We Could Have Fallen in Love

The smell of perfume, mixed with the strong scent of cinnamon candles and the mingled odors of the hurried Christmas shoppers, was overwhelming him. Every available surface of the store was covered with makeup, scented candles, perfumes, bottles of makeup removers, discarded gift cards, and all other kinds of junk. The majority of the pushing crowd was female, though in the corner of his eye he could distinctly see a man peering in front of one of the many mirrors around the store, applying eyeshadow. Dougie Poynter was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Through one of the mirrors directly in front of him, he caught his reflection. His blond hair was messy, his hands were awkwardly shoved in the pockets of his Billabong jeans that hung low enough on his hips to show the tops of his boxers, and he had unconsciously adapted a bemused expression at the havoc around him. Through the mirror, he caught sight of a teenage girl, eyeing him suspiciously. Dougie ducked his face away before she could remember why he looked so familiar and pulled the hood of his Hurley sweatshirt over his head, giving him some cover. “Jazzie,” he muttered to his little sister. “Do we really have to be here?”

“Yes,” Jazzie Poynter, Dougie’s little sister responded exasperatedly. “I’m sorry this is taking so long, but I really have to get something.”

Dougie sighed. He had just returned to London after being away for a couple of weeks. He and the rest of McFly had gone up north to film the video for their newest single for Children In Need, Do Ya, and after they’d been busy doing some promotions and official charity work all around the country. He’d just touched down in London a couple of nights ago and this was the first chance he had to spend some time with his sister. They had been planning on going out to an early dinner before she remembered she still had to get a Christmas present for one of her colleagues and rushed them into Sephora, where Dougie was now starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

“Dougie.” His sister grabbed his arm. “Concentrate.”

“What?” Dougie said crabbily. “What do I know about makeup?”

Jazzie ignored this as she pulled him down to another section. “I think I’ll get her perfume,” she mused, stopping in front of the display.

“Yes, good idea, take one and let’s get out of here,” Dougie said impatiently.

“Dougie, just hold on.” Dougie sighed as she began picking up various perfumes and analyzing them. He was famished.

Jazzie drifted down the aisle to examine other perfumes. Dougie followed her absentmindedly. All of the sudden, he smelled a very familiar smell. And he completely froze.

No. Not here. Dougie turned around slowly, his heart pounding. Every time he’d been in London, he’d succeeded in completely avoided her. He scanned the crowd carefully. Then he frowned. She didn’t seem to be anywhere. His breathing returned to normal. False alarm.

Dougie hated how she still had this reaction over him. Even when she wasn’t actually there. Every time Harry returned from visiting his cousin, Dougie never asked how she was doing. And Harry never said anything, not to Dougie. But the few hints he did drop always sent a pang through his heart.

Dougie looked down at the perfume bottles lined up in front of him. The familiar scent grew stronger. He frowned and reached to pick one up. His hand hesitated between four possible choices. He chose the middle one, an inconspicuous bottle with a gold tint. The label read L’Occitane—Honey Miel and Lemon Citron. He grabbed one of the tester strips and sprayed the perfume on it. He brought the tester to his nose and deeply inhaled.

It smelled exactly like her. Soft vanilla and patchouli mixed perfectly with honey and lemon. The scent pricked senses in his brain, bringing forth memories that Dougie had vowed to erase. Dougie closed his eyes for a moment, unable to move.

“Doug, I picked one out, let’s get outta here,” Jazzie declared, suddenly reappearing. She gave him an odd look. “What are you doing?”

Dougie jumped and put the perfume bottle back and shoved the tester in his pocket. “Nothing, let’s go.” He shook his head as they headed to the register. He was over SJ. Of course he was.

“Sarah Jane!” her boss’ voice screeched.

“Yes, Michelle, I’m coming,” SJ Judd called back. When she stood up, the many files slipped off her lap and under her desk. SJ sighed as she dropped down to her knees to pick them up. As she tried to stand up again, she hit her head on the side of her desk. “Fuck,” she cursed.

“SARAH JANE!!” Her boss’ voice went up a whole pitch.

Rubbing her head, SJ hurried to her boss’ office. It was almost eight-thirty. SJ should have been finished with work and on her way back to her dorm room. But no, her completely psycho boss had forced her to stay late and organize some files, while she sat in her office, totally having phone sex with her secret lover.

SJ hated her boss. Not only did she hate her boss, she hated this whole job. Working at a law firm was so not SJ’s thing. SJ was an artsy person. She did not enjoy filing things. It totally stifled her creative impulses. SJ smiled to herself at how pretentious that sounded. She stopped smiling as she stepped in her boss’ office.

Her boss was sitting with her feet up on her desk, filing her nails carelessly. “Oh, there you are, Sarah Jane,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t just been screaming for her. “We just got a couple of new folders in earlier today. Take a look at them and give me a write-up on each case before you leave.”

SJ stared at her. Was she delusional? First of all, SJ had already stayed a half hour after she was supposed to leave, and second of all, if the folders had been delivered “early today”, why the fuck was she just giving them to her now to work on? To make SJ’s life miserable, that was why. “Pardon me, Michelle,” she said as politely as she could. “But I was supposed to leave a half hour ago.”

“And…?” Michelle didn’t even look up.

SJ’s jaw almost dropped. She quickly closed it. “Er, well, that technically means my shift is over,” she said carefully.

“Oh really?” Michelle yawned. “Get these done by tomorrow, then.” She picked up her phone and turned away, assuming the conversation was over.

“Er, Michelle?” SJ said timidly.

“What?” Michelle snapped.

“Tomorrow I don’t have work. The office closes two weeks for Christmas,” SJ pointed out cautiously.

Michelle narrowed her eyes at her, clearly irritated. “Well, you know what then, I want those write-ups on my desk first thing in the morning the day the office opens again. Am I making myself clear? Yes? Now get the hell out of my office!” she shouted.

SJ grabbed the folders and hurried out. Her boss was such a bitch. This meant a shitload of work SJ had to do over the holidays. Merry fucking Christmas to you too, SJ thought bitterly as she packed up her bag and shoved the files in. She couldn’t wait to get back to her dorm. But before she left the building, she made her regular stop to the first floor bathroom.

As always, it was empty. SJ stopped to look at herself in the mirror for a second. Her gold-flecked green eyes stared back at her. Just two weeks ago, SJ had dyed her average brown hair a light auburn shade. It looked nice. SJ pushed her hair back to look at her face. She looked tired, SJ could tell. And she had gotten a little thinner since the summer. But SJ had always been careful not to lose enough weight that people caught on to what was going on.

SJ turned away from herself and dropped her bag on the ground before entering a stall. She got down on her knees in front of the toilet. Then, in her regular daily habit for about a month and a half, she stuck her finger down her throat and made herself gag until the vomit came.