I gaze at the soft leather sofa thats staring me in the face. Just one sit, it won't hurt. I think to myself. I'm in a furniture store. Add that to about every other shop you can think of, then add 5 hours of feet torture, and you can imagine how tired I am. So when I see the most perfect, bum hugging, feet relaxing sofa in the world right there infront of me, you wouldn't believe how tempting it was to just flop down on it and never get up again.
“Rose? What are you staring at? Get over here and help me, wont you?!” my mum calls to me as im still contemplating escapism via the sofa. So warm, so soft. so...
“Rose!!”
I turn my head to where mum is trying her best to fit a 3 layered book shelf in a trolley. Finally, we can go home now.
“Okay, o-kay!” I huff, walking over to help her. This is one of many shops we've been in just to find a bookshelf perfect enough for her. Her equalling my mother of course. Everything has to be perfect. Just right. So now we've found one, we can go home. Or so i'm hoping.
We fight our battles with the cashier as we try to get the bookcase in the trolley. The cashier/sales advisor is offering to carry it to the car, while mum insists that she can manage so long as it gets in that damned trolley. Her words, not mine.
Don't get me wrong, I love shopping. I inspire great taste. In fashion, not furniture.
When it comes to my dad, he is always miraculously busy when it comes to shopping.
“Peter? Rose and I are going shopping, You coming along to help your dear wife?” my mum asked before we left. Wearing a flaring white blouse with long black trousers. It's almost like she's going for a job interview.
My dad is a 'get away quick' kinda guy. Always there when you don't need him, never there or escapes when you do. Love him to bits though.
“Um, no dear, I have some things to do. You know, the usual.”
The usual being internet betting and alcohol consuming. But he doesnt know I know that. And mum, well, lets just say she has an image of what his 'usual' is but doesnt want to cause an argument.

So here we are. And soon 'here' will be my bed if I have my way. It sucks being an only child and 14. It sucks not being allowed to stay home on a weekend. It majorly sucks when your mum decides to torture you into 5 hours of walking around endlessly.
We make the trolley over to our blacked out BMW Estate that's parked right outside the front entrance as theres practically no cars around this late in the day now.
I help mum put the shelf in the boot carefully and then go around to get in my side of the car. I sit there thinking to myself how warm it is for this time of year, especially when last year we had endless snow in February, when this really, really cute guy - or in mums case 'boy' - walks into the same shop we've just come out of. He looks at our car before the doors open, and for that split second, we make eye contact. Don't ask me how that was even possible since he was probably just wondering what all the racket was, what with my mum swearing blindly about why the boot wont shut. He must have been at least 16, but I just had that – feeling.
Well, that was weird.

“Are you okay Rose?” Mum turns to me and asks. A slight worry line appearing on her face. I don't usually space out that much, but when I do she instantly thinks there's something wrong.
I pull on a semi-believable smile, trying to show that i'm not down, and say “Yeah sure mum, i'm fine. I'm just really tired, thats all.”
She smiles back, puts the car into gear and reverses out of Freeport Shopping Centre.
We make it home in approximately 20 minutes.
In the time we had been in the furniture shop, i totally forgot that i left my mobile in the car. I found 6 unread messages on it when I finally checked my phone in my room. I don't like reading in the car.
Four of them were from my best friend Nicola and the other 2 were from Darren. My boyfriend. We only got together 2 months ago but it feels like a life time. A good life time. It still seems weird to call him 'my boyfriend'. I sigh heavily as I read the messages that he sent me confessing how much he misses me and cant wait for school on monday until we meet again. With extra xxx's on the end. Love. It's a many wondered thing. And something that i'm sure I might never understand for as long as I live.
“Dinner's ready!” My mum shouts up. They don't know about Darren yet. I guess with me being their only child I don't want to get the big old lecture on being careful and them worrying about me. I mean, jeez, i've only been with him for 2 months. It's not like i'm gonna run off and marry him. Ha ha.

Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday! Maan to I hate Sundays!
They never change do they?
Its like, one minute it's Saturday and you're having fun and the next – BAM! It's Sunday and you're bored as hell.
Lucky for me I have back up.
“Nic! Hey, wanna come over?” I ask Nicola when I ring her up - my one and only best friend in the whole wide world – well, until I get more friends that is. She lives with just her mum since her parents are divorced and her dad works abroad a lot. I feel for her sometimes since I still have my dad around a lot, even if he doesn't do much at least I still have him to speak to. So she gets on well with my parents.
“Ummmm, sure. Buuut..” She humms while thinking. A trait that does tend to irritate me a bit. Okay maybe a lot. “I have homework.” she finally admits.
I roll my eyes. Little miss perfect my arse.
“Well, bring it over here then silly. Its not like I don't have homework eiiither...”
I like to drag out my words. It means I don't have to add more words. Sooooo many of my friends do it to their parents when asking for stuff. It's fun sometimes.
She humms some more.
“Okay.” she finally gives in. I give a silent 'whoop!' with my fist.
“Great, okay, yay! Be round in, ummm, 20 minutes?”
“Yep. See you then!”
“Bye”

“Hey goodlooking, whatcha got cookin'?”
Darren, my gorgeous boyfriend – did I mention we've been together 2 months already? - whispers in my ear while putting his hands over my eyes. I'd know that smell anywhere. Okay, and maaaaybe i'd know his voice. But the smell is better. It's a boy smell. Or rather, a guuuy smell. Sweaty with a hint of riske. Mmmm.
“So you all set for Leannes party next week. I hear you're helping set up?” Nicola asks as she's stocking up books in her locker in the school hall way. It's Monday morning and already we're bored.
First lesson of the day was english, which isn't too bad. But my second lesson, french – urgh! - is crap and pretty much because dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, isnt in class with me.
I wrap my arms around Darrens waist and tuck my head under his arm for comfort while still talking to nicola.
“Yeah, I'm set. Sort of. She's such high maintenance, that girl.” I laugh a little and shrug as to say “y'know” and let the topic drop before Darren bends down to kiss me and Nicola makes a gagging sound.
We set of for French, well, I set off for french. Mr Ficole. He is such a -
“Bonjour class, i take it you all finished the homework i set?” Mr Ficole calls to the class as we're just about sat down.
Yikes.
“Yes Mr Ficole” the rest of the class chant in unison. Rather like a choir practice.
I lean over to my neighbour, and who happens to be another good friend of mine, Emma.
“Hey, how was your weekend?” I whisper to her once i've got her attention. Our class desks are row by row but its not too hard to talk to each other. If you don't make it too obvious.
She turns to me, as im sitting on her left, rolls her eyes and then gives a big old dramatic sigh and exclaims quietly, “What a load of shit!”
I giggle silently and hope our teacher hasn't heard us.
“Oh dear. What happened” I ask, sympathy all over my face. Emma is a few months older than me and has the appearance of a know-it-all. We get on pretty well except when shes on. Girls problems, yuck!
She turns her whole body to face me and bends nearer over, so she doesnt have to talk so loud.
“Well, Alex decides he wants to take a break!” I roll my eyes, boys! “Then my laptop broke because stupid Annie decided to play with it, so now I have to send it back to the store.” Annie is her little sister. Such a pain in the ass. “Urgh and then my allowance got stopped because my dad accused me of breaking it myself so I have no way of actually replacing it if it's too damaged.” she breathes out slowly, trying to calm herself down.
So far, since we're at the back of the class, we havent been spotted talking. Mr Ficole is in full swing and rarely notices if anyone is listening or not listening as the case may be.
“Oh My God! Thats terrible!” I gasp. Horror stricken that she has to go however long it is without a computer. Without internet.
“I. Know!” she says, over doing hand gestures to show just how annoyed she really is.
“Rose! Emma! Would you care to share your news with the rest of the class?” Mr Ficole walks up to us while we've still got our heads together, blocking the gap between desks.
We both sit up straight in silence with embarrassment. Well, I know i'm embarrassed. Heads down to our books while the whole class looks our way.
“No Sir, sorry.” I whimper, wanting all the attention to go back to the front of the class and less on me.
“We were just discussing how great you are at teaching, Mr Ficole.” Emma exclaims, smiling broadly at him. His expressions changing from extremely annoyed to confused to utter disbelief, i'm guessing because, as much as he would love it, he knows Emma just made a big, fat, lie!
I grin and lift my head, determined to wing this.
“Yes Sir it's true. We love your technique and can't wait for the school trip next week.”
Mr Ficole just stares at us, like we've got some weird sign above our heads. It's odd, but I would have sworn that I saw a look of – is that pride in his expression?
“Well class,” he gestures to the whole room “seems we have a couple of suck ups.” he smiles eerily around the room “Since the topic of next weeks school trip has just been brought up,” he eyes myself and Emma one at a time, “let's start todays lesson, or rather, continue, since we were so rudely interrupted,” again, another glare in my direction, “by going over some vital phrases whilst on our trip to the fabulous Paris!”


Paris was amazing. Or at least, it would have been if we'd been allowed to tour ourselves much.
All around us were magnificant buildings that dated back centuries and history that couldnt even be described. Mr Ficole took us to museums, art galleries, and because some of us insisted – MacDonalds of all places.
Although we knew we didnt have long here, time went even faster. On the third days we got given half the day to wander around on our own – on the basis that we go in groups of no less than 2 and we learn something.
I was sad because neither Nicola nor Darren were with me so I pretty much spent my whole time with Emma. She insisted we go eat and since she has money, we went to a small upmarket cafe that not only sold 'normal' food but also cakes! That was what cheered me up, ha ha.
It served so many things that I had never heard of but somehow Emma had. So I went with the Beef Fillet – since thats all I understood- with fries and salad and Emma went with 'Jugged of doe French-style, grated Parmesan cheese gnocchi' – whatever that means.
The meals were undeniabley amazing and I was pretty sad to leave after Emma paid up, which I promised her I would give her some money back at home. She didn't say no, typical.
We got a text from our teacher telling us to head to Galerie Maeght. We only vaguely knew where that was, but how hard could it be?
The roads were busy, but it was getting dark early given the time of year. To our surprise, the gallery wasnt far from where we'd eaten. Once we got to the front doors, Mr Ficole was there waiting to tick us off his assembly list. I can't say I don't like art, but i'm not the most appreciative.
What I felt most whilst in the gallery wasnt the amazingly diverse paintings that were hung all around me, it wasnt the immaculate design of the rooms themselves and it wasnt even the really tall chandelier just above my head that looked like it would fall with just the slightest shake. It was the feeling that I was being watched. Every art room I visited with Emma I felt like I had an extra pair of eyes on my back and I know it wasnt Emma because she kept on asking what was wrong with me everytime I turned around.
We were both so engrossed in one of the Van Gough paintings that I didnt hear see – or hear – a guy of at least 20 – but a good 20 - brush past me to look at the painting next to me. It wasnt crowded, so I didnt know why. All I know is once he caught my eye, he wouldnt let it go. He looked familiar. He didnt look like he belonged in an art gallery. Wearing what looked like seriously worn jeans and a plain ragged white t-shirt, he looked more like a bum. But who was I to judge?
“Why are you staring at that dude over there?” Emma whispered to me as we moved to the next painting. Mr Ficole came into the room and ordered us together. Turns out our next assignment is on french art – despite the fact that he doesnt teach art himself – and how it has changed over the years.
I walked over to the modern art section and pulled Emma over to a corner.
“He keeps looking at me, thats why I keep looking. So Shhh” I jabbed at Emma. She flinched and then laughed, looking over at the same guy while I kept glaring at her for winding me up.
“He's leaving, see!” I said as he was leaving. Which was good and I guess in some ways, bad. I hadnt even known who he was but it was just – weird.

The next time I spotted that same guy was a week later in my home town. Weird, huh?
He didnt spot me this time, or so I thought. I found him standing against a wall opposite my school, looking into thin air. Or so I thought. Until he looked me in the eye, by which time I was then turning to go into school. When I next looked back, he was gone. I felt like I was being stalked.
“You never guess who I just saw again?” I said to Emma as we were walking back into school from our trip to Paris.
“Who'd you see?” said Darren, my boyfriend.
Crap! I couldn't exactly say that some guy had been looking at me in more than one place so I just said off the top of my head -
“Oh I saw the bus driver.” I said causually, “You know, Patrick? He was away for a while and then came back.” I finished, knowing full well Darren didnt take the bus so he wouldnt know any different.
Emma eyed me suspiciously but didnt say anything until we were next in French together.
“So, i'm gonna take a wild guess and say you didnt just see the bus driver again?” she asked with a gleam in her eye that said she knew I was lying. Even I knew I was a bad liar.
I bent over to her desk again and whispered, “Of course not. No, I saw that same guy who kept on looking at me at the Gallery. Remember?” she nodded. “He was standing outside the school, y'know the wall that leads to the park? Yeh he was against there.” Emma just nodded and smiled eagerly.
“You know what this means?” she said, looking back and forth from the teacher to check for trouble. I just shrugged. “This means that if you see him again, you have a stalker!” she sung.
I groaned. Great, just what I needed.
After class I went to see Nicola by our locker, where we always meet after classes.
“Sooooooo, how was Paris?” she asks with the worst fake french accent ever.
Darren came up and hugged me from behind. Getting a silent whistle from Nicola. I couldnt well tell her now could I?!
“It was... Great. Um, yeah, we went around lots of places.” I smiled and shrugged to give the aloof impression.
They both looked at me as though I was crazy.
“You don't sound so sure. Wasn't it all glamourous and sparkling like it is on TV?”
I didn't know what to say. I just shrugged, hoping they wouldnt ask anymore questions.
I turned around to kiss Darren, making it obvious I didn't want to talk about Paris. Well, that wasn't 100% true. I did want to talk about it, but if I mentioned I had a stalker guy following me around, it wouldnt go down too well with Darren. It was safer for us if I didnt say anything.
Unlike other kisses, something felt off. I mean, sure his lips were soft as marshmallows and it was perfectly symetry, but there wasn't a spark. Okay, yeah at 14 things arent going to be rosy for all of life, but I loved Darren. Didnt I?
I let him go and turned my head swiftly to avoid him seeing my face. I had a guilty expression.
“Whats wrong?” he asked me, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. The touch was enough to make me collapse to my knees.
I grabbed my bag and walked outside for some air. I had 5 minutes until next lesson so i'd be okay. Darren insisted he come with me.
“No, it's okay.” I smiled as best I could and went out.
The hall ways were almost deserted except for a few stray students who dont go to next class early.
When I got outside the air hit me like an ice cold shower. It was refreshing.