The Budding Roses

AJ

Saturday 23rd October
'I miss him so much,' Natasha wailed, 'a week is such a long time.'
I'm certain that she says these things just to torture me, but do I really need to remind her that at least she still has a boyfriend, (albeit one half of an M&M), and that my decidedly more charismatic boyfriend has dumped me, (okay I know I dumped him, but that's just being particular), and then I caught him snogging some total wench, and so if anything, I should really be the one crying here, for I am the one feeling true heartache. But stalwart that I am, I just get on with it, there's to be no more crying for me; I wouldn't want to risk being called miserable for starters.
Maybe I've just hardened? It tells in my eyes which now sit still, like two lichen covered rocks clinging to a gale stricken mountainside.
But Natasha really does love creating a fuss, and I doubt that she and Matt have even seen each other in the past fortnight, so I fail to understand how one more week is going to make a difference to anything.
Natasha, her family and I are headed to the luxury of a tropical break in Lanzarote. My invitation to which has to be the most looney tune decision ever, since wouldn't she much prefer to take that uber cool sparkly auraed waif they call Perfect Fliss? But oh no, she's insistent that I'm the only one she wishes to accompany her on such an important trip.
'You know how my mum adores you,' she had gushed, 'she keeps commenting on how much more talkative you are these days, now that you've come out of your shell and stopped with all that depression. Plus it's too late to get a refund.'

Monday 25th October
Natasha is still maudlin within a cloak of mawkishness, and so I have left her listening to her sickeningly vapid music. But golly what goodness she's missing out on, for this heat is perfection and it brings with it clarity, so good that I'm beginning to wonder what I ever saw in Harry Styles and his stupid haircut.
Things are different now, I'm free again, and so suited are we, the sun and I, that I'm thinking I should move here. I could get a job in a bar and spend my days reading and sunbathing, and there would be no more anxieties, nothing to worry about, just me, the sun and peace.

Tuesday 26th October
'I've found us dates for tonight,' Natasha bounded in from her trip to the shop, full of the delights of reinvigoration.
'What about Matt?'
'Oh never mind him. Do you remember the guy with the blonde hair that we met last night, the one that looked like David Beckham?' How could I forget;
'Nice hair!' She had yelled at the two mismatched boys who were minding their own business on the other side of the road, and only someone as moronic as Natasha could claim that the tall one bore any resemblance to David.
'I love your hair,' she had persisted, 'where did you get it cut; Vidal's?' Gag!
'Well I just bumped in to him and his friend, the shorter one, and I've arranged for us to meet them at 8pm outside reception, and just so you know I've got first dibs on AJ; he's hot and I saw him first, plus you look way better with short guys than I do.'

Later
Natasha's mood grows increasingly thunderous, likely because after only half an hour spent with 'AJ' and 'Little Swiss' it transpired that they too had made a prior agreement regarding their choice of female for the evening, and unfortunately for both Natasha and I this was not in accordance with her selection. Well boo hoo Natasha, but don't I get a say in deciding the outcome of this cattle market line up?
I don't even know what her problem is since Little Swiss is far more handsome than AJ, and if she's that affected by it all then she can do me a favour and distract his grubby hands from making advances in my direction.
'You're such a bad friend Simone,' Natasha sought her revenge, 'you need to get your own style; it's not cool to keep copying me.' I studied my turquoise boob tube, noticing that oh snap, Natasha had also selected to wear the same top.
'Sorry, I didn't know you had it, but anyway it's not such a crime is it?'
'It wouldn't be if this was the first time it had happened, but it's not; you're turning in to such a copy cat, and nobody likes a copy cat.'
'Let's get a giant cocktail,' She retreated.
'But you know how badly spirits affect me,' I worried, 'you remember what happened at Harry's party?'
'I've got an idea Simone, why don't you stop being so uptight all the time and just enjoy yourself?'
As the intoxication of the alcohol infiltrated my blood stream I stared at AJ who was now reclined at the head of a sun lounger, whilst I sprawled across the length of it, my legs hung across his waist.
Natasha was right, his hair did look like David Beckham's, in fact quite a lot of him looked like David Beckham, all floppy blondeness, moving like a sand dune in the wind, and grinning good looks. I was confused why I had initially dismissed him so readily.
'AJ doesn't just look like David Beckham,' Little Swiss boasted, 'he's a footballer too.' If only my best friend would sing so proudly about my talents.
Not bothering to fight his temptation AJ began to lightly stroke his fingers along the inside of my thighs. Unusually I didn't fight the delight but instead embraced the rarity of the arousal, letting the sensation of each stroke seduce me, my eyes now hot from staring at the cloud of sparkles which danced above me, giddy like a sherbet fountain frothing in to the water. I was starting to sting, to ache. It hurt to be touched. Oh in heavens name please don't let it stop.

Too late
I've just had sex. At least I think I did. I mean I'm sure it went in. There was definitely something in the area. Maybe? Alas we can conclude that the earth did not move. I'm not even sure that I did, which is perhaps not my best selling point?
The truth is that it was awful. It's really not possible to put a more positive a spin on the whole act, and I've quickly learned that getting off with a boy just because he has shapely forearms is not the most sensible of reasons. It's even less of a good idea to go on and have sex with him. Sex should be with someone you love, that's what Just Seventeen has been telling me for years. So why didn't I listen? And if it can't be with someone you love, then at the very least, it certainly should not be with someone based solely on the shape of their forearm; because as I have now discovered, this is in no way indicative of what the shape of his willy will be.
Not that there was anything wrong with it, per se, it's just that it was so huge, curling up towards his navel like a massive banana. I'm still utterly dumb founded that AJ could bare such a thing, but above all I was terrified at the prospect of what he intended to do with it. Maybe I could distract any further progress by just kissing him, for he did seem to be very fond of the little snake kisses he kept giving me, darting his tongue in and out of my mouth. At least it wasn't so wet, just a bit too reptilian like.
Oh no, AJ pushed his finger inside me. I winced, nearly winded, but good grief, actual intimate contact had just been made. I had crossed the point of no return, and so I rationalised that I might as well just do it already, get the whole ghastly thing over and done with.
But after ten minutes of trying and failing, and thinking that maybe, yes this is it, yes, pretend this is wonderful, if I believe it then maybe it will actually happen, we both concluded that it was plenty time for bed, and so left our peculiar fleshy position, preferring to just lay there, next to each other, like a pair of newly timbered logs. In fact we weren't actually next to each other, since you could easily fit a small child in the space between us; such an immediate to contrast to our previous close proximity. But for now we both required a boundary of personal space to be re-established, that way, at least, we didn't have to think any more about what did or didn't just happen.
AJ snorted, so easily falling in to the freedom of slumber, but I failed to sleep, instead just lying there counting, drawing patterns in my mind, left, right, up, down, all the time trying so hard to fight it, that familiar feeling, the tightening of my chest, the shallowness of my breathing. Why can't I just fall asleep like a normal person and have it be morning already? But I was unable to restrain my distaste at the abhorrence of the night's activities any longer, and as is such a common reaction now, I ran to the bathroom, my vomit spilling in to its favourite place, my repulsion erupting and disposing itself within the u-bend.
'Are you okay?' My distress had roused AJ.
'I need to go home now, please.'
Despite the awkwardness of the previous ten minutes, AJ was now keen to savour our final moments together. Standing on my tip toes, in that most sordid of sunrises, he leaned down to kiss me. Once again the tiny snake persisted on its slow journey in and out of my mouth, whilst I prayed that it couldn't taste the repugnant remnants of the puke which lined my lips.
'Watch that!' AJ diverted me from standing in a pool of vomit which decorated the ground next to my footstep. At least someone else had suffered the same misfortune as me.
'It was nice to meet you.' As we neared the entrance of the hotel lobby, with Swiss and Natasha now in sight, AJ saw to it that the mood become more formalised. 'I'd give you my number but I don't have anywhere to write it down.' Of course you don't. 'I'll see you later then,' he continued with his monotone script ,as we hugged, embarrassed.
'Okay, bye then,' I mouthed.
'Thanks for leaving me,' Natasha squawked, as we headed to our room.
'I'm going to bed; I'm exhausted,' I ignored her antagonistic tones, too tired to indulge her in the argument she so clearly desired.

Thursday 28th October
'Holiday romances are just that Simone. They end, so get over it.'
If only Natasha was right, if only I was pining for the passing of my lost love with AJ. Why she'd be far more sympathetic if she knew the truth, what a harrowing experience it's been, that I'm drowning in nausea, eager to forget about last night, and that the exhilaration of freedom I'd felt upon our arrival has now been trodden into the sand, leaving me crawling once more, just like at home.
I've realised that there is no escaping life no matter where I am or who I'm with. Even the heat, once so welcome, now hates me. It clings to my skin, making it itch. I can't stop scratching at it; maybe I'm allergic to this foreign environment and my body is screaming for soothing relief from the cool of home.
I can't stop thinking that it was such an idiotic thing to have just done it with AJ like that, all on a whim, without even thinking about it, when I wouldn't even do it with Harry, despite having known him my entire life. But I guess that's what the heat does to you, it makes you crazy, it makes you abandon all of the restrictions of home.