Free Love and Chaos by Gemma Burgess Page A

me.…
    “Sorry,” whispers Julia. “I was only messing around.”
    I turn to her and smile. Man, she’s a nice person. “It’s okay,” I say. And all of a sudden, it is. Just like Vic said: it happened, now it’s in the past. I have to let it go. Or at least try.
    Coco skips up next to us. “Why did we leave? I liked them!”
    “You liked the fact that they were male, Coco. Aim higher,” says Julia.
    “Harsh,” I say, seeing Coco’s face fall, before she plasters on her usual “everything’s great!” smile.
    “Is it? I don’t mean to be harsh. Coco, honey, next time you decide you truly like someone, I swear we will all be one hundred percent behind you. Right, Angie?”
    “For sure,” I say. “I’ll get his name printed on a T-shirt with an ‘I heart’ in front of it.”
    Coco is trying to act flippant. “Well, I will never meet anyone. I work in a preschool. My job is the least guy-friendly job in the world.”
    “What about all those hot dads?” Pia finally tunes in to the conversation, though she’s still texting someone. Aidan, I bet.
    “Are you serious ? They’re old. And married.”
    “Can you imagine being a wife and having, like, children?” says Julia. “Right now I think it would be easier to learn Russian.”
    “I could learn Russian in six weeks if I tried hard enough,” I say. “But find a dude who might like me for me in six weeks? Not a chance.”
    “Aw, do you have low self-esteem?” Julia pulls my ponytail affectionately.
    “No, I really don’t,” I say. “I just know what guys see in me. And it’s never … me.”
    Julia is quiet for a moment, suddenly serious. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes I would kick a puppy just to have an interesting conversation with a good-looking guy who also happened to find me attractive.”
    We stroll along in silence, Julia’s words echoing in my head.
    An interesting conversation with a guy.
    You know, I can’t even remember the last time I actually talked to a guy. Like, really talked .
    Take any of the guys I’ve dated (please! Boom, tish ). Mani, Marc, Jessop, Hugh, the guys I met at college, in bars, on vacation … My entire life, it’s always the same.
    They talk, I listen. They joke, I smirk. I never reveal anything about myself, I never trust them enough to show them who I really am or how I really feel, so it’s just chase, flirt, party … and then sex. Which is always shit, anyway, the kind of sex where afterward I feel inexplicably like crying, and I go to the bathroom alone and look in the mirror and wonder what the hell I’m doing and why I feel empty inside. (Urgh, sorry. Drama, I know. But it’s true.)
    And then in the morning I always wake up next to them and feel more alone than ever. But I stick around in the hope that next time, they’ll try to see past the tough shell I’ve built over the years. That they’ll suddenly know me, and I’d understand them and feel a connection. A real connection.
    It never happens, of course. Why would a guy bother to get to know me? So I act flippant and cool and tough, and eventually they dump me, and I never hear from them again. They even defriend me on Facebook. Like there is no point in keeping in touch. Like I am disposable.
    No wonder I’ve always liked that moment before the first kiss so much. The prekiss. That is the moment when there is still a chance that this time, it will mean something. Like I might meet someone worth trusting, someone to whom I can show my true self. Like there might be a happy ending.
    Never again. Never, ever again. I’m staying single. Forever. I’m staying away from all dudes. Especially rich kids and liars.
    And I’m going to get a job in fashion.

 
    CHAPTER 12
    I’m never going to get a job in fashion.
    In the past week, I’ve tried everything. I’ve scoured WWD, talked to the few recruitment agencies that specialize in fashion, searched Craigslist and every fashion website and blog. I e-mailed my resume to