The Places I've Cried in Public by Holly Bourne

The next half-hour was a bit of a blur, to be honest. The last act – some
gymnasts – finished, and, when their scores were revealed, everyone
worked out pretty quickly that I’d won. My name got called and everyone
cheered, and I wanted to die but also savour every moment because I won I
won I won! I think people expected me to do a speech but I could hardly
even walk. I took the little metal trophy and went to leave the stage as fast
as I could. I stopped as I spotted him at the bottom of the stairs with his
band, waiting to pick up his award for second place.
“Here, let me help you,” he said, holding out his hand to help me down.
I met his eyes and I swear to god something very strange and powerful
happened. The rest of the refectory turned to smudge. I became aware of
every pinprick of my skin. I took his hand and the surge of chemistry was
so potent that I couldn’t even say thank you. I just sort of let him gently pull
me down. He didn’t break eye contact and we just stared at one another in a
weird, shared chemical wonder. My body felt like it had released a thousand
opera singers shooting into my blood.
“You’re amazing,” Reese Davies whispered into my plaited hair, before
dropping my hand and beckoning the rest of his band onstage.
And I was left standing there, breathless, wondering what the hell had
just happened.
You’ve not made eye contact once since I’ve been
sat here – your eyes are only for her. The jealousy is
like nothing I’ve ever known before. I feel like I
could actually vomit with envy and it would come
out cartoon-green. Why don’t you look at me like
that any more? You used to stare at my face like it
was the only thing in your life you trusted to give you
the answers. And now, nothing. Like none of it