and give him a hug, running my arms over his chest. I really want to be closer to him again, but I'm terrified, in case Charles comes downstairs and catches us. He makes a little mumbling noise and I smile, reaching over to whisper in his ear, "I'm kinda falling for you, too, babe." Josh gives another mumble that sounds like, "For chrissakes, Luke, what time is it?" I scowl at him in the darkness, then roll back over and leave him to sleep. The next date, I decide, we'll get all the way through without messing it up, from heading out in the afternoon to waking up together the next morning.

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FIFTH I choose the restaurant for the fifth date, which is why we end up on wooden benches in a slightly pretentious cafe. For the first time, I actually feel comfortable sitting opposite Josh, and I've swept my hair so far sideways that with a careful peek, the bottom of my scar is just about visible. I'm pretty sure nobody except Josh is going to stare at me that closely, however. We go back to Josh's again afterwards and curl up together on the sofa, having a brief discussion about what to watch, which gets slightly heated until Josh finally caves and switches the sport off. It's not enough to spoil the date, though, and to be honest, Josh doesn't spend much time with his eyes on the television. We spend a bit more time talking after Josh switches the TV off; although it doesn't quite reach the magical atmosphere of our first time, we get pretty intimate on the sofa, and then head up to bed. I think Josh still feels a bit guilty about taking it so quickly last time, because we don't go all the way. In the end, we fall asleep with our arms wrapped around each other, although I have to break away a bit fairly quickly, since Josh lying on my arm gives me pins and needles. My phone goes off at two in the morning, and I have to roll over Josh to get at it. He grumbles and pulls the duvet away from me as I scramble around in the dark, swearing under my breath. I think I'm just about ready to kill whoever's on the other end when I finally manage to grab it from under my shoe. "Luke, for fuck's sake, how long does it take you to get your phone out?" Thibby screams as soon as I answer, and then I know that something's wrong, because Thibby never, ever panics this much. "What is it?" I ask quickly. Josh's breathing has changed, so I know he's awake now, and his arm wraps around me in the darkness. "Chelsea." He doesn't really need to say much more. I close my eyes, trying to stop my brain-panic going into overdrive. "Charles just phoned, I'm in a taxi, she's at the central hospital." "Is she okay?" I ask, and beneath me, I feel Josh tense up completely as he suddenly works out what I'm talking about. "We'll be over there soon, I swear." "I don't know how it's going. Charles was all … Charles. What do you mean 'we'll be over soon'? Who's coming with you? What the hell does your stupid lump of a boyfriend have to do with Chelsea's baby?" I shut off my call and fall out of the bed, scrambling for some clothes and wincing as Josh turns on the light. He looks pale. "Was … was that your friend?" "Chelsea's baby." I grab at my jeans and try to phone a taxi all at once. "Y-You don't mind coming with me?" Josh shakes his head, looking like he's going to be sick. 31 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

*~*~* I keep hold of Josh's hand in the taxi, but for some reason, it almost feels like I'm the one comforting him rather than the other way 'round. We practically run into the hospital and get directed to the right bed by a nurse who seems seriously confused as to why Chelsea has so many men coming to visit her and wait for the baby. Josh stops right outside the ward door and squeezes my hand so hard I wince. "Luke, babe, I can't go in there." I nod and manage to get my hand free, scuttling inside. Chelsea's kneeling up in a nightgown, her knees spread out and her hands grabbing at her stomach. She gives a weak smile when she sees me. "Hey, Lukie … you didn't need to drag yourself up at this time, it'll be fine." "Are you okay?" I ask kinda stupidly. "Yeah it's fine … just started the contractions about an hour ago." Charles is holding her hand, looking like he's just been hit by a brick. Thibby is holding Charles and doesn't look much better. "Luke, maybe you should take Thibby outside and get him a drink of water or something … " It seems strange her so calm, when we're all standing around panicking, although I notice she keeps tight hold of Charles's hand as I lead Thibby out. He stumbles off, looking for a vending machine and muttering under his breath about bastards who don't use protection, and I sit down next to Josh in the waiting room. He still looks pretty bad, so I take his hand and squeeze it gently. "She's fine. Really." "Good." "I–I guess you aren't used to being around women giving birth," I say to sort of lighten the mood a bit. Josh's friends are mostly guys and I can't see them getting involved with anything to do with babies. "I've been here before." Josh gives a quick nod and almost snaps my hand in two again. "With my mum … when she had my sister." I blink, surprised. "I didn't know you had a sister." I should have let myself think about that one. I should have twigged a little sooner, but it was still early in the morning, I hadn't quite woken up and I was all shaken about Chelsea. "I don't." Josh's voice is short and clipped, and I suddenly know what he's about to say and know why he's been shaking every time I mention Chelsea's pregnancy. I want to tell him to stop, that he doesn't have to say it, but I can't get the words out and he just keeps talking. "She didn't make it. Didn't make it out." He slumps forward a little and I wrap my arms around him. My brain starts to panic again, but I shut it down because I can't panic now. Not when Josh is almost crying, Thibby's stalking around the hospital in a terrified rage and Chelsea's having a baby. "Josh … " I can't think of what to say, then, so I just keep hold of him, remembering how comforting it felt when he was holding me. 32 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

I'm still hugging him when Thibby comes back, holding a can of something. He gives us a quick glance, but he doesn't look angry or snarky; just slightly like he wishes he could join in. He doesn't sit down, either, just keeps walking up and down the corridor until the can is empty, then he heads back into the ward. I sort of want to go back in with him, so I whisper to Josh, "Are you okay if I take a look?" He grips me tight for a bit, and then nods, taking a deep breath. "Y-yeah. Luke, kid, you know I'm not usually like this, sorry. It just got to me a bit, yeah?" "It's fine," I whisper, although I have no idea why I'm whispering. I don't like hospitals all that much; they remind me of death and ugliness, and it feels strange associating them with birth and Chelsea's baby. I get my hand free and head back inside. Chelsea's leaning forward now, still kneeling and grabbing her stomach with a nurse rubbing her back. Charles is sitting by the bed, and if he wasn't interested in relationships before this, I think the look on his face makes it clear that he'll be even less interested afterward. Thibby is rubbing Charles's shoulders. God knows what the nurse thinks about it all. She's probably wondering if Chelsea's their surrogate baby's mother or something. That thought makes me laugh a little, even though it comes out all nervous and it's clearly no time for laughter. Chelsea looks up and smiles, reaching forward to take my hand. "I-it doesn't look like there's going to be a problem … unnggg … " "Does it hurt?" "Urghhh, yes." The nurse makes soothing noises and Chelsea makes a face. "I've got a whole heap of pain meds, though; Charles keeps feeding them to me, so it's not too bad; just feels like period cramps at the moment." She shakes her head, laughing a little, as well, although it's not much better than my laugh. "Like you would know!" "Josh's here," I remark, as Thibby heads out again to get Charles a drink of something. "I'm sorry. I just really wanted to bring him, and I know you barely know him and he hasn't come in to see you, but I—" "Luke, shh … " She strokes my hand and I feel like a bastard, because I'm meant to be giving her reassurance, but instead it's the other way around. "Don't worry so much. I don't care if you've brought Josh. It'll just give the nurses another candidate for 'potential father'. I've already had them asking about you and Thibby." I manage to force a smile and clutch her hand tightly as she grabs her stomach again. *~*~* Thibby and Josh are asleep when I head back out again, Thibby's head slumped down and resting on Josh's shoulder. I quickly shake them both, trying to hide my excitement. "Thibby, get up, it's, it's—" My voice is cut off by a high, plaintive cry, which steals my thunder by breaking the news I was about to give. Josh's eyes open wide and Thibby almost falls off the chair. "Jesus, s-she's okay?" 33 | Emily Gould - Chrysalis

"Fucking hell, Luke!" Thibby gets up first, stumbling a little as he gets to the door and wrenches it open. Josh stands up slowly and I wrap my arm around his waist. "Do you want to see?" "Y-yeah … " We head inside together. Chelsea's sitting cross-legged with the baby in her lap and Charles has pushed his fringe forward over his face to hide the fact that he's been sniffling. Thibby sort of stops dead in the doorway, staring at them all and I can't help but feel a little proud. Out of all of them, I was the first one to hold the baby, as the nurse helped it out of Chelsea, and I didn't drop it or screw it up at all. Sure, I haven't yet actually managed a proper date with my boyfriend that didn't involve screaming, crying, or unexpected midnight births, but I've held a baby and that feels pretty special. I slide my hair back behind my ear and the nurse gives an unexpected frown when she sees my scar, and then goes right back to fussing over Chelsea and the tiny baby. "Wow … " Thibby breathes. And Josh, my stupid, loud, crazy, rugby shirt-wearing boyfriend, bursts into tears. *~*~* "Louise Moonstone Millar." Josh gives his three little nods. "Sounds nice." "Better than Thibault," Thibby grumbles. "Which is what you get when your mum smokes marijuana throughout your pregnancy." Charles prods him with a pencil and he ducks back behind the safety of his computer screen. "Well, at least I didn't cry. You guys were all sobbing away like schoolgirls mourning a pet rabbit." I look up anxiously at Josh, but he just grins and flips Thibby off. I think he's getting used to Thibby. In fact, he seems to get on well with Thibby, although I have no idea why, given that Thibby alternates between treating him like an idiot and treating him like a waste of air. Maybe because Thibby is so different to all Josh's other friends; maybe, because however much of a tosser he is, everyone seems to get on with Thibby. "I'm just pleased they're both alright," Charles says. He's sitting at the table with Thibby, trying to work out how much the hot water bill is going to change with a new baby. From upstairs, we can hear all Chelsea's friends chatting excitedly and playing with the baby-things, and occasionally a small scream or gurgle from Louise. "You're just pleased the baby's not called 'Emerald'," Thibby replies snarkily. I tug my feet onto the sofa and curl up on Josh's lap, pushing his Chemistry notes onto the floor. "We should go out." "Tonight? I thought we were going to help Charles put up the cot."

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"Tomorrow, then." I still want to have a complete perfect date. "Rugby practise." "Urrgh … fine. Day after—no, wait, I have to help Emmy with her project. Fuck." Thibby looks up at us and shakes his head. Josh bends down, and whispers in my ear, "Tell you what, babe, we'll help Charles tonight, and I'll skip out of practise early tomorrow and take you somewhere really special." I smile and lean back against him, looking up at Thibby just in time to see him scowl and disappear behind the computer again. I tuck my hair back behind my ear and relax, feeling calm and relaxed all over. It feels good having a boyfriend. It feels good that my boyfriend is Josh.

FIN

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Emily Gould Emily has been making up stories since before she could properly speak and has progressed from talking about them, to writing them, to finally typing and publishing them. She writes the kind of stories she likes reading, and is always gratified and mildly surprised to find other people enjoy reading them too. As well as writing stories about men who fancy each other, she enjoys knitting, listening to glam rock, and doing yoga (although not all at the same time). Emily has a couple of other lives, and in one of them she is a serious science blogger for Scientific American: http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/lab-rat.