NEVER BEEN KISSED

The Whistledown Diaries – Musings from a Wallflower

Entry Date: 23rd December

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of good sense will, inevitably, cast aside this Author before Yuletide.

It is true, dear reader, this has not been the first time it has happened to me, although I do not tell you this looking for sympathy. I tell you this so that if it has happened to any of you – know that you are not alone.

In truth, I am not unhappy with this turn of events. In the time we were together, I knew he wasn't 'The One'.

How could he be?

As you must know by now, reading my diaries, there has only ever been one man for me.

It is just a shame that I am not the woman for him.

And that, therein, lies the problem.

Logically, I know I should move on from this unrequited love of mine, but I have found that it is far easier said than done. I have tried and tried, for years, to no avail.

And so, as I go into this holiday season, I have come to an important decision. I shall no longer endeavour to follow my head, but instead I shall succumb my heart. If I am made to be with this man, and 'only' this man, then so be it. I have his friendship, it is enough.

I have made my peace with that and I shall be happy.

Content.

It is rather freeing in a way. And pathetic, too, I know. But it is better than trying to be with someone else, knowing full well that I will never be completely theirs. Not when my heart belongs so entirely to another.

Love.

Such a small word for the enormity of feeling that it ignites within oneself.

Happiness, lust, longing, pain.

And hope.

For there will always be that tiny bit of me that will hold on to that, no matter what.

Well…until such time it comes impossible for me to do so any longer at least. For he 'will' find someone, I am sure of it. He is too kind, too generous, too good of a man, not to.

And I shall be happy for him.

Because I love him.

And if someone else makes him as happy as he makes me by just being my friend, then how can I not be glad for that?

But, until then, let us look to the future and the new year. What will it bring, I wonder?

Resolutions that fail within days? Probably.

Finally getting my book finished? Doubtful.

Drinking too much coffee? Definitely.

Deciding to leave my job at least twice a month but never doing so? Absolutely.

The same as this year then it seems…

Much like the New Year's Eve party that I'll be attending. It will be a marvellous affair as always. I shall be with friends that are more like family to me than my own. There will be laughter and dancing and then, as the countdown begins, I shall, as always, find myself a quiet corner or terrace or balcony – alone.

Because dear reader, in closing, let me share with you a secret that I've not confessed to any other…

At the grand old age of five and twenty, I have never been kissed at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.

Not romantically, anyway.

Just platonically by friends. After they've celebrated with their significant others and family. A quick hug. A quick peck. And yes, even by that particular 'friend' once, not so long ago. It was brief and sweet and he was so drunk, he doesn't even remember.

But I do and I hold the memory dear. A fleeting glimpse of what will never be.

Another reason I can't move on, I fear.

But let me not finish this final entry for the year in melancholy. Tis the time for good cheer, is it not?

And so, I wish you all the merriest of times over these holidays, however you do or do not celebrate and the happiest and healthiest new year.

Until then, dear reader,

Yours truly,

The Whistledown Diaries

Colin Bridgerton sat back in his chair with a huff, his mind reeling.

Along with work, he'd just spent the better part of three days reading through all the many, many posts submitted to The Whistledown Diaries blog over the past few years.

Some entries were short, a snapshot of moments in life that the writer had simply needed to get down.

Some were longer, an outpouring of feelings and thoughts so raw that they had reached out from the screen and wrapped around his heart, squeezing it tightly.

He blinked a couple of times then leaned forward and read through the last entry again.

'Because I love him.'

'He doesn't even remember.'

'Never been kissed.'

'Never been kissed.'

Abruptly, he grabbed his phone and pulled up his WhatsApp then typed out a brief message.

'I'm coming home.'

The almost immediate reply was just as succinct.

'About bloody time.'

He let out a snort at that. Too right. He was done with running. Didn't even know why he'd started in the first place. Well, no, actually, he did. He was stupid…and a coward, that's why.

He brought up another screen on his laptop and began to search for flights. He was in currently in Sicily. The latest stop on the European tour he was doing working freelance for a small travel magazine that was trying to gain a name for itself. As such they had offered him a near continuous stream of work for past several months that he had taken on without hardly having a break. He hadn't even been home for Christmas this year, settling instead for sharing a video call with his family.

It had been hard not to be there with them, but the truth was that it would've been even harder to be around Penelope when she had a boyfriend in tow. One that had seemed like a keeper considering they'd been together for nigh on seven months.

But now they weren't, according to his sister – and that blog.

He found a flight out for two days time, that would get him home the day before New Year's Eve and quickly booked it. Then he went back to the blog page and read through it once more.

After his video call with his family on Christmas day, he'd received another one from his sister, Eloise. He'd been surprised when he saw her name and wondered what could have happened in the twenty minutes or so since they'd last spoken.

"Tell me the real reason you haven't come home this Christmas," she'd said without preamble when he'd answered her call.

"I don't know what you mean. I'm working, El, I told you," he'd replied mildly.

"That's never stopped you coming home before," she'd pointed out curtly. "So why now?"

He'd faltered, not wanting to lie but not ready to admit the truth.

"I don't know what you expect me to say," he'd deflected instead.

"I expect you to tell me the truth, Colin," she'd snapped. When he'd remained silent, she'd let out a sigh and shook her head at him. "It's because of Pen, isn't it? Something happened last New Year's that made you panic and leave."

"No," he'd denied quickly. "Of course not."

"Yes, Colin, it did. You upped and left without talking to anyone and I can't help but wonder if it's because you finally realised what we've all known for years now."

"And what's that?" he'd hedged, not sure he'd wanted to know.

"That you love her, you idiot."

His stomach had dropped.

"I-I…El, that's…" he'd stammered. Faced with it said outright like that, he'd got flustered.

"Yeah, listen, while you're trying to think up a suitable denial, I'm going to send you a link."

"A link?" he'd repeated, starting to flounder as he'd tried to get his head around the sudden change of topic. "What for?"

"A blog. You should read it from the beginning."

"Eloise…"

"Just read it, Colin," she'd insisted.

"But…"

"Look, I have to go, Pen's here and we're starting game night in a minute." She'd paused and glanced to the side before looking back at him and lowering her voice. "I promised the rest of the family that I wouldn't interfere, but I can't stand quietly by any longer. She's broken up with the twat, so, get your head out your arse, read the blog and hopefully it'll stop whatever spiral you've been going down this last year, okay?"

She'd ended the call before he'd had a chance to respond for which he was grateful because he'd still been reeling from her blunt declaration that she knew that he loved Penelope.

It had been petty, but he'd not looked at the link she'd sent over until the next morning. It'd been a pointless protest that, in reality, had bothered him far more than his sister who obviously hadn't even been aware.

Once he'd finally sat down and opened it up though, it'd been like a punch to the gut. He'd known from practically the first few entries that Penelope was the 'Author'. He'd almost stopped when he'd realised, feeling as though he was intruding on her privacy…but then she'd mentioned him. At least he hoped it was him. A blue-eyed, brown-haired boy that she had a crush on. A friend. A large family where she was also friends with his sister…

Of course it was him.

It'd been a struggle at times, to see what life was like through her eyes. Her family were worse than he'd realised. Her mother, her sisters, the things they said to her. It made his blood boil.

But not as much as his own obliviousness did.

Or his own cowardness.

It shamed him that at his first realisation that he had feelings for her, he'd run. And had kept running.

That kiss that she thought he didn't remember was burned deep into his brain. Nearly twelve months later and he could still recall with vivid clarity how perfect her full lips had felt when he'd pressed his mouth to hers. How soft the curves of her body had felt in his arms. At night his dreams had tortured him with it…and more.

And yes, it had been brief, but it had also been as though a fog had lifted when they'd parted. Suddenly, all the feelings that had bubbled away under the surface that he'd either ignored or labelled as 'friendship' over the years crystallised into one word that burned bright in his heart – love.

And it had scared the bloody life out of him.

He hadn't been drunk, he'd been blindsided. The friendly kiss he'd given her because it was New Year's, had rendered him incapable of speech as his mind had whirled. He'd wanted to kiss her again. He should have kissed her again but, he'd forced a smile and walked away instead.

Not his finest hour. Not his finest anything really.

He'd gone back to his flat and booked the first flight for the following day that he could find. Zanzibar as it'd turned out. He'd sent a message to his family group chat explaining that a job had turned up that was too good to turn down and then he'd left.

He'd messaged Penelope as well. Kept it light, friendly. He'd just needed a little time to decide what to do. The next he'd heard though, she'd met a guy and was dating him. He'd been absolutely devastated. Then the magazine had contacted him and he'd been working his backside off ever since. It was a good distraction for a most part and he still kept in some contact with her, although not nearly as much as he had done in the past.

He hadn't thought she'd noticed, but reading her blog, she clearly had and now he felt the added guilt of that too.

He let out a heavy sigh and scrolled through the comments of her last entry. They were mainly supportive, mostly wishing her a happy Christmas back. Some told her to move on from him and others told her that one day he'd wake up and see what was right in front of him.

Well, that day had come and this year she was going to get kissed on New Year's Eve properly. And every damn one after that too if he had his way.

He picked up his phone again and sent Eloise another quick message.

'Don't tell Pen. Want it to be a surprise.'

She came back with a thumbs up emoji and he put his phone down. He needed to get to work. He still had a couple more restaurants and the Capuchin Catacombs in Palermo to visit before he left.

He got dressed for dinner and headed out of the door feeling happier than he had in months.

Penelope loved him and soon she would know that it wasn't as unrequited as she thought.