Go Your Own Way

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Would you dare life your life against the grain?

Submitted: November 02, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 02, 2019

A A A

A A A


 

 

200 likes. Yasssss. Omg. So good. Hang on a sec. WHATTT? Who wrote that comment? What the hell have I ever done to you? They must be a crazy lunatic with no life, but wait? What if they’re right? What if I’m a terrible person? Fuckkkkk. And so the inner turmoil and torture begins....

Amy poured another glass of the bottle of Merlot which she had habitually come to drink alone in her flat on a Friday night. She’d caught herself in the mirror after her first glass. “Ooh I like this outfit and my hair kind of looks alright tonight, I’d better document that”. Amy’s blonde hair that she had spent all night curling more out of boredom than anything else fell over her shoulders and a cute black fluffy jumper fell off one slender shoulder. Amy grabbed her phone out of the back pocket of her skinny jeans, posed for about a million selfies before deciding which one was the best, angling her phone above her head to ensure her face was suitably angled, then used a filter and one of her phone apps to do edit upon edit. Yep, let’s get rid of those eye bags and that annoying spot on my chin that’s been there for weeks on end. Wait! More lipgloss needed. Improved. Er, Christ! I’d better put up the brightness to hide the working week I’ve had clearly showing in my face. THERE. Better. In fact, utter perfection. Click. Uploaded in seconds to Facebook and Instagram.

Okay.... Deep breath.... One.... two....three seconds... nothing yet... and then...

ta-dah!

One, two, three, four “likes”, then more from the usuals. The compliments start flooding in. “Gorgeous”, “Stunning Amy!” “Such a babe” “Killing it Queen!” Ooh hot Matt from the gym has liked it! Yassssss. That’ll make Callum jealous!

This is how it usually went.

Amy Stanton, a 26year old Millennial, who lived in her flat on the Norfolk coastal town of Wells had dreams of grandeur, and according to her Instagram, she was living a life of riley, documenting staged moments or snap shots of a good day, a sunset on the beach, when in reality, she was struggling on minimum wage, part time job in a high street beauty salon, with a shitty boyfriend Callum, who, if you looked at her social media, they were the most loved up couple since Harry and Meghan but in reality, he left his boxers in her bathroom after a boozy night out with the lads, he’d end up banging on her door at 2am, yelling “Babe, come on I’m fucking freezing my bollocks off out here! Babe, let me in! I need a piss!” So she’d let him in, they would have a quicky, followed closely by Callum passing out in her bed and take taking a bus back to Great Yarmonth the next day.

Tonight she was alone. They’d had an argument earlier over something trivial and she didn’t know where he was, he wasn’t answering her texts and to be fair, she wasn’t really in the mood to speak to him anyway. Better to distract herself with wine and some social media attention seeking behaviour.

It had all seemingly been going rather well, giving her a sense of sudden validation until that comment came in from HER. From Molly Matthews. Right. Enough. Have another drink Aimes. Who cares what she thinks of me anyway? It’s only that bimbo girl Molly.

Molly was one of the other Beauty Therapists at her salon La Chic that did the Nails. She had long glistening black hair and lip fillers and killer eyebrows. Her Acrylic Nails were long and pointy and always perfect, like cat claws Amy thought. Amy suspected that Molly had a thing for Callum but he assured her there was nothing going on. Molly had a way of lurking over her (and his) Instagram in a way that made her uncomfortable and her stomach flip but not in a good way, making her feel slightly sick. Tonight was no exception. She kept staring at her name. Molly Matthews. Before she knew it she was clicking on her Profile, then, suddenly her eyes glanced upon Molly’s story. She’s in a bar in Great Yarmouth! I know that bar! Oh, of course she’s on the shots of Sambuka! Hold on a minute. There’s two hands in that photo. A bloke’s hand. I recognise that arm tattoo and watch! DAMN IT, CALLUM! BAAAAASTAAAARD!!!!

Feelings of nausea suddenly made worse by the few glasses of red and being sat on her own on a Friday night.

Okay, head spinning...ugh, totally gonna hurl. Amy threw open the window of her flat and breathed in the fresh, crisp slightly salty sea air and took a deep breath.

Something was clear as she wiped her angry, stinging tears away from her mascara stained cheeks.

I need to get out of here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Last call for Flight BA118 to New York JFK, last call....

 

Amy’s daydream came to an abrupt end as she shook her head and refocused back to the coffee shop she was in with her best friend Ella in North Norfolk.

“Amy, are you listening? Amyyyy, earth to Amy! I said, so where are you thinking of going?” Ella was used to her dreamy friend and took a pause to sip her latte waiting for a response.

“Oh. Sorry, sorry, I was miles away.” Amy gave a deep sigh “I don’t know mate. Anywhere. Just not here”.

Amy had text Ella for an emergency meet up at their favourite coffee place on the coast called Grey Seals, it was on the beach at Holkham. Lots of posh dog walkers in wax jackets and wellies and yummy mummies with little kids were locals here and there was a sense of community, and yet Amy somehow didn’t feel like she fit in. Following from the dramas of Friday night with Molly’s story clearly showing her out with what now could possibly be her cheating scumbag of a boyfriend, Amy most definitely wasn’t feeling all that chummy with the locals today.

She sighed again “Oh Ella. Why did I have to bloody look?”

“Please. Girl! Because you don’t trust him. You never have really”. Ella was that blunt best friend that always knows what to say in an honest and frank manner. She brushed her chestnut fringe out of her eyes and looked over her shoulder which prompted her to curve a smile.

“Anyway. That fit bloke over there with the black Labrador keeps staring at you” she smirked.

“Shuttttt up. No he does not!” Amy blushed and pretended to not have been looking at the man a few tables away reading the newspaper and attempting the crossword.

“He bloody does!”

The two friends giggled into their coffee mugs and Amy desperately tried to change the subject.

“Look! We need refills, go on, go! Your turn” gesturing Ella to the hipster lad with a beanie hat and a beard behind the counter.

Amy peaked at the man with the friendly looking black Labrador, who at this moment had his face down engrossed in the crossword, slightly frowning tapping his pen on the table as he was trying to think of a word. He had thick, silky dark brown hair styled up off his face, a strong angular jaw with a soft dark almost black facial hair, not a full on beard, but just enough to make him look slightly dishevelled and manly. Amy couldn’t help but notice how handsome his face was and how lean his muscular frame was showing through his light grey t-shirt and deep blue and grey checked shirt. He looked like he smelled really good. I mean really good she thought. Stop it now. Stop it.

Then he looked at her. Piercing deep blue eyes, starting intensely in her direction, only for a split second, before he looked away again. Damn it. He wasn’t looking. He was thinking.

He tapped his pen again and said to himself, “Dangerously fascinating woman.....come on Coops, you’re better than this, it can’t be Vixen, that doesn’t fit, hmmmm, nope, I’m totally stumped”

After the girls had finished their coffee, they got up to leave. Amy walked past the bloke who was still looking perplexed and clearly annoyed with himself. She took a step back towards his table and cleared her throat, “Siren, simple. The answer to your crossword is Siren”.

Amy took Ella by the arm and smirked a little.

The man, stared at the paper, shook his head and raised a smile that made his lips curl up at one end and he did a chuckle “Well, I never, that’s it! ... I ....” he looked up to thank the female who had helped him complete his Saturday afternoon.

But she had already walked out the door.

“Fascinating woman alright”. He thought.

 

He patted his dog on the head and stood up to leave “Ro, come on boy let’s go”. Just as Amy and Ella were walking away he ran up to greet them.

“Hey, hi. I just wanted to, well, say thanks – crosswords hey?! A right pain when you get stuck on the last clue!”

Amy answered “Oh, no worries. It was nothing really”.

“Sam...Cooper... I mean, I’m Sam Cooper, oh and this is Ro”.

“Amy”.

Ella coughed “Oh and this is Ella”.

“Well then, nice to meet you girls. See you here again sometime, maybe”.

“He was well lush Amy, those eyes!” Ella’s face light up with glee as she clapped her hands. She wasn’t so usually romantic. It was Amy’s turn to be rational.

“Well, you are forgetting about Callum, you know, my BOYFRIEND”

“Your boyfriend who may or may not be cheating on you with Molly Matthews?” Oh, Ella was back.

“Well, yes, yes, I know that Ella but we don’t really know what actually happened do we?”.

“True. I still think he’s a twat”. Ella replied as she rolled her eyes.  

Just like that, the sinking feeling in Amy’s stomach returned stronger than ever.  

I need to get to New York. Fast.

Go your own way

Julie Flatman

 Would you dare live your life against the grain?

 

200 likes. Yasssss. Omg. So good. Hang on a sec. WHATTT? Who wrote that comment? What the hell have I ever done to you? They must be a crazy lunatic with no life, but wait? What if they’re right? What if I’m a terrible person? Fuckkkkk. And so the inner turmoil and torture begins....

Amy poured another glass of the bottle of Merlot which she had habitually come to drink alone in her flat on a Friday night. She’d caught herself in the mirror after her first glass. “Ooh I like this outfit and my hair kind of looks alright tonight, I’d better document that”. Amy’s blonde hair that she had spent all night curling more out of boredom than anything else fell over her shoulders and a cute black fluffy jumper fell off one slender shoulder. Amy grabbed her phone out of the back pocket of her skinny jeans, posed for about a million selfies before deciding which one was the best, angling her phone above her head to ensure her face was suitably angled, then used a filter and one of her phone apps to do edit upon edit. Yep, let’s get rid of those eye bags and that annoying spot on my chin that’s been there for weeks on end. Wait! More lipgloss needed. Improved. Er, Christ! I’d better put up the brightness to hide the working week I’ve had clearly showing in my face. THERE. Better. In fact, utter perfection. Click. Uploaded in seconds to Facebook and Instagram.

Okay.... Deep breath.... One.... two....three seconds... nothing yet... and then...

ta-dah!

One, two, three, four “likes”, then more from the usuals. The compliments start flooding in. “Gorgeous”, “Stunning Amy!” “Such a babe” “Killing it Queen!” Ooh hot Matt from the gym has liked it! Yassssss. That’ll make Callum jealous!

This is how it usually went.

Amy Stanton, a 26year old Millennial, who lived in her flat on the Norfolk coastal town of Wells had dreams of grandeur, and according to her Instagram, she was living a life of riley, documenting staged moments or snap shots of a good day, a sunset on the beach, when in reality, she was struggling on minimum wage, part time job in a high street beauty salon, with a shitty boyfriend Callum, who, if you looked at her social media, they were the most loved up couple since Harry and Meghan but in reality, he left his boxers in her bathroom after a boozy night out with the lads, he’d end up banging on her door at 2am, yelling “Babe, come on I’m fucking freezing my bollocks off out here! Babe, let me in! I need a piss!” So she’d let him in, they would have a quicky, followed closely by Callum passing out in her bed and take taking a bus back to Great Yarmonth the next day.

Tonight she was alone. They’d had an argument earlier over something trivial and she didn’t know where he was, he wasn’t answering her texts and to be fair, she wasn’t really in the mood to speak to him anyway. Better to distract herself with wine and some social media attention seeking behaviour.

It had all seemingly been going rather well, giving her a sense of sudden validation until that comment came in from HER. From Molly Matthews. Right. Enough. Have another drink Aimes. Who cares what she thinks of me anyway? It’s only that bimbo girl Molly.

Molly was one of the other Beauty Therapists at her salon La Chic that did the Nails. She had long glistening black hair and lip fillers and killer eyebrows. Her Acrylic Nails were long and pointy and always perfect, like cat claws Amy thought. Amy suspected that Molly had a thing for Callum but he assured her there was nothing going on. Molly had a way of lurking over her (and his) Instagram in a way that made her uncomfortable and her stomach flip but not in a good way, making her feel slightly sick. Tonight was no exception. She kept staring at her name. Molly Matthews. Before she knew it she was clicking on her Profile, then, suddenly her eyes glanced upon Molly’s story. She’s in a bar in Great Yarmouth! I know that bar! Oh, of course she’s on the shots of Sambuka! Hold on a minute. There’s two hands in that photo. A bloke’s hand. I recognise that arm tattoo and watch! DAMN IT, CALLUM! BAAAAASTAAAARD!!!!

Feelings of nausea suddenly made worse by the few glasses of red and being sat on her own on a Friday night.

Okay, head spinning...ugh, totally gonna hurl. Amy threw open the window of her flat and breathed in the fresh, crisp slightly salty sea air and took a deep breath.

Something was clear as she wiped her angry, stinging tears away from her mascara stained cheeks.

I need to get out of here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Last call for Flight BA118 to New York JFK, last call....

 

Amy’s daydream came to an abrupt end as she shook her head and refocused back to the coffee shop she was in with her best friend Ella in North Norfolk.

“Amy, are you listening? Amyyyy, earth to Amy! I said, so where are you thinking of going?” Ella was used to her dreamy friend and took a pause to sip her latte waiting for a response.

“Oh. Sorry, sorry, I was miles away.” Amy gave a deep sigh “I don’t know mate. Anywhere. Just not here”.

Amy had text Ella for an emergency meet up at their favourite coffee place on the coast called Grey Seals, it was on the beach at Holkham. Lots of posh dog walkers in wax jackets and wellies and yummy mummies with little kids were locals here and there was a sense of community, and yet Amy somehow didn’t feel like she fit in. Following from the dramas of Friday night with Molly’s story clearly showing her out with what now could possibly be her cheating scumbag of a boyfriend, Amy most definitely wasn’t feeling all that chummy with the locals today.

She sighed again “Oh Ella. Why did I have to bloody look?”

“Please. Girl! Because you don’t trust him. You never have really”. Ella was that blunt best friend that always knows what to say in an honest and frank manner. She brushed her chestnut fringe out of her eyes and looked over her shoulder which prompted her to curve a smile.

“Anyway. That fit bloke over there with the black Labrador keeps staring at you” she smirked.

“Shuttttt up. No he does not!” Amy blushed and pretended to not have been looking at the man a few tables away reading the newspaper and attempting the crossword.

“He bloody does!”

The two friends giggled into their coffee mugs and Amy desperately tried to change the subject.

“Look! We need refills, go on, go! Your turn” gesturing Ella to the hipster lad with a beanie hat and a beard behind the counter.

Amy peaked at the man with the friendly looking black Labrador, who at this moment had his face down engrossed in the crossword, slightly frowning tapping his pen on the table as he was trying to think of a word. He had thick, silky dark brown hair styled up off his face, a strong angular jaw with a soft dark almost black facial hair, not a full on beard, but just enough to make him look slightly dishevelled and manly. Amy couldn’t help but notice how handsome his face was and how lean his muscular frame was showing through his light grey t-shirt and deep blue and grey checked shirt. He looked like he smelled really good. I mean really good she thought. Stop it now. Stop it.

Then he looked at her. Piercing deep blue eyes, starting intensely in her direction, only for a split second, before he looked away again. Damn it. He wasn’t looking. He was thinking.

He tapped his pen again and said to himself, “Dangerously fascinating woman.....come on Coops, you’re better than this, it can’t be Vixen, that doesn’t fit, hmmmm, nope, I’m totally stumped”

After the girls had finished their coffee, they got up to leave. Amy walked past the bloke who was still looking perplexed and clearly annoyed with himself. She took a step back towards his table and cleared her throat, “Siren, simple. The answer to your crossword is Siren”.

Amy took Ella by the arm and smirked a little.

The man, stared at the paper, shook his head and raised a smile that made his lips curl up at one end and he did a chuckle “Well, I never, that’s it! ... I ....” he looked up to thank the female who had helped him complete his Saturday afternoon.

But she had already walked out the door.

“Fascinating woman alright”. He thought.

 

He patted his dog on the head and stood up to leave “Ro, come on boy let’s go”. Just as Amy and Ella were walking away he ran up to greet them.

“Hey, hi. I just wanted to, well, say thanks – crosswords hey?! A right pain when you get stuck on the last clue!”

Amy answered “Oh, no worries. It was nothing really”.

“Sam...Cooper... I mean, I’m Sam Cooper, oh and this is Ro”.

“Amy”.

Ella coughed “Oh and this is Ella”.

“Well then, nice to meet you girls. See you here again sometime, maybe”.

“He was well lush Amy, those eyes!” Ella’s face light up with glee as she clapped her hands. She wasn’t so usually romantic. It was Amy’s turn to be rational.

“Well, you are forgetting about Callum, you know, my BOYFRIEND”

“Your boyfriend who may or may not be cheating on you with Molly Matthews?” Oh, Ella was back.

“Well, yes, yes, I know that Ella but we don’t really know what actually happened do we?”.

“True. I still think he’s a twat”. Ella replied as she rolled her eyes.  

Just like that, the sinking feeling in Amy’s stomach returned stronger than ever.  

I need to get to New York. Fast.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2020 Julie Flatman. All rights reserved.

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