Dream a Little Dream Read Free Page A

witnessed me being composed and mature in my response.
    So at least I managed to keep some dignity.
    And that’s where our story should’ve ended. He should’ve moved out and disappeared into the sunset with Perfect Lexie, leaving me to eat my chicken pie in peace. But that never happened. It was never an option. Even if I’d wanted to (and I did want to), I couldn’t just cut him out of my life because of our best mates, who we’d jointly acquired at uni during the best days of our lives.
    My rocks were his rocks.
    My happy memories with them were his happy memories with them.
    Now, that sucked.
    My friends – our friends – gathered around me in support, of course they did. They were there to throw away my snotty tissues, to ply me with endless shots to drown my sorrows and then carry me home when the Sambuca had woken the emotional wreck inside me – but I knew they could only be there for me in that capacity for so long before they felt awkward about the situation. I didn’t want them looking at me, with my mascara running down my face and my lips puffed out in ugly-girl-crying-horror, and wonder when they’d be able to go hang out with fun-time Dan again. Because you can bet that he wasn’t in the same
state that I was. Not when, within a week of splitting up with me, he was already out on dates with Perfect Lexie. He’d moved out of our flat pretty sharpish, but that didn’t mean I was unaware of his whereabouts … thanks to me having access to his email and all of his social media accounts. Yeah, yeah – I’m awful, but he really should’ve been on top of changing his passwords, seeing as he specialized in all things digital.
    With Dan lost – absconded into the arms of Perfect Lexie, I didn’t want to lose my friends as well when they got bored of my moping ways. If pushed, they would choose fun-time Dan, of course they would. I would too if the choice was between a sullenly desperate me and a happy him!
    Plus, their pity irritated the crap out of me fairly quickly anyway – as did their tiptoeing around me whenever Dan came up in conversation, which invariably he did. Our worlds were so ridiculously entwined it was impossible to know where to start the unravelling and separation of our lives. A task that was made more complicated thanks to our friendship group.
    And so, I fought back in the only way I could, making the decision to hide my true feelings and act like I was fine with everything.
Absolutely fine, fine, fine. Breezy, breezy, breezy. My boyfriend might’ve dumped me after seven years together and jumped all over my heart using a pogo-stick, but hey, we’re all alive and life is so hunky-fucking-dory – let’s all hold hands and sing
Kumbaya My Lord
around a campfire as we marvel over the wonder that is life.
    I was even the first to suggest Perfect Lexie came along to our weekly Wednesday quiz night at our local pub once they were officially a couple (two weeks post split). God
knows why I put myself through the torture, but it felt like the only way to gain a little control of the situation I’d become helpless in, even if it did mean that I stayed up in bed wailing the whole night afterwards.
    Seriously, she was so annoyingly perfect with her pretty little face decorated with luscious lips and huge green eyes, silky smooth dark blonde hair and killer boobs. She had the sort of humour that all of our friends appreciated, causing them to wet themselves laughing at various times during the night. I’ll admit, it was nervous laughter at first – giving me sideways glances to check I was okay with their treachery, but my goofy smile seemed to put them at ease. In fact, I found the goofier the smile I mustered the more successful I was at keeping up the pretence.
    God, it was a tough night.
    The only thing that appeased my hurting heart was the fact that Perfect Lexie had the most irritating laugh I’d ever heard. It was nice to find a fault – even if that fault made me want to