I felt her eyes on me, and my chest felt all tight, and I was thinking: Why are you giving me such a well-considered gift when I’ve been ignoring you because I’m trying so hard to forget you ever happened?

I was just like: “Thank you.” But it came out all shaky and pathetic.

I was dying to read her card, but I waited for half an hour and then stuffed it into my trousers and went into the toilet.

I sat down and ripped open the envelope.

It looked more like a Valentine’s card than a birthday card, because it had just one red heart on it.

Mine almost stopped.

Dear Phoebe,

Happy birthday. I hope sixteen is everything you want it to be and more.

I’m sorry for kissing you without asking you first, and for assuming it was something you wanted, too. I must have misinterpreted things.

I hope we can be friends.

Love, Emma

x

I tucked the card back into my jeans, washed my shaking hands (even though I never actually went to the toilet…), and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I was just like: What are you doing? Because Kate’s right, I’m not a coward. And so before I could rethink anything, I walked out of the toilet and straight up to Emma, and I was like: “Please can you come with me for a sec?”

I went out into the shop and into the changing cubicle.

Emma came in behind me.

I pulled the curtain shut, and suddenly it felt like there was only the two of us, and we were on an interstellar mission into the future, and the only air we could breathe was between us, because everything else was the infinite vacuum of space.

For a moment, I just looked at her, and it felt like I was seeing her for the very first time.

She smelled of raspberries.

Her cheeks were flushed, and she was biting her lip, and I got all confused for a moment because her eyes weren’t blue, but pitch-black, and I’d forgotten what that meant, but then I was like: Okay, Phoebe, go!

Me: It’s not that I didn’t want it.

Emma:…

Me: The kiss.

Emma:…

Me: I tried to not want it.

Emma (looking confused):…

Me: Because it made me feel physically sick.

Emma: Oh my God.

Me: No, not like that. Obviously not like that. No, not like … that. Obviously. What I mean is … I … you … this … we …

And then I was just like: For fuck’s sake, Phoebe! Because I literally couldn’t remember words, and Emma looked at me the way you look at your phone when it’s suddenly stopped working.