Score: I Ain't Worried - One Republic

Lydia

My alarm goes off at 8:30, but I snooze it.

Yesterday was the last day of school, and, it's a Saturday, so, no more alarms, at least not for a little while.

I have the vague idea that I have to get up early today, though.

I flick through my mental calendar and register only my meeting for coffee with Mark, but that's not till eleven, so I set another alarm for 10:00 and go back to sleep.

When I finally get out of bed, it is a bright, beautiful morning.

I shower, brush my teeth and rake a hairbrush through my wet hair, and put it up in a bun on top of my head. Then I put on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and apply some light make-up.

At ten to eleven, I am ready and head for the front door...

...aand I come across Celia in the hallway.

She is walking through the front door as I am making my way out.

She is in her Lululemon jogging pants and crop top and is carrying a bag from Formative Coffee in her hand.

"Good morning, Lydia" she chirps, all sunshine and unicorns.

"Good Morning, Medusa" I sneer, shouldering past her.

"Going out? Again?"

"No, I just love hanging out in here." I snap, checking my pockets one last time. Wallet, keys, phone, all here.

"Didn't you come home just a few hours ago?" She lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. "Don't you have to study?"

"Don't YOU?" I stress the word, to let her know what I think of women, still in university, sleeping with 50+ -year-old men, especially if the latest of said men is my father, who is not even officially divorced from my mother yet.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated.

"Just be home by dinner time, OK? Your dad and I want to have dinner together, as a family, to celebrate you leaving school."

"Is my mother invited?" I ask with a sweet smile, knowing the answer, of course.

Celia winces and pulls back a little.

"Lyds..."

"Don't call me that. Only family and friends call me that. And, last time I checked, you were neither."

She lifts her hands in front of her chest in a defensive gesture.

"OK, Lydia. You win. Just... please be home for dinner, OK?"

"I'll consider it," I reply with my sweetest smile on my way out, shutting the door behind my back.

Once out of the flat, I take a deep breath and let it out in loud puffs.

This woman is only five years older than me and she is trying to play authority with me. This is just as infuriating, as it is humiliating, given the fact that she is dumb as a cow and almost as pretty, no offense to the noble animal.

The fact that she is sleeping with my father does not allow her to try and act like my mother. And, what pisses me off even more, is that my father is encouraging her. Like, this dinner thingy? He doesn't give a fuck about stuff like that. It's all her, but he is letting her do it.

As I descend the steps, I take out my phone to check the time.

Fuck!

It's dead!

I am not going back to the flat. I will wait outside for Mark and I will charge my phone when we sit in a coffee shop, or something.

I am very excited to meet him and talk with him, after two years.

As I walk out on the street, I see Mark, already waiting for me on the sidewalk, a bag from Starbucks in hand.

"Starbucks?" I smile as I reach to hug him. "America has really put its fingerprint on you, Mark," I shake my head and I reach for the bag. I am in desperate need of caffeine.

"What's wrong with Starbucks?" He smiles, handing me a Venti latte. It has Caramel and a smiley face written on it. A wide grin twists my lips.

"Please tell me that this is just the syrup."

He shakes his head.

"That's your name, right there. And, I asked for double caramel syrup, of course."

"Oh my God, Mark! You remember that?"

When we were little, Mark, Gloria and I used to have Harry Potter movie marathons during our sleepovers at Gloria's. We would pretend to be Harry, Ginny, and Hermione. I was always Ginny and Gloria was Hermione. Fair enough, she's been the smart and sassy one since we were six.

Gloria's nanny, Ellen, would help us set up a huge bed on the floor in Gloria's bedroom and would make us hot chocolate, with all the toppings. It was our little secret from Gloria's mom, who would go mental if she ever found out that her daughter was having all those carbs, and was sleeping on the floor. I would always take my hot chocolate with whipped cream and loads of caramel syrup, and Mark started calling me Caramel. I hated it then because I was a chubby child, and I thought he was making fun of me, but it stuck between me and him, even when I was going through my bulimic years as a teenager, and I grew quite fond of it.

No one ever calls me that, besides Mark, ever.

"Oh, my God! I am so taking you on a trip down Memory Lane right now!" I laugh, as the memories flood my brain.

"A trip down Memory Lane?" He snorts. "You sound like my grandmother!"

"I feel like a grandmother, Mark," I sigh as I take a sip of my coffee. The caffeine and sugar instantly rush through my veins, making me feel a little more human with every drop.

"And why is that?" He asks as we start walking towards Brompton Road.

"Wait, where are we going?" I ask, taking another sip of coffee. The double-caramel latte is absolutely delicious.

"I told you before, I was thinking we could go for a walk in the park?" He says, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, we can sit in the sun chairs by the lake!" I say, excited. I haven't gone for a walk in Hyde Park in ages, apart from my morning runs, but they don't really count, as I am all business and no distractions when I go running.

It is a beautiful day, and we are blessed with the sun. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

"So, why are you feeling like a grandmother?" Mark teases and I sigh again.

"You know...life..."

"Now I am officially worried about you. You're eighteen. If you're letting life get at you at eighteen, what are you going to do when you get old and ragged, like me?" He says with a playful smile, but, regardless of his humour, my heart sinks a little.

How much can I actually tell him?

I don't really know him, like, him him, not the boy he used to be, but the man he has become.

I don't know what he's been up to in LA, I don't know what he's studying at UCLA even.

I don't know what his problems and worries are, and, I know that everyone has those.

Can I talk to him about my dad, or my mum, or Patrick?

"So, you and Patrick are still together?" He makes the decision instead of me without even realizing it.

"Yeah, we have been ever since that..."

"21st of February," we say at the same time. I burst out laughing at the memory and at him remembering that stuff.

"He is a great guy," I sigh as we enter the park. "Sometimes I feel like I am not completely honest with him, you know?"

He looks at me while reaching into his pocket for change to pay for the sun chairs.

"How's that?"

"Well, he is all about getting serious, and has already brought up our imminent engagement, twice." I roll my eyes with a Can-You-Imagine expression on my face.

"His mum and he even took me to Cartier for my birthday."

"Oh, how despicable of them!" He mocks and sits in a chair close to the water. I take the chair next to his.

The park is quickly filling with families, taking advantage of the beautiful Saturday morning.

I watch as a young woman hands her toddler a piece of bread to throw to the swans in the lake, but he drops it to the ground and a goose runs towards the mother and her child, clucking at them to claim his prize. The mother screams and lifts her baby in her arms, while the baby boy pisses himself with laughter.

Cute as a button, he is.

"To look at engagement rings," I say and roll my eyes again.

"Oh, shit!" His eyes go wide and he pulls himself closer to me, disbelief clear in his gaze.

"I know, right?" I sigh for the hundredth time since we met just half an hour ago. "He told me once he wanted us to get engaged before we leave for university. You know. To strengthen our relationship. But I feel more like he wants to tie me on a string. Keep me on a leash."

"I get the idea."

"Yeah. So, anyways, we spent the whole afternoon in Cartier, and, thank God, I left empty-handed, pun intended."

Mark furrows his eyebrows and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Let me get this straight. You two are in love, your families actually like each other, which is an absolute rarity in our world, and he has told you he wants to marry you." He is counting on his fingers. "I don't get what's the issue here. You realize that half of Britain's female population would bite their left arm off to be in your place, don't you?"

"I know, I know..." I grab his arm to make him stop talking. "I just... we are just eighteen, and we will be leaving soon, and I just want to go somewhere far, far away and never come back. But, somehow I feel that marrying the future Lord Casterly doesn't exactly work with the "never coming back part", does it?"

"Well, to be honest, by the time Patrick becomes Lord Whatever, the monarchy could have already ended".

I chuckle and, unfortunately, choke on my coffee.

"You heathen!"

"Just sayin'," he winks at me and I feel a small flutter in my chest. Has he always smiled this way?

"Enough about me," I say and wave my hand between us. "Tell me about yourself. What have you been up to? What's America like? How's your mum? Lily?

His face falls a little and his eyes darken. I can tell he's not comfortable talking about his family.

"They're fine," he says simply, shrugging his shoulders, letting me know that the discussion is over.

Wow, he's a well of information...

"Hm, okay..." I begin, trying to break the awkward silence.

"It's OK, Lyds, don't worry. I just have a lot on my plate right now. I am trying to accommodate all that's happening...You know, my dad's wedding and all...Do you know I just met Laura in person three days ago?"

"Laura?"

"His fiancee."

"Oh, wow..." I raise my eyebrows so high, they attempt to escape my face.

"Yeah...It's a lot to take in right now..."

"I bet..."

"But I am really glad to see you again," he gently puts his hand over mine. "It's really nice to have a friend to talk to."

I squeeze his hand and smile.

"Sure. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right..." he nods, his eyes never leaving mine.

A gray and navy haze, moving behind his back on the left catches my eye.

There is a crowd of people, all wearing navy and gray striped t-shirts, scarves, and hoodies,  approaching the lake, all laughing and talking loudly.

That's weird. It's a Saturday, why is a bunch of kids from our school walking in the park, wearing T-shirts and hoodies in the colours of the school?

I see lots of familiar faces in the cheering crowd, including people from our year. I squint my eyes and scan the crowd. There's Greg and Anita, and I can see someone stray from the group and head straight to where Mark and I are sitting...

Alex!

She is stomping her feet, coming straight at us.

"What the hell?" She yells at me, coming to a halt right in front of my chair. She shoots a look at Mark that could make hell freeze over.

"You're not picking up your phone, and you leave with so much as a text, and then you disappear from the face of the Earth and not even turn up to the match..."

My stomach sinks as she utters the last word.

The match!

Today was Patrick's match! The last match of the season, the last one he'd ever play for our school...the most important one for the year...The one that we fought over for leaving early Gloria's party last night.

And I completely forgot about it.

I jump to my feet and shoulder past Alex without a word.

"Hey, where do you think you are going?" she yells at my back.

I can hear both hers and Mark's footsteps at my heels.

I head straight for the flat. My phone is still dead and I need to turn it on ASAP. I need to talk to Patrick.

I walk past the group of students and scan it for his face.

God, I hope he's not here. I cannot face him right now. I'd rather take his wrath over the phone.

Thankfully, Patrick is nowhere to be seen. A recent discussion about a family lunch after the match to celebrate his leaving school and the final creeps into my mind. Good thing I had politely declined his mom's invitation to said lunch.

Greg looks at me with surprise splattered all over his face, as I storm past him and Anita, while she waves a hand at me shyly. I can feel a hand on my shoulder and as I turn around I see Mark by my side.

"Where are you going?" 

"Back to the flat. My phone's dead, and I missed Patrick's game today. I've got some explaining to do."

God, why are my hands shaking? 

"Why don't you use my phone?" He frowns and I don't know how to explain to him that I don't feel comfortable calling Patrick from his phone when Mark and I are alone. I feel this weird pang of...guilt...that I am out having coffee with Mark, which is ridiculous, but, somehow, I get the feeling Patrick won't be very appreciative of it.

"I didn't think of it," I lie. "Listen, Mark. I had a very good time this morning. I am sorry I have to leave like that. I'll call you later and we can talk again, OK?"

"OK, do you need anything? I will be around..."

"No, I'm fine, I just need to charge my phone and talk with Patrick. See you soon, OK?"

"OK." He nods and releases my shoulder and I break into running.

Oh, shit!
I missed Patrick's game!
I missed Patrick's game!
I missed Patrick's game!

I've never missed any of Patrick's games before. Ever.

My adrenaline levels are hitting record highs, as I browse through my mind for a plausible scenario that'd make Patrick forgive me.

1. I was kidnapped for ransom.

Highly unlikely. I am the least likely victim of kidnapping close to Patrick and his family. Though, in thriller movies, it is usually the pretty, dumb one, who gets kidnapped or killed first, right!?

2. I've been abducted by aliens. More plausible, but extremely difficult to pull off. Furthermore, with my familial history of mental health issues, I'd probably be put in a mental health institution before I can admit to the truth.

3. I died. There. Easy.

Wait, what?! No! WTF?!

I inhale a deep breath and decide to go with the most painful option: Telling the truth.

As I reach the flat, I stomp to my room and plug in my phone to the charger, which is always plugged into a socket.

"Come on, come on..." I stare at the screen impatiently.
The phone buzzes lightly and vibrates in my hand before the screen comes to life.

I receive numerous notifications for missed calls and countless text messages, while I try to find Patrick's name on my recent calls list with my shaking hands.

My phone rings before I find it and I give out a little cry as I see Patrick's name across the screen.

I shut my eyes closed and pick up.
At first, there is an awkward silence, as if he is surprised I even picked up.

"Lydia? Are you OK?" When I finally hear Patrick's voice on the other end of the line, he sounds out of breath and crazy worried.

Now is the time to pull off the kidnap-for-ransom story!

"Yeah... I am fine," I say weakly, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers.

Three... two... one...

"Then, where the fuck have you been?"

Here we go.

"Patrick, I am sorry, babe..."

"You are sorry? Sorry? I was worried sick, I thought something happened to you!"

"I am fine... I just... forgot..."

The awkward silence is only broken by the barking of a dog, which is being walked by a lovely elderly lady in the lush green, sunlit gardens across the street. The beautiful day outside is now in stark contrast to the storm, brewing in my room.

"You forgot? You forgot the most important game of the year? You forgot that I have been stressing over this game for the last two weeks?" He inhales a deep breath. "You forgot that was the reason I left you at Gloria's last night and drove for forty-five minutes in the middle of the fucking night to get back in town?"

My ears are ringing and my mouth is bone-dry.

"I know, I said I was sorry..."

"Lydia," Patrick interrupts me and I know this can't be good. He's only calling me by my full name when he is pissed or turned on, and I know for sure it is not the latter. "It's going to take a lot more than you saying "I'm sorry" for me to forgive you. This is just... unbelievable!"

"I know, I'll make it up to you, I promise..."

"How are you going to make it up to me for this? Are you going to ask for a replay, and then actually show up, and spare me the humiliation in front of the entire school and my entire family that you weren't there today? You were the only girlfriend that didn't show up, and I'm. The. Fucking. Captain!"

"I'll think of something..."

"Something's not good enough, Lydia!" He is full-on yelling now.

"Don't yell at me! It's not that much of a big deal!"

"It's a huuuuge deal, Lydia!" Patrick drags his words, making me squint with guilt at his tone.

Of course, I know it is a big deal. But I also know that I won't allow to be yelled at. Ever. I have witnessed enough yelling between my parents to know that this is something I will never be OK with. I know I fucked up, but this doesn't allow for Patrick to be losing his shit to me right now.

"Patrick..." I squint my eyes and ball my hand, which is not holding the phone into a fist. "Please, calm down. We can talk like civilized people. Just, calm down and we can meet up and talk it through, OK?"

I hear him hiss a breath out. A heartbeat passes, then another, before Patrick speaks again.

"No," his voice is low and I can tell he is trying very hard to control himself. "I need time. I need some time to cool off."

"OK, baby. I understand. I know I said it ten times already, but I truly am sorry. Enjoy your family lunch and we can talk later, OK? Just call me when you feel like talking."

"OK."

"OK."

"I just...I wanted to know...Where were you exactly? And how did you get back last night? Alex and Nate said they didn't know you'd left until Alex read your message this morning."

Oh, gosh...

"Mark drove me back," I say, trying to pull off a casual tone, but my voice betrays me terribly, breaking on the last word.

Dammit, Lydia, it was a four-word sentence! Can't you keep it together for. Four. Words?!

Silence falls across the line. That specific pang of guilt is creeping into my chest again. It is a different type of guilt than the Missing-The-Game-Of-The-Year one.

Isn't this dog done peeing, lady?!

"Oh...Good, at least I know you were safe."

I let out a deep, relieved breath.

"And where were you this morning?"

"In Hyde. Having coffee with Mark."

"What?"

"Yeah...we agreed to meet up and chat, you know...to catch up. And I agreed to it. It was really late, Patrick, it was, like four in the morning, I'd fallen asleep in his car and I wasn't thinking straight..."

"You..."

Oh, no...

"You rode back with Mark at four am, you fell asleep in his car, and you went to have coffee with him in the park mere hours after that, and you forgot about my match? Wow, Lydia, this makes so much more sense right now!"

"Patrick, please..."

"I'll call you when I feel like talking." And he hangs up.

That went well.