Follow the Sparks

Chapter One

Chapter One

With all the emotions human beings have the capability of feeling, the highs of love and happiness, and the lows of hate and jealousy, one of the most powerful emotions of them all is regret.

Regret. It’s the one that keeps you awake at night, in the darkness, the one which haunts you with words you should have said, things you should have done, chances and opportunities missed. It’s the one which doesn’t take much. It’s the curse of the indecisive, the shy, fated to ever question their actions, looking back with a sigh and wistful daydreams of the could have beens, the should have beens.

And yet it is unavoidable. No matter how hard you try to live your life without the pressure of potential regrets, they sneak up on you. Most often when you’re not looking.

But sometimes, the knowledge you’ll regret not doing something isn’t enough to make you do it. Sometimes fear gets in the way, sometimes it’s hope. Fear that you’ll do it wrong. Hope that someone else will do it for you.

My regrets could fill a whole book. There were words I should have said, things I should have done, chances and opportunities I missed. But none of them haunted me like this one. None of them tortured me in the very darkest depths of the night as I lay alone in bed quite like this one. My biggest regret? Not following my heart. Not following the sparks.

*

I blame rom coms for my ridiculously, stupidly, high expectations of men.

It’s always the way. They assume that girls and boys will just fall in love without any hurdles that can’t be overcome by just ‘believing in yourself.’ Any girl who falls for her best friend will definitely end up with them, or will at least find someone who suits them even better.

But in real life, it’s never that easy. In real life, there are the loud, beautiful girls who overshadow those girls who aren’t so confident. And, funnily enough, the latter aren’t just concealing their beauty with a pair of frumpy glasses, which, when removed will reveal someone completely stunning. Even the longest of crushes don’t always result in people falling for each other. Life just isn’t so permanently lucky.

I should know. I’ve been in love with my best friend for about a year and a half.

It was a warm summer’s evening when I realised I’d fallen for Teddy. It was Year Ten, just after we’d had our last day of school for the year, and we were at a party in some rich person’s field. While everyone danced to the music and socialised, he’d been manning the barbecue, expertly flipping burgers and sausages and then piling them onto a plate where I stuffed them into rolls. We were the dream team.

I remember noticing how attractive he looked in the summer sun. The sunlight was lighting his features in a golden orange haze, throwing shadows back from his long eyelashes. His t-shirt pulled tightly across the shoulders when he moved in a certain way, revealing finely toned muscles. A little smear of charcoal grazed across one cheek, marring the beauty of his perfect features, and yet it suited him. He looked gorgeous.

To be honest, I’d thought he was attractive for a lot longer than that. Having grown up together, it had taken me a while to realise that he’d actually blossomed into someone with features every girl swooned over, and a body models would have envied, but, when I did, it didn’t really change things too much. I wasn’t interested in boys and boyfriends, I didn’t think of Teddy like that.

But that day, when all the food was cooked, and we both went and flung ourselves down onto a hay bale, leaning back in the warm sun, our bodies casting long, spindly shadows out behinds us, something changed.