Anastasia

The internet’s down at school so I’m writing this in word and I’ll paste it in later.

The weekend was pretty interesting. The Charity Ball on Friday night went smoothly and I managed to last the entire party without any of my dirty little secrets revealing themselves. I felt unbearably sober. As though I was the only one in the room without an alcoholic drink in my hand – well, that’s not too far from the truth. I’ve never felt so tense, nervous, excited, sick to my stomach at the thought of the truth coming out. Yet, it didn’t. That’s good, right?

I felt like a Princess looking in the mirror at home – the dress, the make up, the hair. But then when I arrived at the party I felt small, like a naïve little girl at a party of grown ups. You can never let these things show, though. Keep them hidden, like everything else.

After a few drinks Adam grew moody and from looking at my phone, I’m sure he tried to ring Anthony. He started to ask me why he came round on Valentine’s Day – ‘It was just like any other day. It wasn’t meant to mean anything special’ – ‘Yeah. To you, maybe’ He said a while ago that he’d seen my eyes before somewhere – when he was standing on a cliff, looking out to the sea in Cornwall. I looked at him then and wondered if he knew what I was thinking while he looked at my eyes. I hope not.

We went out together again on Saturday night, and when we walked back to his house early in the morning – the temperature outside being about -1, it started to snow. He stopped me when we reached a bridge, standing under the light of a streetlamp. ‘You look beautiful with snowflakes in your hair.’

I froze. He kissed me. I couldn’t move. Who is this? How the fuck do you know all these things about me? ‘What’s the matter, Anastasia?’ (he joked that I looked like a Russian spy that night) I smiled slightly – ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Just cold.’ He smiled and put his arms around me.

‘We’ll go straight to bed when we get in.’

I wanted to cry.