Free Diary of a Crush: Kiss and Make Up by Sarra Manning

for my key. ‘You make me feel like I’m completely worthless.’
    Dylan and I locked eyes and then he held out his arms and I stumbled into his embrace. It had been so long that I’d almost forgotten how good it felt when he held me and how his kisses were another reason for living.
    But all too quickly Dylan was backing away from me. He ran a finger down the side of my face. ‘Keep away from Carter, Edie, he’s bad news.’ Then he turned and walked away.
    If I think about this any more, my head might explode.
     
23rd February
    Neither of them have called. Why am I even surprised?
     
28th February
    Went to see a band with Poppy. We were talking about our chef, Italian Tony, and whether he was actually Italian or just had a speech impediment, when I looked up and saw Carter at the bar.
    ‘Who’s that?’ asked Poppy.
    I managed to tear my eyes away. ‘Some boy who’s been trying to mess with my head.’
    Poppy rolled her eyes and gave me a nudge. ‘Oh, Edie, you can be so melodramatic sometimes.’
    I couldn’t concentrate on the band or their foxy singer, it was as if Carter had a special Edie radar fitted.
    I managed to shimmy subtly in his direction but he didn’t say hello or acknowledge me in any way. I so don’t need to start getting obsessed with another boy.
     
3rd March
    Nat had big news when I met him for lunch today. Seems like Dylan and Veronique had a furious row on Saturday night about a backdrop he’d painted for one of her stupid Performance Art pieces and now they’re not talking. Hah!
     
5th March
    Dylan came into the café today and asked me what I was doing tonight! I was like, ‘Oh so you’ve remembered that I exist then?’ He gave me one of his looks and it had been so long since he’d arched an eyebrow in my direction and given me one of his slow-simmer smiles that I arranged to hang out with him tonight. That’s how he phrased it; ‘So do you wanna hang out after work?’
    I’m so bloody happy that he’s talking to me and he wants to spend time with me, that I’m not thinking rationally at all. ’Cause am I like just being really sad and taking after my glamorous Aunt Glo who reads books with titles like
Women Who Love Too Much
? Maybe I should be stronger and not so much of a pushover. Y’know, Dylan blows hot and cold and hurts me terribly on a weekly basis and then as soon as he crooks a finger, I come running.
    Not only that, I have a sneaking suspicion I’m totally mixing my metaphors.
     
5th March (but later)
    It was so near to being a proper date that I thought I might just as well call it one. I got home, had a thirty-second shower and threw every item of clothing I had onto the floor before settling for a vintage flowery dress, my motorcycle boots and a headscarf/pigtails combo. Well, it’s a look.
    And Dylan was wearing
his
motorcycle boots, jeans and one of his really dodgy second-hand shirts. This one was cream with little pink stripes running down it. God, I don’t know where he finds them. I think all the little old ladies who work in the local charity shops must put them to one side for him. ‘
What a revolting garment, Gladys. That lanky boy with the scruffy hair is bound to buy it, why don’t you mark it up to a fiver
?
’
    Dylan always sees right inside me, no matter how much bullshit I come up with. I ended up confessing how sad I was that me and Shona had drifted apart and how I felt like, apart from Nat and maybe Poppy, I didn’t have any real friends any more.
    We tried really hard not to talk about Veronique but Dylan made this snarky remark about how nice it was to go out with a girl who didn’t expect him to pay for every round. I shouldn’t have felt ridiculously pleased, but I did.
    We had a few drinks in the pub and Dylan wanted to go to this new Sixties garage night at a club in town. It was, like, we couldn’t say what we really wanted to say, which was that neither of us wanted to go home just yet. So we skirted round it with this