It Started With a Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Miranda Dickinson
until he gave me his number. Or at least his name. But I couldn’t move for a moment – I think I might have been in shock – so by the time I realised I had to go after him he’d disappeared. And now I have nothing to remind me of him other than my memory.’
Wren patted my hand. ‘Well, not exactly,’ she said, reaching into her coat pocket, producing a pink and white striped paper bag and handing it to me. ‘I thought this could serve as a memento of a momentous experience.’
Surprised, I opened the crumpled paper and slowly unwrapped the yellow tissue-papered object inside. To my utter amazement, I gazed down to see the beautiful teardrop-shaped bauble from the glass ornament stall, its tiny silver painted stars sparkling in the coffee shop lights.
‘Oh Wren, thank you !’
Wren put an arm around me and squeezed my shoulders. ‘You deserve it, sweets. Let this remind you that there is at least one amazing bloke in the city who thinks you’re beautiful – although with those sea green eyes of yours and gorgeous smile I’d hazard a guess that he’s not alone.’
I laughed at this. For as long as I’ve known her, Wren has been obsessed with the colour of my eyes, despite being one of the most amazing-looking women I know. Her own cocoa brown eyes and fiery red ringlets are stunning, but she’s always said how she’d love eyes ‘the colour of the sea in summer’, which is how she describes mine. We’re quite different in our style – Wren is every bit as flamboyant in her clothes as she is in everything else she does. Yet somehow her crazy, unique way of pairing colours together always works. If I tried to carry off some of her looks, I’d look like some kind of strange hippy, but Wren makes it look arty and gorgeous. We work well together, each a visual foil to the other. My shoulder-length hair has been several colours over the years (blonde, red and even black in my teens) but the dark blonde I’ve settled on now works best, I think. While Wren spends hours internet shopping for kooky, one-off fashions, I love my high street shops – and I know that we love each other’s style. But it’s funny how we’re never satisfied with what we’ve been given looks-wise. ‘You’re good for my ego, Wren.’
‘And you’re good for mine. That’s why you need my help to find this chap of yours.’
‘And how exactly are we going to do that?’
‘I don’t know. But we’ll think of something. Now, gorgeous kissing strangers aside, what are you going to do about Charlie?’
I shuddered as a cold shower of reality hit me. ‘I have no idea.’
‘He hasn’t called you?’
‘I haven’t answered.’
Truth be told, Charlie had been calling and texting me almost constantly since my ill-fated confession, but I just couldn’t face talking to him – not yet. Right on cue, my mobile buzzed as a text message arrived.
PLEASE talk to me Rom. Cx
‘Maybe you should call him.’
‘What would I say? I made such a fool of myself, Wren. I still can’t work out how I ever thought that saying I loved him was a good idea.’
Wren let out a groan. ‘Rom, we all thought you and Charlie would get it together one day. Everyone notices how close you two have become – I mean, even my mother and, let’s be honest, everyone knows she isn’t the brightest button in the box. So he panicked when you told him. So what? It’s understandable. After all, you did kind of spring it on him. But I’ll tell you one thing: he’s an idiot if he can’t see how perfect you are for each other. You guys have always been the Old Folks – the whole band says so.’
‘That doesn’t matter now. The Old Folks thing is officially dead.’
‘Well, it blatantly isn’t, if he’s trying to talk to you. And anyway, what about all the gigs we’ve got in the next few months? Tom said yesterday that Dwayne has finally delivered some quality bookings for next year. Whether you like it or not, we need you and Charlie to
Wren patted my hand. ‘Well, not exactly,’ she said, reaching into her coat pocket, producing a pink and white striped paper bag and handing it to me. ‘I thought this could serve as a memento of a momentous experience.’
Surprised, I opened the crumpled paper and slowly unwrapped the yellow tissue-papered object inside. To my utter amazement, I gazed down to see the beautiful teardrop-shaped bauble from the glass ornament stall, its tiny silver painted stars sparkling in the coffee shop lights.
‘Oh Wren, thank you !’
Wren put an arm around me and squeezed my shoulders. ‘You deserve it, sweets. Let this remind you that there is at least one amazing bloke in the city who thinks you’re beautiful – although with those sea green eyes of yours and gorgeous smile I’d hazard a guess that he’s not alone.’
I laughed at this. For as long as I’ve known her, Wren has been obsessed with the colour of my eyes, despite being one of the most amazing-looking women I know. Her own cocoa brown eyes and fiery red ringlets are stunning, but she’s always said how she’d love eyes ‘the colour of the sea in summer’, which is how she describes mine. We’re quite different in our style – Wren is every bit as flamboyant in her clothes as she is in everything else she does. Yet somehow her crazy, unique way of pairing colours together always works. If I tried to carry off some of her looks, I’d look like some kind of strange hippy, but Wren makes it look arty and gorgeous. We work well together, each a visual foil to the other. My shoulder-length hair has been several colours over the years (blonde, red and even black in my teens) but the dark blonde I’ve settled on now works best, I think. While Wren spends hours internet shopping for kooky, one-off fashions, I love my high street shops – and I know that we love each other’s style. But it’s funny how we’re never satisfied with what we’ve been given looks-wise. ‘You’re good for my ego, Wren.’
‘And you’re good for mine. That’s why you need my help to find this chap of yours.’
‘And how exactly are we going to do that?’
‘I don’t know. But we’ll think of something. Now, gorgeous kissing strangers aside, what are you going to do about Charlie?’
I shuddered as a cold shower of reality hit me. ‘I have no idea.’
‘He hasn’t called you?’
‘I haven’t answered.’
Truth be told, Charlie had been calling and texting me almost constantly since my ill-fated confession, but I just couldn’t face talking to him – not yet. Right on cue, my mobile buzzed as a text message arrived.
PLEASE talk to me Rom. Cx
‘Maybe you should call him.’
‘What would I say? I made such a fool of myself, Wren. I still can’t work out how I ever thought that saying I loved him was a good idea.’
Wren let out a groan. ‘Rom, we all thought you and Charlie would get it together one day. Everyone notices how close you two have become – I mean, even my mother and, let’s be honest, everyone knows she isn’t the brightest button in the box. So he panicked when you told him. So what? It’s understandable. After all, you did kind of spring it on him. But I’ll tell you one thing: he’s an idiot if he can’t see how perfect you are for each other. You guys have always been the Old Folks – the whole band says so.’
‘That doesn’t matter now. The Old Folks thing is officially dead.’
‘Well, it blatantly isn’t, if he’s trying to talk to you. And anyway, what about all the gigs we’ve got in the next few months? Tom said yesterday that Dwayne has finally delivered some quality bookings for next year. Whether you like it or not, we need you and Charlie to