When I was six, I was the only girl in my class who didn’t get a Valentine’s gift. I'd started at yet another new school because my mother had moved us halfway across the country to be with her yoga instructor, an old white guy named Bhagavaan. He was a freak, and my mother forced me to do his morning yoga classes, where he said things like;

"Breathe in through your toe nails and out through the top of your head, Lilly."

“Imagine your buttocks are flowers, Lilly, blossoming in the spring.”

“Your spine is a rainbow and it wants to be outside in the rain, Lilly. Release it. Set it free. Let it fly.”

A week before Valentine's Day, the boys' craft teacher had them make gifts for the girls. It was very sweet, one of the boys made a heart from bent paper clips and someone else made a necklace with bottle tops. Come Valentine's Day, they whipped out their respective creations, brimming with pride and accomplishment and handed them over. But they’d forgotten about me -- yes, I was new, but it still hurt. I remember standing there among the sea of shiny crafty things feeling like no one cared about me. It was also embarrassing, and I didn’t want anyone to notice, so I snuck outside and hid in the playground.

And that's how I felt right now.

It hurt that Damian regretted kissing me. It was the sharp pain of rejection, mingling with the sting of embarrassment, mixing with the dull ache of disappointment that took me right back to being that little girl who'd climbed into the colourful tunnel and cried softly to herself.

God, I felt pathetic. But I was also angry with myself for letting it get this far. I was clearly vulnerable and this was no time to open myself up to anyone, certainly not to Damian. And I didn’t even like him... did I? Whatever feelings I thought I had for him were obviously of the rebound ilk. I couldn’t afford to go there, not with Damian, not with anyone. What I really needed right now was to close all the doors and windows, lock all the shutters and retreat into a padded cell for my own safety.

I felt so alone and was overcome -- once again -- with a need to spy on Michael. I took out my phone and realised that it was flooded with messages; Mom, Dad, Val, Sue and even Stormy. I flicked through them quickly, not really absorbing much, although I did see that Stormy had cast a spell on Michael and with any luck, she said, he should have genital warts within a day or so. I logged onto Facebook and was about to go to Michael's page, when I saw I had a friend request. I clicked.

Damien Bishop.

Damien with an 'e'. I'd spelt his name incorrectly. My heart conveniently forgot that it was on lockdown and I accepted his request, went straight to his page and opened his photos.

And there he was. Beautiful Damien with an ‘e’. I got this strange feeling as I scrolled through his pictures, it was a feeling of familiarity; as if I was looking at photos of my oldest and dearest friend. But then I stopped. All the blood that usually pumped around my body drained out of me in one fast whoosh.

A photo caught my eye. It was of Damien, happy, smiling Damien, with his arm around a hot chick. She looked like his type too; she was petite and her dark hair was cut into a severe bob with a dead straight fringe. She had huge blue eyes and was dressed in black skinny jeans and a casual T-shirt with a Barbie Doll print on. Is there a shop somewhere that sells ironic T-shirts to cool people? I kept scrolling and she kept making more and more appearances. Yup, there they were in London together, yup, that’s them in front of the Eiffel Tower and yup, that looks like them having lots of fun at some party somewhere. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Damien might have a girlfriend.

Suddenly, I felt cheated on. Damien was cheating on me with some hot, skinny hipster chick. She was probably cool, but in that “I so don’t care what’s cool” kind of way. She was probably fun and rebellious and had tattoos and a nipple ring. They probably tattooed each other as foreplay. She probably didn’t even need to read Fifty Shades of Grey; she’d moved on from whips and ties years ago and was probably doing something that hadn’t even been invented yet. She and Damien probably had wild, loud, hot sex while hanging upside-down like vampire bats and listening to obscure bands that made Avant Garde Noise music on Vinyl. I continued to scroll through the pictures and she was everywhere. Wearing more ironic T-shirts, large black framed Urkel glasses and strange vintage shoes that might have been worn by a vagrant, but with the addition of knitted laces made from reclaimed wool, the look went from ‘Homeless' to 'Hipster'. But the photo that grated me the most was the one of her lying on the beach wearing a yellow polka-dot bikini, ironically. She had one of those thin, hipster girl bodies and you just knew she'd probably Instagrammed a photo of herself eating some kind of fattening Vegan treat just minutes previously.

I was so jealous of her!

The door swung open and Damien stepped out. I jumped as if I’d just been caught doing something naughty, which I had been -- I was stalking his hot girlfriend on Facebook. I had this sudden mad urge to confront him about his infidelity, but then my sanity slapped me in the face and told me to pull myself together and to shut the bloody shutters. The only reason I was still there, standing outside the club waiting for him, was that I didn’t want to attempt escaping the red light district alone -- who knew what could happen.

“Do you think you can help me get back to my hotel?” My statement was curt.

“Sure,” he said, striding out into the road. There was definitely a weird vibe between us.

I followed closely, watching him walk. I wish I hadn’t seen him half naked, because now I knew what lay beneath those clothes and this had only ignited a full-blown war in my head. My primitive reptilian brain was waging a fierce war against my logical self, fighting for control. Images of a shirtless Damien flooded my mind, and then some kind of superhero Avatar of myself jumped in and beat him up using a wooden shutter as a weapon. This went on and on until I felt positively exhausted. I tried to focus on something else, so I looked around.

There was a mangy, flea bitten cat with half a tail scrounging in a dustbin to my left, a group of Lady Boys to my right. We walked past a giant red flashing light that said ‘Girls’ and past a group of drunk, stumbling guys.

“Hey, baby.” I heard a whistle followed by a shout and turned around. One of the drunk guys had changed direction and was veering towards me, so I quickly put my head down and sped up.

“Hey, hey baby. Don’t run from me.” I could almost smell the alcohol even though he was still a few metres away.

Damien stopped walking and swung around. He wasted no time in grabbing me by the arm and pulling me behind him with such force that it actually hurt.

“Is there a problem here?” His tone was menacing, and I’d never heard it before. It clearly took the guy by surprise too, because he held his hands up in resignation.

“No problem, bru. Just trying to hello to a beautiful lady. No crime in that.”

“Well, don’t.” Damien glared at him and took an intimidating stride forward. The man stepped back.

“Hey buddy, no worries. No harm meant.” The drunken guy turned and stumbled away, but Damien carried on standing there, staring after him. I walked around and looked at him. He had a terrifyingly dangerous look on his face. His eyes were squeezed together into thin, black slits, and his face had contorted into a look that could kill. I shivered. Damien definitely had a dangerous streak, that’s for sure.

“Come,” he said forcefully, taking me by the hand and yanking hard. But this time I resisted and pulled my hand away. This handholding thing we were doing had to stop.

“What are you doing?” Anger rasped in his voice.

“I’m putting up shutters.”

Damien blinked slowly with a confused look on his face.

“I’m more than capable of walking on my own without you holding my hand.” I said as indignantly as I possibly could.

“I’m sure you are, but I’d rather you didn’t. If you hadn’t noticed, we’re not exactly in the most kosher part of town. Come.” Again, his hand came for me.

I pushed it out the way. “No!”

“Do I need to pick you up and throw you over my shoulder?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He glared at me without blinking, his poker face revealing absolutely nothing that led me to conclude he was joking.

“Why do you even care?” I started walking again, striding ahead as fast as my short legs would take me.

Damien caught up to me quickly and grabbed me by the elbow. “What are you talking about, Lilly? Of course I care. I’m not going to let some drunk guy take advantage of you. Never.”

This was killing me. I couldn’t bare to look at him and focused all my attention on a little puddle by my foot instead, “Please just get me back to my hotel.”

There was another one of those awkward moments, and I heard Damien fill it with a loud sigh.

“Do we need to talk about the kiss?” His tone was calmer and even though I wasn’t looking directly at him, I could tell his demeanour had changed too.

“No,” I said, trying to put on a brave face. “You made it perfectly clear that you regretted it and wished it hadn't happened."

“You think I wished it didn't happen?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve got it so wrong, Lilly. I don’t regret kissing you. I could never regret kissing you. It was…” He paused, “It was…" I looked up at him now and could see he was struggling to find the word, I could offer him a few; nice, great, amazing, hot?

He continued without saying it, but the implication hung thick in the air between us “And you’re so beautiful, but…” Our eyes met, “I just didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, I know you’re hurting…”

Oh my God. He thought I was beautiful.

“That’s why I’m sorry it happened. Not because I didn’t enjoy it or want it. Because I really did. Enjoy it and want it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This moment couldn’t be more perfect if I’d written the script myself. I was about to fling open all my shutters and declare that I too had enjoyed it, and I too had wanted to do it and that I would very much like to do it again, when….

“But I know it can never happen again. Ever. This is supposed to be your honeymoon for God's sake. You’ve just been through hell and I don’t want to hurt you more. So I promise that I will never kiss you again, you have my word. So…”

He stepped forward and extended his hand.

“So…friends?” He looked up and smiled at me innocently.

Hang on a moment. Let's just stop here. What just happened? We’d gone from ‘I wanted to kiss you, I like kissing you,' to 'I will never kiss you again’?

Shutters, Lilly! Shutters! Slam them now.

And so I agreed. “Friends.” I extended my hand and we shook on it. And I knew he was right, it was the right thing to do. Even though that other part of my brain was screaming at me, telling me to grab him, press him against me and kiss him; long, slow and deep.

A Tuk-Tuk drove up the street and Damien waved it down.

“Will you be okay going to your hotel alone, or do you want me to ride with you?”

“Where're you going?”

“I’m leaving in a few hours.”

My heart sank. “Where?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

"How can you not know where you're going?”

A mischievous smile lit up his face, “I’m going to this party, they just haven’t sent out the map yet.”

I shook my head at him, the information was not computing.

“Once a year they have this party. The location is kept a secret until two days before. It’s always in Thailand though, last year it was in the jungle, it took me two days just to hike there.”

“That sounds terrible,” I said, thinking about all that outdoorsy exertion and the potential close proximity to snakes and spiders.

Damien shook his head, “No it’s pretty amazing actually. It’s two days of music and partying and you meet really cool people.”

Oh wait, something about this was starting to sound familiar, I remembered Stormy telling me about these parties. “Oh, like those Black Moon parties,” I offered.

Damien 'tsked', “Nothing like those Black Moon parties. Those are for drunk jocks and teenage girls. This is much, much better. They only invite a limited number of people and you have to qualify for an invitation.”

“Ooohh," I said in a mocking tone, “So exclusive and cool, no wonder you’re going.”

And then Damien jumped up excitedly, “Hey. Why don’t you come with me?”

“What?”

“Yes, come with me.” He held up my shopping bags, “You’re basically packed already.”

“Um…” I was thinking fast. There were about a million reasons why I shouldn’t go.

“Um… what about my hotel?”

“It’s not going anywhere. You’ll be back in a few days.”

“But I can’t just go with you!”

“Who says?”

“But I don’t have any sun cream.”

“I’ll buy you some.”

“I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“I’ll buy you one.”

I was running out of reasons, “I don’t know Damien…I just don’t think I can.”

Damien deflated like a balloon. “It’s cool, Lilly. I understand. It’s a pity though.”

Being the consummate gentleman, as always, he started putting my bags into the Tuk-Tuk, but the whole action had such an air of finality to it. This was it. He was going away for a few days and by the time he got back, I’d be on my way home to South Africa. I would never see him again.

“I sent you a friend request on Facebook, so message me sometime.” He looked at me and there was no hiding his disappointment.

Should I? Shouldn’t I? Should I? Shouldn’t I? Should I? Shouldn’t I?

“Okay fine! Fine!” I quickly pulled my bags out of the taxi in case I changed my mind.

Damien’s face lit up, “Seriously?”

"Why the hell not? Caution to the wind and all that stuff, right?”

“Right.”

And then a thought hit me. “If it’s by invitation only, how will I get in?”

“Don’t worry, I know the guy who runs it.”

Of course he did.

I watched as my lift drove down the street, around the corner and out of sight.

Damien turned to me, “You’re going to have the time of your life, Lilly. I promise.”

Mmmm, that’s what I was afraid of.