Page 6 of Do You Ship It

I am a bundle of nervous energy on Wednesday in media class. It’s my last lesson of the day, so I’ll be straight from here to the bus to Jake’s house for some episodes of Of Wrath and Rune . I decided not to watch them in advance, which suddenly feels like a bad idea. I don’t want to make an idiot of myself in front of him, not when it’s something he loves so much.

It really has come to something, when ‘making an idiot of myself’ is not fully understanding one of three magic systems (‘magick’, apparently, if Discord is anything to go by) and not going out in public wearing a wig and elf ears.

But these are the lengths we go to for love; and romance is all about grand gestures.

Daphne notices I’m all worked up, because in the middle of class she nudges me in the side and whispers, ‘What’s got into you? It’s like you downed a can of Red Bull! You haven’t stopped jiggling once.’

‘I … I sort of have a … a bit of a date tonight,’ I blurt, too fraught and excited to think up a white lie. Daphne gasps, eyes brightening, and I get a surge of panic, remembering too late about how I didn’t want this getting back to Evie and possibly then to Jake. ‘Sort of. Not really. Maybe?’

‘You don’t know if it’s a date?’

I shake my head.

‘Well, did he ask you? Is he taking you out somewhere?’

‘It’s … Um, I don’t know. He’s a friend, so it’s a bit complicated. I’m just going to his house to hang out for a bit.’

Daphne’s mouth widens in a grin, and I relax a bit to see her instantly sharing in my excitement. ‘Are his parents going to be there?’

I shrug. ‘I think they might still be at work? I’m not sure.’

‘If they’re not, it’s definitely a date.’

‘Right. And if they are?’

She ponders this for a minute. I know from her social media that she had a boyfriend throughout all of Year 9 and into Year 10, and then she’s mentioned a guy she dated over the summer, so Daphne is definitely more worldly when it comes to this sort of thing than I am. I’ll take any advice she wants to give.

‘I think it still could be … but maybe don’t make too much of a move – let him come to you. You don’t want to do like Cher in Clueless and fall off the bed just trying to flip your hair!’

The two of us giggle, and our teacher shushes us and throws a warning look our way. We return to our notes for a few minutes in silence before I risk whispering, ‘I love that movie.’

‘Me too! It’s one of my favourites. I love those old romcoms.’

I feel a bit lighter, a bit more confident, to hear it. At least a shared love of a movie genre is some good ground to bond over, if all else fails.

I add, ‘Seriously, though, I haven’t even thought about if we go up to his room …’

Which is true; I hadn’t. I’ve been in Jake’s room plenty of times before when we’ve hung out, but I haven’t seen his bedroom in the new house. When we hung out this summer, it was mainly in his garden or the ‘orangery’ (which seems just like any old conservatory, if you ask me) or in town. And if this is a bit more of a date – if it’s part of us growing closer and taking our friendship to a different level …

Well, that changes things.

‘Definitely let him make the first move,’ Daphne tells me, more authoritatively now. ‘Especially since we don’t know if it’s really a date or not yet. You don’t want to make it awkward. But you just have to make sure you’re open , you know?’

I’m so alarmed by the way she says it that all I can do is blurt, ‘What, like …?’ And part my legs wide under the table, pulling a horrified face. I’m not going there to try and have sex with him! I haven’t even kissed him! She can’t honestly be suggesting …?

Daphne squeals with laughter so suddenly that she snorts when she tries to smother the sound and ends up gasping for breath. A tear escapes her eye and she swipes it away. I sit there and watch, confused and embarrassed, feeling like I’ve just made a complete fool of myself – that she won’t want to bother with me if I don’t know how to act in a guy’s bedroom on a maybe-date.

‘ Daphne ,’ barks our teacher. ‘If you cannot control yourself, I will have to ask you to leave my classroom. I expect better from my students.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ she wheezes, her pale cheeks flushed an almost iridescent shade of pink. She refuses to look at me for several minutes, until she’s sure she won’t laugh again. She ends up hissing out of the side of her mouth, ‘Cerys, you kill me. You’re hilarious. Obviously that’s not what I meant, but –’ She throws her hand up in front of her face to block me out, even as her shoulders shake with barely-contained laughter.

Oh, thank God. She doesn’t think I’m a boring old prude! She just thought I was making a joke.

She thinks I’m hilarious !

I warm with pride, bottling it up to remember next time I’m not sure if I fit in with this new group of friends, and only once the bell rings and we’re out of class does Daphne carry on our conversation. She follows me to the loos, where I hoist my bag up on to the sinks to rummage through for the make-up I brought with me. I want to glam myself up a little bit in case it is more of a date, and to send the right sort of signals to Jake, but obviously can’t go overboard when we are, really, just hanging out to watch TV.

My hands brush over the T-shirt bundled up in my bag. Forest green, with a shimmery pattern and slogan printed on it. I thought the fandom T-shirt Jake gifted me would be perfect to wear tonight. He’d think it was a joke before he thought it was try-hard, but I’m really hoping it’ll drive home my dedication to this – to him .

But Daphne is right there, and –

‘Ooh, is that what you’re wearing?’

She’s pulling it out of my bag before I can protest, and my cheeks burn. Her face creases in confusion as she studies the ‘BE YE A RASCAL, ROACH?’ motif, and I’m so mortified I want the ground to swallow me whole.

‘Er,’ she says, and I feel our tenuous friendship slipping away.

I blurt, ‘My friend – this guy, tonight – bought it for me. It’s, like, a gag gift, you know? Some weird in-joke …’

She gasps, enthralled. ‘ He got it for you? Oh my gosh, you have to wear it! And the colour is so perfect with your eyes.’ She holds it up against me, grinning. ‘It really makes them pop! I bet he totally knew that when he bought it, too. So cute!’

She pushes me towards a toilet cubicle to go change, and I do, fussing with how the T-shirt sits as I emerge. Daphne helps direct me to tuck it in just so, giving my straight frame at least the illusion of a more defined waist. The boxy fit makes my chest look even flatter than usual, but I bite my tongue before humiliating myself further and asking Daphne if she thinks I should stuff my bra. (Are we still doing that?)

As I bundle my jumper into my bag and go back to touching up my make-up, Daphne’s already chattering away again.

‘You have to just put out the right vibes, let him know you’re available and interested, that’s all! Not –’ Daphne throws her legs wide and fans her elegant long fingers around her crotch and throws in a few thrusts for good measure, making me laugh this time. ‘You know, angle your body towards him, draw attention to your mouth or your hair, mirror his body language, try keep your hand there for him to hold but not so it looks like that’s what you’re angling for, if he isn’t going to.’

‘Got it,’ I say, a bit relieved when these are all the sort of tips I’ve already accumulated from years of watching romcoms. It’s nothing new, outlandish, or extreme. And to hear more experienced Daphne back up my fictional education is reassuring, too.

‘Can I do your lips for you?’ she asks.

‘Do you – d’you mind?’

Excited, she nods and plonks her own bag down, rummaging through for lipliner and a thick, sticky gloss to paint my lips with.

Surely if anything is going to solidify a friendship, it’s this? Gossiping about maybe-dates, doing each other’s make-up. And Daphne’s make-up always looks so good.

I can’t wait for Jake to see my new-and-improved look.

‘There! OMG, you look stunning !’ Daphne pops the lipgloss applicator back into the tube and I turn towards the mirror, bursting to see the transformation, how she’ll have accentuated my lips and made me look irresistible and …

Oh.

Hmm.

I must stare a beat too long, because I swear Daphne’s face falls a little bit in the reflection of the mirror. I say quickly, ‘I love it! Thank you! This is perfect!’

I’m not sure ‘perfect’ is really the word, though … My mouth definitely looks bigger and poutier than normal, but it also looks more like I got stung by a bee and it got infected than the dramatic, pretty look it is on Daphne. She hasn’t done anything different or wrong as far as I can tell, but the colour doesn’t seem quite right for my freckled skin and fair hair, and I’m forced to admit that my features just can’t carry off this kind of look.

I finish applying some fresh blush and highlighter, and then I’m ready to go, promising Daphne that I’ll text her as soon as I’m home later to let her know how everything went, and promising a second, in-person debrief at Costa tomorrow on the way to college.

I glance at my reflection in the bus window, and lift my chin. I can be the kind of girl who carries this look; I can be bold and pretty and confident like them.

And, well, if nothing else – it’ll definitely draw Jake’s attention and hopefully, finally, get me a kiss.