Stuck with You: the perfect feel-good romantic comedy!. Carla Burgess

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СКАЧАТЬ in awe of him, just like I’ve been doing for the past two years. It’s hard though, when I’m so happy that I feel like beams of light are shooting from my body.

       Daniel takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. The slow songs have already started, and couples are swaying to the music, entwined in each other’s arms beneath the glittering lights of the disco ball. Before I even have chance to worry about how we’re going to dance together, Daniel slips his hands around my waist and pulls me close.

       ‘You’re beautiful,’ he says into my ear, and his hot breath sears my skin. My eyes flicker up to his, and I don’t know what to say, so I just gaze at him, my arms around his neck. I’m tingling all over and his eyes don’t leave mine as he bends his head. Our lips meet, warm and soft…

      ‘Elena! Elena, wake up. Have you seen my pants?’

      ‘What?’ I kept my eyes shut, not wanting to leave my lovely dream world to deal with my grumpy real-life boyfriend.

      ‘My boxer shorts. Where are they? They’re not in my drawer.’

      ‘Errrm…’ Sighing deeply, I sat up. Alex was still dripping wet from the shower, a stripy green towel around his hips. ‘I don’t know… err, wait… I washed some yesterday. Try the radiator in the lounge.’ I yawned and tried to shield my eyes from the light. He disappeared from the bedroom, reappearing moments later holding a pair of blue boxer shorts.

      ‘They’re still wet!’ he said, accusingly. ‘Elena, what am I meant to do now?’

      ‘How is it my fault?’ I said, incensed. ‘The dryer’s broken. You wouldn’t have any clothes at all if I hadn’t have washed them yesterday. What happened to you doing your own washing? You should be grateful I washed them at all.’

      ‘You’re a woman, aren’t you? You should know about these things.’

      ‘Oh, get lost, Alex. This isn’t the nineteen-fifties, you know!’

      ‘What am I meant to do now? All of my underwear is either wet or dirty.’

      ‘They can’t be that wet. Pass them here and I’ll dry them with my hairdryer.’ Alex threw them at me and busied himself styling his hair in the mirror, muttering under his breath. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I switched on my hairdryer and blasted the pants dry. They were only a bit damp around the waist band, not as wet as Alex had made out. He was such a drama queen.

      Bored with my task of blasting pants, I watched him rub gel into his short dark hair, turning his head this way and that to check it was perfect. He examined a spot close up, then caught me watching him and scowled.

      ‘I’ve got some blemish cream, if you want it?’ Switching off the dryer, I shook out the pants, testing them for dampness.

      ‘I don’t need any!’ he snapped. ‘Are my boxers ready?’

      Briefly, I considered blow-drying the crotch for a few more minutes until it was boiling hot, but decided that was probably a bit mean. ‘Yes, they’re ready.’ I tossed them onto the side of the bed nearest him, and they slipped off onto the floor.

      ‘Careful!’ he said, as though they were precious and breakable. Anger bubbled inside me and I grabbed my bathrobe and went to have a shower before I said something I might regret. Alex had been so distant and grumpy lately; we could hardly be in the same room for more than ten minutes without arguing.

      The bathroom was still steamy from Alex’s shower, and smelt strongly of his spicy body wash. His dirty clothes from yesterday were lying on the floor, right next to the wicker clothes basket. I snatched them up and stuffed them in, slamming the lid shut afterwards. He was so pedantic about some things, and yet in other ways he was just like a child. Huffing, I stepped into the hot spray and closed my eyes.

      Now, where was I…

      I tried to summon up the warm, moist pressure of Daniel’s lips on mine, but it was no good; Alex had chased it away with his bad mood, and thoughts of work and chores were closing in. I lathered up my hair, lifting my face to the spray so it could massage away my frown. Daniel was my most perfect memory; a little bit of heaven stored up from my youth. I’d had a massive crush on him throughout sixth-form college, but had been too shy to let him know. When he came over and asked me to dance at the end of the prom, it was like all my Christmases had come at once. And his kiss had been the sweetest kiss ever. I knew he was going travelling, so there was no chance we’d get together properly. Perhaps that’s why I had such good memories of him: neither of us ever had chance to disappoint the other. It was one perfect, romantic, fairy-tale moment that I could relive whenever I was feeling down. I seemed to be reliving it a lot recently.

      I pictured his shoulder-length silky blond hair, sharp cheek bones and lovely green eyes. He had a cupid’s-bow mouth that stretched into a wide, easy smile and a kissable, pudgy bottom lip. He was the coolest guy in the sixth form. Not that my best friend, Rachel, agreed, but there were plenty of girls who did think that. As the guitarist in the school rock band, he got plenty of attention from girls. I was just one of many adoring fans, and I knew there was no way he’d look at me: the shy girl from his English class, a cellist in the school orchestra.

      My cello now rested in the corner of the bedroom, gathering dust. Alex wanted me to sell it, but I didn’t feel like parting with it just yet.

      A sudden pounding on the bathroom door made me jump and Alex shouted, ‘Are you going to be much longer in there? I need to brush my teeth.’

      Annoyed, I shouted back, ‘Give me five minutes,’ and squirted conditioner into my hand.

      When I got out of the shower, Alex was pacing impatiently outside.

      ‘Can’t you eat your breakfast first?’ I asked, rubbing a towel over my hair.

      ‘I haven’t time for breakfast,’ he said, pushing past me into the steamy bathroom. ‘I’ve got a meeting this morning.’

      ‘You still need breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.’

      ‘Spare me the lecture, will you? I’ll get something at work.’ He slammed the door and I recoiled slightly before shouting, ‘I’m going to be late home tonight, remember? I’m meeting Rachel for a coffee after work.’

      There was no answer, just the sound of gushing water and the scrubbing of teeth. With a huff, I went back into the bedroom and pulled some clothes out of the wardrobe, before crossing to the mirror to run a comb through my wet hair. I heard Alex come out of the bathroom and looked at the bedroom door, expecting him to pop his head round to say goodbye, but his footsteps went on past and I heard the front door open and slam shut.

      I blinked at my reflection in the mirror. That wasn’t good, was it? I felt as empty and cold as the flat had suddenly become. He’s under pressure at work, I told myself. He’s tired and he’s stressed. But that was no reason to take it out on me.

      I got ready for work, feeling sad and deflated before the day had even begun.

      ***

      ‘So, why do you think Alex is being so funny with you?’ Rachel asked, her head tilted in sympathy.

      ‘I don’t know.’ I shook my head and concentrated on gathering granules of brown sugar from the Formica table top with my fingertip. СКАЧАТЬ