And It All Comes Down To You

  And It All Comes Down To You

  And It All Comes Down To You © Kyra Lennon 2015

  Published worldwide 2015 © Kyra Lennon

  All rights reserved in all media. This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  All characters and events featured in this book are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any person, organisation, place or thing is purely coincidental and completely unintentional.

  For unwittingly leading me to the best book title ever, and

  making me laugh more than anyone I know.

  Much love,

  Miss Not A Proper Author ;) xx

  Prologue

  “Back up for one second!” Lydia held up her hands, her eyes wide as the pillow that had rested on her lap slipped off and thumped on the floor with her shock. “Logan asked you on a road trip?”

  A laugh burst out of my mouth at my best friend’s words. A giddy, ‘Yeah, I can’t believe it either’ kind of laugh born from having waited for what felt like a million years for this to happen.

  This was not such a big deal. Not to a normal, well-adjusted woman, but I was a teenager in the body of a twenty-two-year-old.

  I guess that’s what happens when you fall for someone you knew when you were young. You regress. You go back to that magical time when everything is new and you do everything for the first time. It’s like stepping through the looking glass and seeing yourself the way you want to be seen. The way you hope you’re seen. You step through, you become that person who looks at the world through enchanted eyes, and you believe in the happy ending again.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Logan asked me on a road trip. And before you say anything else, it’s just a road trip, not a date.”

  Unfortunately.

  I tried to push that thought aside for two reasons. One, I wanted to be able to look Logan in the eye, and if I thought about anything happening between us before we set off in the morning, I wouldn’t manage it. And two, whatever I felt for him had to come second to getting to know him better. Obviously, I knew him, but I needed some confirmation. Confirmation that the image I had of him was real, and not just a stitched together version of what I wanted him to be.

  “Tell me again what this trip is for?” Lydia asked, kindly steering the conversation in a less nerve-tingling direction.

  “It’s a music thing. An outdoor festival he has tickets for. It starts late afternoon and goes on through the evening. We’re driving back tomorrow night.”

  Lydia chuckled as if this was about to be the start of everything I’d ever wanted, and I whipped my own pillow out from behind me and took a swing at her, causing her to laugh harder as she tipped over onto her side. “Oh, come on! You have to see the brilliant side of this. This is huge.”

  With a groan I lay back on the bed, covering my face with my hands. “I know. And, believe me, after giving up on the idea of ever seeing him again, this has thrown me a little. A lot.”

  “You should be dancing around the room in celebration right now!”

  “I want to. But, fuck, if this doesn’t scare me.”

  Lydia sat up straight again and peeled my hands from my face so I couldn’t hide my honest reaction from her.

  “Marnie, level with me here. When it comes to Logan, you’ve always been kind of… reserved. I get that you like him. You’ve always liked him. But lately it seems like you feel more than for him than you want to admit.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks because she was right. What she didn’t understand was that I had to be reserved where Logan was concerned. I didn’t want to admit how long I’d lived with him on my mind. Sure, he was my school girl crush – there was barely a person who grew up with us who didn’t know that, except maybe Logan himself. But you’re supposed to get over school girl crushes. They’re supposed to end the moment you walk out of the school gates for the last time and go your separate ways. That never happened. I’d lied to myself that it was nothing for the last few years, because I couldn’t have feelings for him, could I? We rarely even saw each other in person anymore unless we bumped into each other on a night out. It made me crazy. Sometimes I wanted to reach into my phone and drag him through, or scream, “Come on! Just one coffee. Give me an hour. I just want to see you!” I refused to be that girl. The one who begs, demands. The downside of not being that girl was that I became a different girl. One who lived with doubts and insecurities, who constantly lived on the edge of something she couldn’t quite reach.

  “Here’s the thing.” I sighed. “I don’t know the answer to that question. Not really. Yes, I like him, of course I do. But I can’t say anything more than that because I’ve barely spent any time with him. Ever.”

  “So? What about those people who meet online? They fall in love through the powers of Facebook messenger or Skype. Are you saying their feelings aren’t real?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I’m not a person who can confess love for someone without spending a significant amount of time with them. It wouldn’t feel real.”

  “How do you feel when you have been with him?”

  Warmth swept through my body as I considered Lydia’s words. I never had doubts about the answer to this question, only hesitation about confessing.

  “I feel… amazing. Happier. Not in an ‘I need a guy to make me complete’ kind of way. It’s more that everything that’s already good about my life is enhanced. Everything seems brighter, and anything bad that’s happening doesn’t matter as much anymore.” I shook my head again, shrugging off the idiotic girly trance I’d been slipping into. “But I don’t know if that’s enough, and I really don’t know if he feels even slightly the same way about me.” Of if I fully understand how I feel.

  Lydia snorted out a laugh. “You’re the romantic! You know the answer and you know how you feel.”

  The Meeting Stage aka Over My Head

  Breathe, Marnie.

  I stood outside my house, checking my bag one more time to make sure I’d remembered everything I needed for the road trip and festival fun ahead. Mostly my make-up¸ which took up more space than was entirely necessary.

  Logan is going to think I’m ridiculous.

  Ah well, it wasn’t like he was going to rummage through my things. I just needed to not let him see that I was carrying the equivalent of a Boots cosmetics counter in my bag. A girl can never be too prepared, right?

  Okay, maybe she can, but a lame and possibly deluded part of me thought that if I looked decent, with good make-up, and my long, dark hair straightened, maybe…

  Maybe nothing. Stop those thoughts right now.

  Easier said than done. Dammit, I needed this to go well. I needed to calm down, be myself, and figure this out.

  I shuffled my feet, trying to shift some of the adrenaline pumping through my veins while I waited. I didn’t even know what kind of car I was looking out for. Every time another one turned into my street, my heart raced and I tried to look casual, as if I was one of those cool girls who can take things like this in her stride.

  I used to be that girl. I’d lost her somewhere around the age of eighteen. I guess heartbreak can do that to a person. The level of caution when entering, or considering entering, something new gets higher with each terrible experience. Being carefree wasn’t an option anymore. I owed it to myself to guard my already dented heart.

  A blue Renault Clio turned into my street, and this time, my heart rate increase was justified as I spotted Logan in the driver’s seat. His thick blond hair was a little scruffy, probably because he’d just stumbled out of bed and into the car, and the sight of him all tousled caused my breath to catch in my
throat.

  Seriously, breathe.

  Inhaling and exhaling very slowly to blow out the last of my nerves, I gave myself a mini pep talk about how I shouldn’t hang too many – or any – hopes on this road trip then smiled as I walked around the side of the car and opened the passenger door.

  The moment I settled myself in the passenger seat my nerves vanished. Honestly, I was sure ninety percent of my anxiousness came from the belief that Logan wouldn’t show up and I’d be left on the street corner, waiting, like the world’s unluckiest hooker.

  But he did show up.

  “Morning,” I said, brightly. “First stop coffee?”

  Logan chuckled. “Maybe not just yet. But soon.”

  Our first stop wasn’t for two hours, but that was okay with me. The time flew by as Logan and I chatted non-stop. For the whole first part of the journey, I couldn’t help the tiny part of my brain that censored my words before I spoke. Logan was about as laid back as a person could be, and I doubted there was much I could say that would make him wish he’d taken someone else, but my self-consciousness was running the show. It lessened along the way, though, and by the time we reached our stopping point I felt a little less like I was in over my head.

  When we’d got our drinks and I’d had a few sips of the caffeine heaven in my hand, we found a vacant bench outside the service station and sat down, stretching out our legs and enjoying the freedom to move around a little.

  “Early mornings aren’t your thing, are they?” Logan asked, watching me guzzle my latte, an amused grin spreading across his face.

  I shook my head. “Not really. It’s not like I sleep until lunchtime every day, but at the time you picked me up, I’m usually on my second cup of tea, catching up on Facebook in bed. It is Saturday, after all. Besides,” I added with a smirk, “you look pretty relieved to be having coffee too.”

  “Oh, I am. Getting up so early is unheard of for me at the weekend, but when you get the chance to see some great bands, you have to go for it.”

  “Agreed.” A weird rippling sensation in my stomach made me almost drop my drink; he asked me to go with him!! Forcing my dorkiness in check and reminding myself I was an adult and not a fifteen-year-old, I smiled again. “This is going to be a good day.”

  “Anyone you’re particularly looking forward to seeing?”

  I reeled off a few band names then added, “Mostly I’m glad to be doing something other than watching re-runs of Mock The Week on YouTube. You’ve saved me from lazing around and whining about how dull my life is.”

  I gave him a grin over the rim of my coffee cup to cover up the fact that I wasn’t entirely kidding. Mostly I found things to do at the weekends, but for the past few months, there had been a distinct lack of excitement in my world, and the Internet had become my best friend to make up for the fact that most of my real best friends either worked weekends, or had gone over to the dark side, i.e. got married and popped out a couple of kids. Already. I wasn’t against marriage and babies, but I couldn’t see myself doing any of that for at least five years. If not more.

  “What happened to you?” Logan laughed. “Didn’t you used to be a party girl?”

  I cringed a little at his words. A few years ago I may have had a bit of a reputation as a club fiend. Oh, the joys of Facebook and its ability to document all of your moves, even if you weren’t the one posting them. I dreaded to think how many pictures Logan might have seen of me after a few too many vodkas on nights out with friends.

  “Ha!” I said, shaking off the embarrassment. “I used to go out, but not to the extremes of some people. I am looking forward to having a proper drink later though. It’s been forever.”

  “Wait.” Logan faked a look of horror, his eyes widening. “You mean you’re not driving us home?”

  “No chance! This girl wants… wait, what do people drink at music festivals?”

  “You’re kidding?” Logan laughed so loud that some people nearby turned their heads towards us and I ducked, hiding behind my hair. “Oops,” he said, in almost a whisper. “Sorry, but you’re such an amateur! You’ve never been to a music festival before?”

  “Nope, you’re popping my festival cherry.”

  I caught a sparkle in his brown eyes. “Well, they don’t serve any fancy shit.”

  “What do you think I drink?” I chuckled. “I’ll happily drink beer from a bottle. I mean, they do have beer, right?”

  “Yes. They have beer. And now I’m going to sulk because I’ll have to stick to Coke.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have a beer for you too.”

  Present

  “All sounds positive so far,” Lydia says, taking a sip of her vodka and lemonade.

  It’s two days later, the first chance I’ve had to see my best friend and tell her all that happened on the day that everything changed. We’re in one of our local pubs because, frankly, I need the fresh air after spending forty-eight hours mooching around my house with a dopey grin on my face.

  Have you ever tried to hold off on sharing a memory, just because you’re scared that saying it out loud will taint it somehow? Lydia wanted to know every detail of the trip right away, but all I managed was a text saying, I’ll tell you soon xx

  The thing is, when our plans changed during the course of the day, it threw me. I hadn’t expected to make so many memories, and looking back on them now is like recalling the details of a vivid, beautiful dream. I want to keep them safe, protected. I don’t want them analysed or picked apart because they’re fragile, and even the slightest question mark over the things that transpired will shatter those amazing images that play over and over in my head. To me, they are perfect.

  But the best friend code states that best friends must be kept informed of all details of romantic or potential romantic situations. It’s the law.

  “The journey was great,” I tell her, nodding. “You know you’re in for a good day when there’s more laughter than silence.”

  She grins. “So, do you want to explain exactly how you went from, ‘We’re driving back tomorrow night’ to-”

  I hold up my hands. “I will. But…”

  “What?” Concern flickers in her blue eyes. I don’t mean to worry her, I’m just anxious. Anxious about sharing the memories. She’d been looking at me as if Logan and I had slipped into porno mode and spent the night going at it behind a beer tent. Not that that was beyond the realms of possibility. After all, it wasn’t as if I’d never thought about it. Not necessarily behind a beer tent, but… you know what I mean.

  “Talking about this feels weird. I want to tell you everything because, let’s face it, nobody has listened to me drone on about Logan’s awesomeness more than you have. You deserve the Ultimate Bestie Award for putting up with me for so long. But also, it sort of feels like some parts of it should be kept private. Between me and him.”

  “I don’t need to hear the full details if there is sex involved, Marnie.” She laughs. “But you’re right. I definitely deserve to hear the rest of this story, so keep talking!”

  The Reminiscing Stage aka Everything Changes

  “What the hell is going on with the weather?” Logan asked, quickly casting his eyes skyward before fixing them back on the road.

  When we’d left home, the sun was shining. As we neared our destination, the clouds had grown darker, and the summer warmth had been replaced by a cool chill that made me reach into my bag for a jumper.

  See, it really never hurts to be prepared.

  “I’m hoping it’s just a glitch,” I said. “Maybe we’ll drive right through it.”

  “We don’t have too much further to go now. About half an hour.”

  I raised my eyebrows. My being prepared didn’t actually extend to an umbrella. Yes, we lived in the UK, and even in July the weather could be unpredictable, but I’d had high hopes, and visions of tanning while enjoying the music and knocking back… beers. Because that’s what people drink at festivals.

  “Do you remember when w
e were younger and they had a music thing in town with local bands? They did it for a couple of summers when we were still at school, before they got cancelled because people got drunk and smashed up the shop windows.”

  Logan nodded. “Yeah. I used to hang around down there with my mates. I remember you used to do the same thing.”

  I flicked my head towards him. “You remember that?”

  Jesus, I hope he doesn’t remember the fact that I used to blush every time he looked at me. Pretty hard to hide; I must have looked like a faulty human traffic light. Red when he saw me gazing at him, amber as I began to pale, and green as my stomach churned with nerves at him noticing my existence.

  He smiled. “I remember. You used to be there with Lydia and… Kelly?”

  “Kerry. Yes. We were usually there looking around for the guys in the fifth year, and we dressed in clothes we thought were cool, but actually, were ridiculous.”

  I mean, really. Short skirts and t-shirts with slogans across our not-quite-fully-developed boobs, teamed with trainers, and our hair in high ponytails held back with scrunchies. It was no big shocker we didn’t get to hang out with the popular kids. We looked like eighties rejects, but without the neon.

  “I’m surprised you remember me being there,” I said.

  “I remember a lot of things.” Logan gave me a sideways smile, intriguing me.

  “Such as?”

  “Such as you and your friends drinking sneaky cans of shandy and trying to mount the stage.”

  My cheeks heated and I closed my eyes, trying to pretend he hadn’t just said that. There was really no denying it. We weren’t drunk on the shandy, we were young and occasionally a little over-confident. One particular year at our town’s lame attempt at a live music event, Lydia had dared Kerry and me to touch the sexy lead singer of one of the bands while he was performing. Not a task that can be completed with subtlety considering the sheer number of people who showed up for the gig. We barely got a toe on the stage before the police guarding the area dragged us down and told us to go home.