I speed walk through the streets, my dress riding up as I do, but I don’t let it slow me down. My sisters sent me a ticket to Parc Guell in anticipation of my grand finale. It came with a note.
Congrats on your 80th date, Squeak. Enjoy your strut on us xx
It’s for today at five and, according to what I’ve read online, they’re pretty strict about arriving at your given time. It’s currently 4.53, so I’m hoping their grace period extends to at least fifteen minutes.
I give a sharp intake of breath as I arrive at the entrance and take it in, in all its grand, sweeping beauty. I think of every time my sisters and I sat in front of the TV, singing along and watching as the Cheetah Girls pranced through this exact park. How we’d memorise the choreography, fight over who got to be Galleria, and make plans to go back to Barcelona together one day. The part by the steps of Park Guell was always my favouriteas I loved the way the mosaics stood out against the palm trees. Though they’re not here today, it feels like there is a part of them with me, considering they bought me the ticket.
I take my first selfie at the entrance, sending it through to them to an immediate slew of excited reactions.
SARA:Have fun, chick xx
I smile at her message.
ME:I’ll do my best, missing you though.
PAIGE:You’ve only got 10 days left, Squeak! Put your phone down and enjoy!
I take her advice, tucking it into my bumbag and starting to wander. I whack my headphones on and listen to the soundtrack ofThe Cheetah Girls 2as I amble across the beautifully stone-lined bridge.
Thirty minutes pass and I’m so deep into the music and the views that I don’t notice the man behind me. It takes him creeping closer, reaching for my shoulder and tapping me twice before I jolt back to life and turn around to face him.
My skin grows cold, as does my blood as I meet his face, and all of a sudden everything around me goes mute. Blood rushes in my ears and the park starts to spin.
After two months, there he is.
Noah Davidson.
. . .an admission
I imagined what it would be like to see Noah again in the depths of my late-night dreams. He’d pull me into his arms, I’d grab his face and we’d start the rest of our lives the way that we meant to go on.
But here we are, in Park Guell, together once again, and that dream scenario feels a lot more like a slap in the face. His smile fades as he makes out my features, scrunched tightly into a ball of rage.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.
His eyes dip. ‘Your sisters got me a ticket. I came to find you.’
I can’t fathom the words. I’m already too busy trying to process the fact that he’s standing in front of me in the flesh.
He throws his arms around me in a desperate, pleading embrace, squeezing me closer as he sways from side to side. My brain dizzies as he holds me, the all too familiar hit of his cologne flying straight to my stomach and making it upturn.
‘You’re supposed to be in Madrid, celebrating your birthday with your girlfriend,’ I say, flummoxed.
He pulls back from the hug, holding my arms still as he looks me over gravely.
‘I was. But I couldn’t be. Not without you.’ His eyes dip again as he thinks back to it. ‘El threw me this big surprise party with a bunch of my friends from home, and loads of people we’d travelled with, and I looked around the room, and I searched for your face, and I realised pretty quickly that you weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?’
His face melts into anguish as his sombre eyes meet mine. My breath hitches at the content.
‘I was busy,’ I say.
He reads right through me. ‘Bullshit. Friends make the time.’
‘Well, maybe we’re not friends,’ I say.
If I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t think it was ever friendly for me. I felt drawn to him from the very moment we met; I just wasn’t ready to come to terms with why that was.
My voice is shaking, but it’s about time I put an end to all this, once and for all. ‘I can’t do it, Noah, this – us – it’s all too much. I can’t be friends with you.’
