Chasing Chaos

A/N: The 2005 part comes first in this chapter. Just because it messed with the flow to put it at the end.



2005

It would be safe for you to assume that as far as legal trouble, I’d had none as an adolescent. I had managed to steer clear of activities that were too devastatingly illegal, at least until the summer had rolled around and the whole Oli situation had arisen. At which point, I’d found myself in more dodgy situations than I previously had. Like on sketchy neighborhood weed pickups or on one of Oli’s never-ending quests to find the perfect smoke spot.

We’d done this several times before, venturing out into the mossy wet woods around the area. All of this was in attempts to find a quiet secluded place to smoke a joint. On this particular day, a mostly warm Monday in early August, it was just the two of us. Though we spent a great deal of our time with his bandmates, we also spent an extensive amount of time by ourselves. The only times where I found myself without Oliver at my side were when I was sleeping or showering.

“This way,” I pointed to a diverging path, towards a possible clearing.

He nodded, agreeing. His hand was gripping mine and leading the way. I leaned into him, hugging his middle. He laughed a little as my fingertips trailed down his side. It felt good but I felt a little guilty. This shouldn’t make me so happy. I should be ambivalent. The more attached I was, the harder the end would be.

As we entered a grassy opening, I nudged him. “I’ve a question…”

“And I’ve an answer,” he responded, with a kiss on my temple.

“I’m not trying hard enough with the Tom thing.”

“Tha’ weren’t a question,” he said.

“I, uh, I know that… I guess my question is ef yeh think I’m not tryin’ hard enough.”

“Oh, well…” He looked out into the open space around us.

I frowned. “So yeh do think ‘m not tryin’ hard enough.” I wanted to let go of his hand, pull away and not feel so sick with myself. I drifted farther from him, so that our hands were barely attached.

“No!” He immediately reeled me back into him. “No, I don’t think that—what more can yeh really do about it? Yeh’ve done everything yeh can do.”

“’Ave I though? I’ve not even tried to talk to ‘im in weeks.”

“E’s a wanker, yeh don’t need to talk to ‘im while e’s actin’ like that.”

“But I do, Oli… I really do. I need to talk to ‘im,” I said firmly, pulling my hand from his and breaking off on my own. “This is Tom. TOM,” I emphasized. “Yeh know—yeh’ve seen it. ‘E’s my best friend, my only friend.”

He followed my movements, reaching out to me. “Oh, come on, e’s not yer only friend. Yeh’ve Gracie; yeh an’ ‘er are practically sisters. An’ yeh’ve the guys; they love yeh. An’ yeh ‘ave me. We’re friends.”

How could I tell him that he wasn’t my friend? That we would never be friends. That this wasn’t friendship. That this wasn’t how friends acted. “Yeah… I’ve you…” I mumbled. “For now.”

He caught the last bit. “For now?”

I just nodded. “For now.”

And he accepted it with a small glance my way but I was turning away from him. He brushed hair away from the back of my neck and placed a kiss there. “Sav…”

“Are we goin’ to smoke?” I asked quickly.

“Yeah, sure, we’re goin’ to smoke,” he said. “Yeh o’reight, love?”

I twirled around, buoyant smile returning. “Absolutely.”

He gave me an unsure look while digging in his pockets for his small glass bowl and wrinkled plastic bag. He leaned down to quickly kiss me but I turned my cheek ever so slightly and his lips clipped the corner of my mouth. He didn’t seem fazed by it at all and started the task of packing the bowl. He did it with expert swiftness and without looking too intently at it; his eyes were focused on me. Once he was finished, he held out the bowl for me. “Ladies first.”

I took it from his hands and it was hard to look at him. His deceptively warm eyes, green-in-the-right-light hazel, never left me and it was nerve-wracking. I didn’t want his tricky stare to snare me, pull me back in. God, falling was so easy.

Holding a breath of smoke, I passed the bowl back to him. Just as he was flicking the lighter, a sound came from behind us; it was the sound of people walking somewhere in the nearby woods. Oli pressed his finger to his lips as I released a cloud of smoke into the air. Nervously, I bit my lip. The noise came again and Oli’s hands were over mine, taking the bowl that he had just passed away from me again and hiding it in his pockets. The crunching sound was then accompanied by a voice, the words not yet audible.

Oli’s eyes flicked around anxiously. But he quickly pulled me against him and crushed his mouth to mine. I could tell by his urgency that this kiss was some stunt to appear as though we were doing something other than what we had been doing. He was quite clever when he needed to be. He didn’t stop kissing me until we heard someone speaking to us.

“This is private property!” The old woman creaked as I wheeled around to see her, Oli’s protective arms around my waist. Her hair was wild about her head and her teeth seemed to have completely rotted from her mouth. “An’ don’t think I dunno what yeh kids do back here. I ain’t stupid.”

“We’re not doin’ nothin’…” Oli stated.

“Like hell yeh ain’t. I’ve phoned the police.”

Oli went rigid behind me. “Yeh’ve not,” he contested.

“I ‘ave,” she spouted defiantly.

I stepped forward. “Yeh’ve no reason to ring them. We didn’t know this were private property. Yeh’ve no signs or anythin’. So no one would possibly arrest us.”

The lady was briefly disturbed by my quickness, but after an instant she came back with “Maybe they can’t arrest yeh for trespassin’ but last I heard that marijuana drug is still ILLEGAL.”

“I don’t even know what marijuana is,” Oli quipped.

I shoved him. “Don’t press ‘er buttons, Oliver.”

“Think we’ve o’ready pressed her buttons.”

“Damn right yeh’ve pressed my buttons!” She shouted. “An’ for the last time,” she cried before muttering “Fuckin’ kids.”

In a reassuring tone, he whispered into my ear “She didn’t even call them.” But betraying this, a siren sounded in the nearby distance. “Bullocks,” he mumbled.

I could only think of one thing. “Run,” I demanded of him, tugging on his hand and pushing myself into motion. Oli hesitationed for a moment, not moving as quick as I had but eventually jumping into a sprint as well.

I was never particularly athletic. I’d always had low marks in PE. Mostly because I was bored easily by the activities. But when the need arose, like when Andrea Lasik threatened to beat me up in Year 10, I could run pretty fast. This was a time when I saw the need.
Oli bounded over a broken log as a branch scratched across my arm. It was hard to keep my hand attached to his as we weaved through the trees. And it was even harder when we tried to diverge in different directions. Out of breath I laughed and instructed “Yeh go that way, I’ll go this way. Meet yeh back at yer car?” I pecked his lips quickly.

“Wait!” He called as I turned away. He reached out for my hand but I was already out of his grasp. “No, come with me,” he urged. “What ef—“

“Don’t worry!” I shouted, laughing more and continuing to travel through the trees. Part of me knew I was headed towards the sirens but it felt better to me than letting Oli be the one getting caught, possession, paraphernalia, priors and all. I felt protective of him; he had a little boy quality about him on occasion, like he was just a child gone astray. Was my injecting into his life some unconscious plan to save him and set him right or something? Yeah, probably.

I criss-crossed the paths and greenery almost cheerfully. Evading law enforcement certainly felt exciting and dangerous. I’d definitely succeeded in changing the tenor of my life. I’d never run from the police. Or been caught by them. Not until just then.

Mid-stride, I crashed right into the heavy-set officer. I’d not even seen him amid the trees. Though he was not shaken by the accidental assault, I promptly fell to my bum, crashing down onto a jumpy rock. “Oy! Fuck!” I swore.

“Goin’ somewhere?” He said through his thick mustache.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry?”

“Where’s yer friend?”

“Wha’ friend?” I asked innocently.

He pulled me up, not quite forcefully but with some amount of authority behind it. “’Ad a complaint about a couple kids on this private land ‘ere.”

“Dunno ‘bout a couple,” I huffed. “It were jus’ me. Goin’ for a bit o’ a job while the weather’s nice,” I lied and it was so easy to do. Like a hidden skill surfacing at a dire time. I lied to myself all the time; lying to others should be a breeze.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“I’m not. ‘M jus’ tellin’ yeh—“

“I’m gonna ‘ave to take yeh with me.”

“Wha? Why?”

“’S private land yer joggin’ on.”

“Well, I didn’ know. There aren’ any signs.”

He didn’t respond to this, just continued leading me down a path I knew led to the road. “Wha’s yer name?”

“Savanna Harvey.”

“’Ow old are yeh, S’vanna?”

“Sixteen.”

We were out in the clearing where his car was parked with its coloured lights twisting from atop his cruiser. Though the idea of being in police custody had me quite freaked out, again I had the thought that I was glad it wasn’t Oli. I imagined this policeman would not be so easy with him.

“D’yeh ‘ave any weapons or drugs on yeh?” He asked as he pointed at a spot where I was to stand. I stared at him blankly. “I’m askin’ yeh now so yeh’ve the option of cooperation.”

“I’ve nothin’.”

“Gonna need to pat yeh down.”

“Uh… okay.”

This was not a nice thing, though the policeman barely touched me. It was still terrifying. And it affirmed my assumptions that this lifestyle could be dangerous. Here I was being semi-searched by the Fuzz. This definitely was not what would have been occurring if I’d focused my energy on getting back in Tom’s graces rather than focusing on parties and sex and Oli.

“Stand right there while I check yer name.” He pointed firmly to the spot I already stood and I became fixed very still standing there. This is what it felt like on the other side of the line. It felt like being thrilled and anxious, all jitters and worries. Could he tell I’d just been getting high? Would I be arrested? Worse still, would he catch Oli?

I was concerned more with Oli’s well-being than my own. Silly girl.

“Well, Miss Harvey,” the officer said after he’d punched my name into his car computer. “Looks like yeh’ve got a clean record.”

“Aye. I’m never in trouble,” I stated. “An’ I swear I didn’t know it were private property an’ I were trespassin’ an’ such.”

“Did yer friend know?”

Again, I resisted. “Wha friend?”

He frowned at me. “I see yeh won’t come off it.” I remained tight-lipped. “O’reight, I’m gonna let yeh off with a warning…”

I immediately launched into gratitude. “Oh, thank yeh sir!”

“Oy, wait a minute… Yeh’ll get a warnin’ an’ I’ll drive yeh back so yeh can tell yer parents now.”

I resisted the urge to smile. This would give away the fact that my parents weren’t even in town. They’d gone again to Mansfield for the evening. They had taken to spending as much time away from me as possible. Both of them, Mum especially, had all but given up trying to regulate my behavior. Though I’m sure if they knew I was headed home in a police car, they would find a way to manage me better.

---

2009

Peter had cancelled our plans for the evening because Emily’s mother had decided to drop her off a day earlier. I wouldn’t deny Peter time with his daughter; I knew what she meant to him and what he was beginning to mean to me. So I’d gone home after working eight hours, wanting to take a bath and just relax instead. But upon stepping through the threshold, Mum immediately began a tirade about the dishes I’d left on the kitchen counter that morning, which lead into a rant about how lazy I’d become since moving away. I wasn’t entirely sure of the reasoning behind her hostility, it was more rampant than normal, but I was not in the mood. I needed to get out of the house and quick. And after cleaning Tom’s shower, it wasn’t hazardous to bathe in. I texted him, letting him know I would be coming over. He said he wasn’t home, that he was with Evie but I was welcome at the flat as long as I didn’t burn it down. So I went there instead.

I’d learned that the door to Tom’s flat was almost never really locked. Tom had explained that Oli forgot his keys more times than he remembered them and the landlord didn’t appreciate drunken calls at four in the morning asking to use the spare key. And Tom said that it helped if I wanted to come and go from their flat as well. He knew the aversion I had to my parents’ house and sympathized.

I stepped into the flat and found that there was intensely loud music coming from the kitchen, Johnny Truant if my memory was serving. I peeped my head into the kitchen. Oli was standing at the stove, chopping something with one hand and pounding his other against his thigh in time to the music. “Oy!” I called over the blaring music.

Surprisingly he’d heard me and turned around. He reached over to the iHome and turned the music down. “’Ello…”

“I jus’ came over to take a bath… my house drives me mental,” I explained.

He nodded.

“Sorry for interruptin’ yer groove.”

“Eh?”

“Yeh were gettin’ into the music…” I said lightly and shook my head. “Well anyway, I’ll jus’ be—“

“ ‘M making food. Are yeh hungry? ” He pointed to the stove.

I was quite hungry. I hadn’t eaten since my 1pm break at work when I had four biscuits and an apple I’d stuffed in my handbag on the way out the door that morning. “A bit.”

“I’ve just started it. Gonna be a little while before it’s done…”

“Long enough for me to shower first?”

“Prob’ly.”

“O’reight, cool, I’ll be back.” My lips turned up slightly, showing brief gratitude for his offer before I disappeared from his sight.

Dinner with Oli. That sounded so much more difficult than I was planning on making it. I was striving for simplicity as of late and freaking out over a meal would not fit into my attempts at relaxation. So as I showered, I took everything with cool and collected maturity. Dinner would not be a problem. But I would not mention it to Peter or Tom, just for the sake of my sanity.

I reentered the kitchen with “So… wha’ve yeh made?”

He turned to face me in between his cooking. “Well, the thing is… I only know ‘ow to make like one thing. An’ it’s stir-fry. Stir-fry don’t take much skill. ‘S jus’ stirrin’ an’ fryin’.”

“Aye… Hence the name stir-fry,” I said with an amused smile. “So, wha’ev yeh been stirrin’ an’ fryin’?” I leaned on the counter, running a hand through my still wet hair.

“Veggies, yeh know… There’s some cabbage and peppers, ‘s a little spicy, an’ it’s got carrots and asparagus—“

“Asparagus?”

He frowned. “D’yeh not like asparagus?”

“Oh, yeah… I do like it. It’s my favorite vegetable actually.”

“Oh, ‘s good. I’m glad…” He shuffled to get dishes from the straining rack beside the sink. “I’ve made rice with it. Rice is easy too.” He handed me a plate. “I don’t cook much…”

“Why’re yeh cookin’ tonight then?”

“I’ve not anything else to do… Lemme tell yeh, ‘s a weird feelin.”

“Oh, I can imagine. Must be weird to not ‘ave millions o’ people wantin’ to hangout with yeh,” I joked.

“Didn’t mean it like that,” he popped defensively.

“I know. I were kiddin’.”

He continued “I meant that I’ve no work to do or interviews or practice or…”

“Yeah, I knew what yeh meant.” I followed his lead of putting a heap of veggies atop a pile of rice.

“’S kinda nice to ‘ave a quiet night with nothin’ to do.”

“I’ve a lot of those normally.”

After taking a beer from the refrigerator, he headed towards the living room. I stood at the fridge debating drink choices. Since Tom’s birthday, the idea of any form of alcohol turned my stomach. So I opted for a bottle of harmless water and went to the living room. There was a pointless sitcom rerun on the television and Oli was sitting with his feet rested on the coffee table. I took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from him. Doing this didn’t even make me anxious like it had in the past. Something had occurred this summer. The exact moment is unclear, but at some point, some tension between us had eased. But the near-comfort I felt around him didn’t feel foreign or troubling. It was familiar and warm.

After taking several silent bites of the food he’d made, I told him “This is right mint, mate.”

“Aye?” He looked proud.

“Yeah, ‘s spicy but not too much. I like it.”

“Thanks… I’ve a lota practice with it.”

“I get a lot o’ practice makin’ pasta. ‘S usually the only thing Katie an’ I can agree on. She’s quite picky.”

“Katie?”

“Oh, she’s my roommate an’ basically the coolest person I know.”

“Sans me, o’ course,” he haughtily said.

“Right,” I agreed with a playful eyeroll. “Actually, the two o’ yeh are a lot alike. She’s loud and drunk a lot. Has a mess o’ tattoos.”

“I’m not pissed that much anymore,” he said in a very matter of fact manner.

“False,” I laughed. “Yeh’ve been crumblin’ drunk like 80 percent of the time yeh’ve been home this summer.”

He was cracking into a smile. “I wouldn’ say 80 percent. ‘S less than that. Maybe 75… 79 percent at the most,” he quipped. “Besides, I ain’t drunk right now.”

“Not yet.” Some part of me was uncomfortable then. It was the conversation. Oli’s drinking still brought up aching memories.

“’Ave faith, Sav. I can stop at one. Tha’s somethin’ I’ve learned.”

“Good, I’m glad.” I continued eating, trying to not spill rice down the front of me. Self-consciousness was not one of my main issues but I endeavored to not look like a wallowing pig. There was a considerable silence as we ate and watched the terrible programme on the TV. Oli would shoot snide remarks about the characters and I would stifle laughter. It was quite light-hearted. Simple. I didn’t want to be enjoying myself as much as I was. But I couldn’t help it. Just as before, Oli was effortlessly charming and charismatic.

In efforts to distract myself from his irresistible charm, I spoke. “Oh, did Tom tell yeh ‘bout us gettin’ a tattoo together?”

He shook his head, food still in his mouth.

“Not entirely sure what we’re gonna get… Something matching though definitely.”

“Really? Tha’s nice,” he said sincerely.

“I’m thinkin’ of jus’ puttin’ it on my arm with the other’un. Go for the sleeve straight away. The idea is bloody addictin’. I totally understand why yer covered in ‘em.” I put my empty plate on the table in front of us.

“Yeh’ll ‘ave to wear long sleeves to work ef yer gonna work in a law office.”

I frowned. “I guess so.” Then I shrugged; it was habit to shake off my career anxieties. “Not all o’ us can ‘ave jobs where not only is it acceptable to ‘ave tattoos, it’s encouraged.”

“Right, there are very few o’ us out there,” he stated, just as a peculiar look crossed his face. He looked to be deliberating on some silent matter; his mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed briefly. Then with a snap decision he said “I’ve somethin’ to show yeh.” He stacked his plate on top of mine and scrambled to stand.

“Somethin to show me?”

“Aye, but yeh can’t laugh.”

“O’reight, I won’t laugh.”

“D’yeh promise?”

“I don’t know ef I can promise that,” I said congenially.

“Well contain it a bit at least,” he suggested, tugging off his purple hooded sweatershirt. I wasn’t entirely sure why he was stripping clothes for whatever he had to tell me but it was sending a prickly sensation down my spine. “Okay, ‘ere, look.” He lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal a bit of his torso. “There it is.” He pointed to one patch of ink on his side. The tattoo there was familiar to me. It was a turtle on a skateboard.

My mouth had dropped. “No… fuckin’… way.”

“I said I’d get it done.”

Automatically, I reached up to run my hand over it. I drew my fingers away quickly, gracelessly. “Wow, I… jus’ wow.” I stared with wide-eyed surprise at the tattoo. “’Ow… Ow’ long yeh ‘ad that?” I asked.

“Fuckin’ forever. Three and half years,” he estimated. I imagined it would be easy to forget when you got what tattoo when you had so many of them.

“I’m… shocked.”

“Said I’d get it, yeah? An’ I found that drawin’ one day, decided to jus’ do it.”

“That’s really cool. Thanks, Oli.”

“I like it a lot,” he said, letting his shirt fall back down. “’S one o’ my favorites.”

I was so completely overwhelmed just then but was desperately trying to keep it together. My mind was totally blown and it would be impossible to even respond to any of this. There was no coherency in my system, only gibberish. As he sat down on the sofa, much closer to me than he’d been before, I was just dumbly gawking at him. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so shattered, like my entire being had cracked and clinked to the floor. I shouldn’t have felt so devasted.

I just stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning of this. Trying to figure out why he would get such a tattoo and then wait to show me for years. I didn’t understand the game he was playing. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. I didn’t understand why even after four years, he still knew the perfect way to get under my skin.

It was then that I was aware of his leg pressed against my own and his hand resting on my arm. He leaned in slow. Way too slow. Asking permission. And I realized that he didn’t need my permission; to me, he would always be welcome. I didn’t move. I just let him come towards me. My mistake, I guess. It wasn’t until his breath was on my skin that I grasped the gravity of this. If he kissed me, I would technically be cheating on my boyfriend. Peter. Someone who was nice and considerate and actually wanted me for me. Not just for the trophy it provided. Worse still, if he kissed me, I would be letting my best friend down. Tom. Someone who only wanted the best for me, who knew Oli was not what was best for me.

But by the time all this dawned on me, it was too late. He pressed his lips to mine. It was strange because it felt like he really meant it, like he was trying to be sweet, sincere and gentle or something. His fingers grazed my cheek and I was frozen in place. My lips reacted only instinctively to his, allowing him to kiss me. But the rest of my body was still and unmoving. I could not kiss him back. Though I admit, it felt good that his lips were connected to my own. But it was good in the way that burning yourself with a cigarette felt good. It gave you an exhilarating rush but the aftermath would be painful. Kissing him was as wrong as it had always been.

He felt my reservations and pulled back suddenly. He knew it was wrong. “Fuck,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair.

My eyes were stinging. An old familiar hurt was welling in me. I thought it had been buried and forgotten. I’d repeatedly told myself that Oli meant nothing anymore, that he was only my past. He had no place in the present. I’d been convinced of that. And then, I wasn’t so sure. “Oli…” I was shaking my head, so uncertain of the world in that moment. You could have told me that the sun revolved around the earth and I wouldn’t have questioned it. Anything was possible.

“Sorry,” he stammered. Maybe a little surprised with himself as well.

“I… I ‘ave a boyfriend,” was the only thing I could say.

“Right, I know.” He didn’t look at me but I could stare only at him.

“W-why would you do that?” I asked him. It was all I really wanted to know. His motives were never good. He was doing this to torment me, to ruin my relationship with Peter, to make Tom and I fight. He was a menace. Evil and conniving. That was my only explanation.

He suddenly looked a little angry. “I thought it’s wha’ yeh fuckin’ wanted.” He stood up, groaning.

Why was he mad at me? I wasn’t the one going around kissing girls with boyfriends. “Why would I want you to kiss me?” My own temper flared a little. Apparently, I’d also forgotten how intense he made me. How he made my blood heat and bubble and sear my flesh from the inside.

“We was talkin’ and laughin’ and havin’ fun… I thought… I just thought…”

“Yeh thought ’cause we were finally doin’ somethin’ more than bein’ apathetic to the other’s presence for the first time in four years, tha’ I want yeh to kiss me?” That seemed very presumptuous of him.

“It’s jus’ tha’ yeh was lookin’ at me in tha’ way—“

“I wasn’ lookin’ at yeh any different than I o’ways ‘ave.”

He turned back to me sharply “Exactly! Yeh were lookin’ at me like yeh o’ways did. Yer eyes half closed like… fuck,” he said, facing away again, maybe figuring out that he was not going to win that particular point.

I was blinking too much and my breathing was staggered. I sucked in air with my teeth clenched and my lips turning white. I was shaking. Had I honestly believed all this angst was gone? I was foolish. Dumb. Stupid. Had I been lying to myself this whole time?
“Savanna?” He said after a moment without any words between us. I noticed then that I was kind of shaking. Not by any means violently. More like shivering repeatedly. Waves of anxious tremors hitting me. My body was readjusting to the hurt. “Savanna?” His voice was more urgent this time and he moved closer to me, still standing and still keeping his distance. “Are yeh… are yeh okay?”

Through my teeth, I said “Fine.” Closing my eyes and breathing more evenly.

“Yeh sure?”

I nodded, almost over my momentary lapse in composure. I took another instant to steady myself before opening my eyes. He was looking right at me, something that felt like concern pulsating from him. I stood up slowly and very seriously, I declared “Yeh can’t do tha’ to people. ‘S not fair.”

“Do wha?”

“Kiss ‘em. Make ‘em think things. It’s not fuckin’ fair.” I could still feel my blood burning beneath my skin but I didn’t show it. I would be collected from then on. “Yeh think that yeh can get away with anythin’ yeh please. An’ it may have worked when I were sixteen, Oliver Sykes, but I’m not a child anymore. I know better now. I won’ believe yer fuckin’ fake genuine kisses a second time.”

He took a step back. He looked afraid of me. He’d seen me angry. But not like this. He’d seen me over the top angry, voice raised so loud the neighbors could hear and fury only comparable to Medea. He had not seen this cool anger, this composed vehemence, let alone been the target of it. “Fake?” He spit, a little poison in his words to mirror my own.

“Yeh’d think yeh woulda grown outta it by now. Stopped fuckin’ around with people’s emotions. Guess not.” I shook my head, sick to my stomach and skin on fire.

His mouth was gapping open, stunned.

“See yeh later,” I said, stepping around his frozen form to leave.

I’d all but made it to the door when he spoke again. “Savanna…”

I stopped but didn’t turn to him. “Wha?”

“Yeh don’ get it, do yeh?”

“Apparently not.” I rolled my eyes, flung open the door and stepped out into the hallway, not waiting for him to play anymore games.

As I stormed from the building and down the street, the worst part of the whole thing wasn’t what I'd expected it to be. The worst part wasn’t that he had kissed me. It was that I’d wanted to kiss him back.