“I know, but I love Pennoah. I always thought you two would get over this and be together forever,” Amara says with an apologetic shrug.
“Pennoah? When did we ever get called that?” I ask, completely baffled. I mock-retch at how sickeningly sweet it is.
Amara laughs. “Oh, it’s just something we saw online one time and thought it was so funny we had to adopt it.”
“Thank god that didn’t catch on!” I say, wincing. “And it’s OK. Noah and I will always be friends . . . if I ever hear from him again, that is. And Callum was really nice, but I don’t really know him yet.”
“Ignore my stupid sister,” says Kira. “This is a really good thing. You have to go for it, and then make sure you come back and tell us all about it.”
“OK, OK. Let me reply.”
I read his message one more time.
Hey Penny, this is Callum—we met at MLP? I’d love to meet up again sometime to chat more photography stuff. When are you free?
I take a deep breath, then type back a quick reply.
Hi! Nice to hear from you. I’m not free this weekend, but maybe the weekend after?
I hit send, and I’m surprised myself at how little I care about the wording of my text—especially compared to how much I agonized over my first message to Noah. I hope this is part of growing up and not because I don’t seem to be having those same spiralling, fizzy feelings I did when I was texting Noah.
My phone buzzes again. Kira raises a threaded eyebrow. “Wow, he must be really keen if he’s replying straight away! James takes ages to reply.” James is a rugby-playing pretty boy from another school and Kira’s current love interest.
“That’s good. It means he’s not playing some weird guy game,” says Amara. “What does he say?”
I read the text out loud:
Sounds good! Gives me time to plan something a little more exciting. I’ll send you another text when I figure out where to meet x
Kira clutches her hands together. “Oh my god. He’s going full on date-mode. I wonder where he’ll take you.”
“I have no idea,” I say. But wherever it is, it won’t be as good as my first date with Noah, I think. Then I curse my treacherous mind.
My phone buzzes once more.
Bring your camera. I want to see the great Penny Porter in action x
Reading his final message releases a tiny flutter of butterflies in my stomach. He’s not Noah, but maybe this will turn out to be something, after all.
Chapter Twelve
I spot Posey’s bright green beret coming down the platform and I wave wildly. I’ve felt a surge of nervousness leading all the way up to this weekend, wondering if maybe she was going to bail on me. It’s a pretty big deal to come all the way down on your own to meet someone you’ve only met once. I give myself a shake. It will be fine. We’ve exchanged about a hundred messages on WhatsApp, chatting like we’ve known each other our whole lives.
I’m standing just where I told her I’d be—by the piano in the middle of the station, which is there so that anyone who wants to can play for free. When she passes through the ticket barrier and walks over to meet me she’s smiling shyly. She stops a few feet away.
“Hey, Penny,” she says.
“Hi! Was your journey OK?”
“Not too bad.” Her eyes flit around the station, taking in the flower stall and numerous pasty stands and coffee shops. She seems to want to look anywhere but at me. She must be feeling as nervous as I’ve been feeling, but I’m determined not to make it awkward.
“Anywhere you want to go first?” I offer. “The Pier? The Lanes?”
She gives me a small shrug.
I keep talking as we start to walk down the street leading away from the station. “Well, of course you wouldn’t know where—you’ve never been here before!” When she doesn’t reply, I wish I’d invited Elliot along. He knows how to break anyone’s barriers down.
“Is that the sea?” she asks, her eyes widening. We’ve come to the top of Queen’s Road, a long hill that leads all the way down to Brighton beach. I’m glad that it’s a sunny September day, because Brighton is showing itself at its best. It’s hard not to be enchanted by the city when it’s sparkling in the sunshine.
“Yeah. Want to go down there first?”
She nods, biting her lip. “I love the ocean.”
“Me too!” I link my arm through hers, and the mood lifts. From then on our conversation flows easily, like the awkwardness was a dam we managed to break through.
“I heard from Callum,” I say. “He asked me out.” I’d filled Posey in on all the Callum-and-Noah drama.
“Are you happy about that?” she asks.
“To be honest, I don’t know . . . It still feels strange.”
“I think that’s normal. He seems like a nice guy—you should give him a chance at least. What’s the worst that can happen?”
It’s refreshing to talk to someone who doesn’t just know me as Noah’s girlfriend. She doesn’t make me feel like I’m betraying him by considering going out with another person.
We breathe in the salty air down by the seafront, and Posey squeals at the sight of the pebbly beach. “Is it comfortable?” she asks. “I always see these photos of people cramming onto the beach in the summertime, but I didn’t realize there were so many stones!”