I turned on the kettle, took out two mugs and dropped a tea bag into each. I tapped my fingers on the worktop as I waited for the water to boil, glancing at my phone every other second. But still, I left it off. After what seemed about a lifetime, the water began bubbling and I made the tea and took both mugs into the living room.

Dad emerged from behind his newspaper. "Cheers, poppet," he said, relieving me of one mug.

I settled on the couch and took a small sip of my drink. "So what's going on in the world?"

He shook back his paper. "It's all kicking off in Middletown actually."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"It's true."

"Don't tell me. A local vicar has run away with a lonely housewife?"

"Honestly, Poppy we don't live in Desperate Housewives."

"It feels like we do."

"Well, if you must know there's been more freak weather. In fact, there was an electrical storm last night. Lightning actually struck some poor lady's house. It's ruined her roof."

I was confused. "I was up most of last night because I couldn't sleep. There was no storm. I would've heard it."

"It was over the top part of town."

"Really? I didn't hear any thunder."

Dad took a sip of his drink. "Mmm, good tea. It says in the paper there was no thunder, or rain. That's what's so weird about it. There was just a random lightning strike that hit this lady's house."

I wasn't convinced. Insurance scam, I reckoned. Didn't storm damage count as acts of God though? "Hmm."

"The Observer is saying there's been a lot of weird weather going on lately."

"Yeah, Noah said."

Dad lowered the page. "Who's Noah?"

Oops.

"No one. Just some guy."

"Some guy?"

"Come on, Dad. Leave it. Having Mum interrogate me is bad enough."

"She told me there was a guy. She almost fainted with excitement. I didn't know he was called Noah though."

I fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I'll leave it, pet. Don't worry. As long as he treats you well, that's all I care about."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Seriously."

I drank the rest of my tea as fast as I could, burning my mouth. When my mug was empty enough, I stood up.

"Right, I'm off upstairs."

Dad didn't answer. He was too engrossed in the paper.

I'd left it long enough. Proved I didn't care just enough. I turned on my phone the minute I was out of the living room and impatiently waited for it to load up.

"Come on, come on," I muttered.

It beeped in my hand. I felt a little sick. One new answerphone message. I punched in 4444 and pushed the phone to my ear.

"You have one new message," an electronic voice told me.

Yes, yes, I know that already.

"To listen to the message press one...to save the message press two...to delete the message..."

I jabbed the 1 on my mobile and took a breath.

Lizzie's excited voice echoed tinnily down my ear. "Oi, Poppy why have you got your phone off? Anyway, I don't have much credit but I just have to say RING ME. I have gossip. Also I need to know if you've done your coursework. You have, haven't you, you swot? You always hand it in on time. Can I read what you've written? Call me or die." Beep.

The electronic voice started asking me more questions but I hung up.

Why hadn't he called? I keyed in Lizzie's number. She answered on the second ring.

"Hello, you."

"Hello. What's up?"

"This coursework is sooo boring. Why do I need to know all this stuff? How is this going to help me become the next Hunter S. Thompson?"

"The next who?"

"God, you're hopeless."

"Hey!"

"You've finished it already, haven't you?"

I prepared myself for the verbal assault. "Just my first draft," I admitted.

"I knew it. I just knew it."

"Lizzie, it's not a crime to give coursework in on time."

"Yes it is."

"I can help you."

She was quiet for a moment. "Okay. You're forgiven. Can I read yours tomorrow after second period?"

"Of course."

"I love you very much you know that, right?"

"Yeah yeah." I paused. "So what's this gossip then?"

"Ooo yes. You didn't come out after the gig, did you?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"It was fun. I thought I quite fancied that drummer Jack, but then he told me he reads tabloids. Yuck. So I can't fancy him any more. Anyway Noah and Portia were there. Actually, it was lucky you weren't there. That Portia girl is sooo the kind of person you hate and judge immediately. She kept droning on about her designer handbag collection and how Daddy is buying her a flat in London after she graduates. What a cow. She was such an idiot. I mean how rude is it going on and on about how rich you are?"

I felt soothed by Lizzie's account of her.

"Anyway...you know how Noah and Portia were, like, totally all over each other at the gig?"

My stomach felt queasy at the memory. I nodded.

Lizzie must have taken my silent nod as an affirmative. "Well, it was so weird, because the moment we left Band Night, Noah completely lost interest. He dropped her hand and wouldn't really talk to her. It would've been rude, and I would have been mad at him, if Portia wasn't such an utter a-hole. But it got quite funny. She's obviously not used to being ignored and she didn't like it. She got PROPER clingy and kept trying to kiss him full on the mouth when he was in the middle of telling us a story. And he just batted her off like she was a moth or something. And, because that didn't work, she then in full public, I might add started rubbing his knee and running her hand up between his legs. And, ohmygod, Poppy, we were all staring, but she seemed to get off on it."

I was picturing it in my head and frothing with jealousy.

"But Noah, AGAIN, wasn't having any of it. He smacked her hand like she was a naughty toddler and she turned luminous red. Can you get the colour, luminous red? Oh well. She was completely blushing. And then, to save face, she pretended the whole sordid thing hadn't happened and launched into this insane monologue about how she was scouted by a modelling agency when she wasn't even wearing any make-up."

I let Lizzie catch her breath. She was in such a state of excitement, she almost needed smelling salts.

"So was that the gossip then?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear any more.

I heard her gasp for air. "No. There. Is. More," she panted.

I sighed. "Go on then."

"Well, Ruth rang earlier this afternoon and told me. She'd gone to band practice with Will this morning. Apparently Portia turned up, dressed like she was going clubbing even though it was a Sunday morning. That's what Ruth said, but I bet Ruth was wearing something equally inappropriate. Ruth said when Noah arrived he looked totally shocked to see Portia there and told her, in front of everyone, that he didn't remember inviting her. Then and this is where it gets really good he took Portia off into the corner and spoke quietly with her. After that, apparently she went bloody mental and started screaming. She picked up one of Jack's drums and kicked it across the room she made a massive hole in it. She called Noah a bastard and ran off shrieking."

I couldn't believe it.

"...So then Ruth followed Portia. Not because she cared too much about her but she pretended to so she could get the gossip. Good move actually, I've trained her well. And Portia told Ruth that Noah dumped her and said he was really sorry but he was in LOVE with somebody else."

I let the words, and their meaning, sink in slowly.

"Can you believe it?"

"No."

"Isn't that the best gossip ever? I wonder who this new girl is? She's going to be hated by every girl in the whole of Middletown."

I gulped. I tried to keep my voice casual. "Good gossip, Lizzie. You've done very well."

"Aren't you intrigued to find out who this mystery woman is?"

"Not really. Why do you care so much anyway?" My words came out harsh but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to be caught up in some sort of pathetic episode of EastEnders.

"It's just interesting, that's all." She paused. "Do you think I can still fancy someone if they read tabloid newspapers?"

Glad for the change of topic, I said, "Well, he reads books too though, doesn't he?"

"Oh yes. You're right. Maybe he's okay after all."

We talked for a few more minutes. After I hung up, I climbed onto my window sill so I could digest the new information.

Well, that explained why he hadn't called. There were scarier things now though. I didn't want some rich bitch to hate me. And he had said he loved someone else. Did that mean he loved me? It was silly. We didn't even know each other. I sat and watched the afternoon turn into evening, deep in thought.

The next morning I was grumpy.

No phone call. Not even one piddling text message. I swung myself out of bed, without doing my breathing exercises, and took my bad mood out on everything. I kicked my bedroom door shut, brushed my teeth ferociously and poured my orange juice as aggressively as one can pour orange juice.

I dressed for anger. Despite it being, again, unseasonably warm outside, I pulled out my black Motorhead T-shirt and teamed it with my frayed miniskirt. I smudged as much eyeliner round my eyes as college rules allowed and backcombed my hair. Looking at my reflection, I was surprised to find I actually looked quite good. But donning black had not eradicated my anger and I was still seething with anti-Noah venom as I stormed down my driveway.

"I hate men," I told myself. "You're so stupid, Poppy. Did you honestly think you were different?"

But then my angry musings were replaced with, "But he told Portia he loves someone else. Loves. That could mean you..."

It was like having an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. And I was so ensconced in arguing with my two imaginary selves, I didn't notice Noah appear from behind a tree.

"Hey, Poppy."

He looked almost illegally good. Black shirt oh gosh, we were matching already. Dark jeans. Sunglasses pushed casually on top of that gorgeous head of his.

"I knew you'd start stalking me if I told you where I lived." It was supposed to be a joke but the anger I'd been harnessing all morning seeped through into my tone.

Noah didn't look surprised. "Sorry I didn't call you yesterday."

I kept quiet.

"I had...stuff...to sort out."

I shrugged. "S'alright. I didn't notice anyway. I had stuff to do as well."

He took my hand and I felt myself melt, annoyingly.

"I'm really sorry I didn't call," he said again, trying to make me look him in the eyes. "I know you've decided I'm one of those guys who don't call and wind girls up, but I'm not."

How did he know me so well already? I shrugged again. It's actually a very effective communication device when your heart is pounding ten thousand times a second.