Why Don't I Like Girls Anymore?
14
Saturday 26th March
10.30am
I’ve just sat down on the train. There aren’t many other people here: just two old men and a small legion of backpackers.
The drive to Exeter station with my mum was silent to the point of being awkward. Mum was busy concentrating on the rain soaked windscreen and I was thinking too much about Julian to make coherent sentences. This didn’t stop her giving me a bone-crushing hug before she left.
‘Try to get along.’ Was all she said before getting back into the car.
Now here I am with three books to read my way through until the train reaches its destination...
1.45pm
I’m on the last chapter of the second book, but I just can’t find the will to finish reading it. This is very rare, seeming as books are usually like oxygen to me.
The train’s seats have pretty much all been filled now and my quiet luxury of having four seats to myself is no more.
Next to me sits an old lady, knitting some item of clothing in a murky green colour. Opposite the old lady sits a middle-aged man in a navy suit talking about sales of something into his posh silver phone. I can smell his aftershave from here and he has the look of a self-assured businessman about him.
Opposite me sits someone completely different. He’s young; I’d hazard a guess at seventeen of eighteen, and is possibly the most beautiful person I’ve seen in my life. He has pale, flawless skin and russet brown hair that is flicked up slightly at the sides and back and styled into a long fringe at the front.
The one time he looked up at me I noticed that his eyes were a deep, warm chocolate brown colour, even darker than his hair, that I could happily look into for hours on end.
He’s wearing dark blue skinny jeans, a bright purple hoodie and a T-shirt underneath with the logo ‘Meat Sucks!’ on. He’s also wearing a few thin, black wristbands on his right arm that shake with the movement of the train.
His face is long and slender with subtly prominent cheekbones and perfectly sculpted dark eyebrows. His long fingers are wrapped around a small, black MP3 player, which he constantly turns over. I can hear the metallic sounds of his music over the constant thrum of the train.
It’s not like I’m attracted to him, I’m more in awe of his appearance than anything else. He must be a fashionable London kid, whereas I’m just some misfit tourist with my boring clothes and features.
Now I feel guilty for describing this guy in such detail. I’m thinking of Julian now, a huge image of him taking up all the space inside my head.
I’m taking in every detail, remembering him with all of my senses. His tanned, smooth skin. His mellow, tropical blue eyes. His long, curly, honey brown hair. His supple, full lips.
His lips pressed against mine.
My fingers running through his soft hair.
His bare skin touching mine.
Julian.
Now I couldn’t care less about the amazing guy sitting opposite me. All I want is Julian. I know that these two weeks will be the longest of my life, because he won’t be there.
Now the train is slowing to a halt and my stop has been announced. The guy opposite me is also getting ready to move. So he is a London kid, just like I imagined.
I wonder if my dad will be waiting at the platform? Even after all this preparation time, I still don’t feel ready to see him again.
10.30am
I’ve just sat down on the train. There aren’t many other people here: just two old men and a small legion of backpackers.
The drive to Exeter station with my mum was silent to the point of being awkward. Mum was busy concentrating on the rain soaked windscreen and I was thinking too much about Julian to make coherent sentences. This didn’t stop her giving me a bone-crushing hug before she left.
‘Try to get along.’ Was all she said before getting back into the car.
Now here I am with three books to read my way through until the train reaches its destination...
1.45pm
I’m on the last chapter of the second book, but I just can’t find the will to finish reading it. This is very rare, seeming as books are usually like oxygen to me.
The train’s seats have pretty much all been filled now and my quiet luxury of having four seats to myself is no more.
Next to me sits an old lady, knitting some item of clothing in a murky green colour. Opposite the old lady sits a middle-aged man in a navy suit talking about sales of something into his posh silver phone. I can smell his aftershave from here and he has the look of a self-assured businessman about him.
Opposite me sits someone completely different. He’s young; I’d hazard a guess at seventeen of eighteen, and is possibly the most beautiful person I’ve seen in my life. He has pale, flawless skin and russet brown hair that is flicked up slightly at the sides and back and styled into a long fringe at the front.
The one time he looked up at me I noticed that his eyes were a deep, warm chocolate brown colour, even darker than his hair, that I could happily look into for hours on end.
He’s wearing dark blue skinny jeans, a bright purple hoodie and a T-shirt underneath with the logo ‘Meat Sucks!’ on. He’s also wearing a few thin, black wristbands on his right arm that shake with the movement of the train.
His face is long and slender with subtly prominent cheekbones and perfectly sculpted dark eyebrows. His long fingers are wrapped around a small, black MP3 player, which he constantly turns over. I can hear the metallic sounds of his music over the constant thrum of the train.
It’s not like I’m attracted to him, I’m more in awe of his appearance than anything else. He must be a fashionable London kid, whereas I’m just some misfit tourist with my boring clothes and features.
Now I feel guilty for describing this guy in such detail. I’m thinking of Julian now, a huge image of him taking up all the space inside my head.
I’m taking in every detail, remembering him with all of my senses. His tanned, smooth skin. His mellow, tropical blue eyes. His long, curly, honey brown hair. His supple, full lips.
His lips pressed against mine.
My fingers running through his soft hair.
His bare skin touching mine.
Julian.
Now I couldn’t care less about the amazing guy sitting opposite me. All I want is Julian. I know that these two weeks will be the longest of my life, because he won’t be there.
Now the train is slowing to a halt and my stop has been announced. The guy opposite me is also getting ready to move. So he is a London kid, just like I imagined.
I wonder if my dad will be waiting at the platform? Even after all this preparation time, I still don’t feel ready to see him again.
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Sorry it's taken so long. I haven't had time to write lately >,>I spent a lot of time on description in this chapter because I don't think I describe things enough. I'll try to more in future chapters :D