i’vealwayslovedstories,anddreamtofwhatcouldhappenifiwasthecharacterswhoinspiremyimagination.butgettingwhatyouwantcansometimesbedangerous.youmightbetrappedinaworldoffascinationandlosethesightofthereality.however,i’mnotgoingtoletthisbeareasonforustoduckoutofthethingswelove.takethechanceandindulgeyourselfwithaboxofferrerorocher.weallwanttohidebehindtheveil,awayfromthecrowdsoncewegethurt,butthebottomlineis:wecan’t.it’sassimpleasthat.
it’safreezingcoldnightinlatenovember,andbenjaminandiwerestandingoutsidethestudentunion,waitingfortheuniversitycoach.
“it’sgoingtowonderful,emma.”hesays.
iliftedmyheadandforcedasmile,withoutthinkingtoomuch:“yes,it’sgoingtobeamazing.”
it’sgoingtobeamazingifmyeyesweren’tsowateryicouldbarelyseehisfaceandmyfacewasn’tsonumbicanhardlyfeelmyselfanymore.
“look,”hetriedwarmmeupbywrappinghisarmsaroundme,“you’lldojustfine,anddon’tworryiwon’tleaveyouonyourown,ok?we’llstayforafewdrinksandgo,ipromise”
ipromise.hepromisedhewouldletmeoffthehookwiththisballthing;hepromisediwouldn’thavetospend50poundsfortheprivilegeofpretendingtobeahighclassmember;hepromisediwouldn’thavetowearapairofshoesthatmakemetripoverevery5minutes.iclutchedhishandandkisshispalmwhileisightomyselfsecretly.
iknowit’sacompleteclichétobechickenedoutofaformalballwhileyourboyfriendisthespotofattentionandyoulookjustlikeabigfatloserstandingnexttohim.buti’mtellingyou,it’snotsomuchaclichéwhenthisballwastobeheldinhiltonhotel.yes,thehiltonhotel.tomakemattersworse,itwillbepackedwithloadsofsmartlydressed,well-spokendecentpeople.wheniencounteredsomeoftheminthepast,icouldn’thelpbutquestiontheirtrueselfinmymind:creepsdon’tscareme,it’stheso-calleddecentguys,theygotochurchanddovolunteerwork,butnobodyknowswhattheyplayinside.theyarethepeoplewhoscaremethemost.