Author's note: this is a companion novel. Please read "No Reservations" first. ❤️

PART ONE

1995

Can you really fall in love at first sight?

I guess most people would say no . . . But I definitely did. From the very moment Iona Stewart bumped into my friend Danny on the first day of third year, I knew I was doomed.

"Sorry," she apologised to him hurriedly, jumping backwards. Before she fled the scene, I caught a flash of pink-tinged cheeks and big brown eyes, and was struck by the realisation that she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I watched her leave, her long wild ringlets flying behind her.

Who was she? I couldn't remember ever seeing her in school before but I was already desperate to see her again.

"She was cute," Danny laughed. I noticed he was still looking after her too, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to punch my best friend.

I swallowed hard.

"Any idea who she is?" I tried to keep my voice light. I didn't want my friends to know how I was feeling. I didn't really understand it myself.

He shrugged. "No idea." Fair enough. It was a big school, after all.

I was sure I'd see her again at some point - however, I hadn't been expecting her to appear at the computer next to me in my first class of the day ten minutes later. I wasn't mentally prepared for this.

Shit.

I didn't realise I'd actually swore out loud until she giggled and turned to look at me questioningly. I swallowed down another swear word, tried to think of a reason for the first one.

Tell her you forgot your pen, a little voice encouraged me. It'll explain why you swore, and give you an excuse to talk to her.

I decided to do as the little voice said, and watched as she unearthed a pile of stationery from her pencil case in response to my request for a pen. At least I didn't need to feel bad for dishonestly stealing from her stash; she could practically have started her own pen-selling business, and I told her that. The rush I felt from making her laugh again was like no other.

I didn't even know her name and I was already head-over-heels.

I had not been expecting this when I'd forced myself out of bed this morning. I wasn't even sure if it was a welcome feeling for me. Especially as I knew I'd never have a chance with her; I was certain I would not be her type.

"Iona Stewart," the teacher called, and I watched the beautiful girl raise her hand. Iona. I'm fairly certain I accidentally mouthed her first name, and desperately hoped she hadn't noticed. I found myself smiling. It suited her. I almost didn't notice the teacher called out my name next.

I really was not cool.

Which was yet another reason she would never feel the way I felt about her. She could have any guy she wanted. She was so pretty I struggled to continue to make conversation with her. But I forced myself because I wanted her to somehow notice me back. And because I was already apparently addicted to making her smile.

Over the space of the next few months, I slowly got to know her better and realised she wasn't simply beautiful, she was also nice. Sweet and funny, quick-witted and smart. And weirdly, it felt like she got me. Sometimes, in my more delusional moments, I even started to think she might be attracted to me too.

Then I'd go home and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and remember she was way out of my league.

Still, it didn't stop me craving my daily fix. Trying to look for her in the corridor on the days we didn't have class together, watching her when I spotted her in the canteen. Although the day she finally - inevitably - caught me in the act, it wasn't actually my fault; Danny was the one who had spotted her. "Isn't that the girl who ran into me that time?" He asked, nodding his head in her direction. My gaze immediately followed his.

"Yeah, that's Iona. She sits next to me in computing, actually." I tried to sound casual but Danny had known me since primary one, and was surprisingly intuitive for a 14 year old boy.

"Funny how you never mentioned that before," he said smugly. "You fancy her, right?"

Like I said, Danny knew me way too well. I'd always been a blusher - it was a curse - and my red face added to the evidence of my clear feelings for Iona. He patted me comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."

He turned his attention back to his Mars Bar and my eyes unconsciously drifted back to my unrequited crush. I don't even think I realised I was staring at her until her head shot up and she met my eyes. A small, curious smile tugged at her lips as I looked away quickly, embarrassed.

I continued to not be remotely cool as the year went on. I even bought her a fucking pen for Christmas that year. A purple gel pen, as I knew purple was her favourite colour. The minute I gave it to her, I deeply regretted it. This was not the sort of thing a classmate did for another classmate.

It was so bloody obvious I had feelings for her.

But when she said she loved it, and smiled at me, my insides warmed up with joy. I suddenly wanted to run back to that art supply shop and buy her twenty more pens, in all the colours of the rainbow, just to make her happy.

It was probably not long after the Christmas holidays when I suddenly noticed I was getting a bit more attention from girls. I'd pretty much flown under the radar before. Apparently, somewhere along the line, I'd started to become whatever girls deemed to be "good looking". Danny started calling me "pretty boy" and complained that he was going to end up being "the funny one" in our friendship (I jokingly assured him that wouldn't happen because he wasn't remotely funny).

But there was only one girl I was interested in . . . And sadly it seemed she didn't notice me like that at all.

Maybe it was finally time to try contact lenses, I decided over the summer. I'd always been a bit averse to putting things in my eyes; the idea made me feel slightly queasy. But perhaps Iona would find me more attractive without glasses? It was worth a shot, as far as I was concerned. I spent pretty much the entire holidays trying to get used to the contacts.

Only to go back to school - which had moved premises over the summer - and find myself no longer sitting next to her. In the mass confusion of first-day-new-building nerves, I somehow ended up over the other side of the classroom, wishing forlornly that she was beside me.

It was harder to speak to her now. I did try but computing was the only class we had together and I could hardly shout across the room at her. I'd often attempt to catch her after class but it wasn't always possible, and usually we were both rushing to another subject. It felt like whatever friendship we'd managed to develop over the space of third year was quickly slipping away from me.

And by the time we hit fifth year, we were no longer sharing any classes. There was no reason for us to see each other. Apart from the odd glimpse of her in the canteen or schoolyard, she may as well have no longer existed.

I wanted to retire my crush. But I couldn't. Because to me, it wasn't simply a crush. It was bigger and brighter and far more complex than that.

But then, the summer between fifth and sixth year . . . My parents separated. And everything changed.

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