I Love Him, I Love Him Not - 11

Hey dudes & dudettes!

The next installment here for you! :)

Tom Jones: I seriously doubt it, but thanks! That was sweet of you to say.

Nessy: You may not be mad now.... but read on and you may want to smack me, never mind him. lol. x) Things are about to get a lot more interesting.....

Zeviyane: Have you ever tried writing youself? Because I'm sure, if you sort of melded all the comments you've written together, you'd get an amazing piece of writing! :)

Rachael: Ha - it'd be way less interesting if they just fell in love and that's it. The story is meant to be a fantasy romance, so there'll be a lot more magic to come! :)

Chantelle: Thank you very muchly! :) But try telling that to my teacher. lol

MINIMAN: You never fail to make me smile. Buzzle families. I like that. :)

So, without further adue, here's the next chapter!

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It was that simple.

I sighed, lay back and closed my eyes. Sleep was slow to come, but it did eventually come, and I drifted off slowly, thinking briefly about my father as my lids closed.

The morning was bright and sunny and completely the opposite of anything I was feeling. I knew it was school, and I knew I was early, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get up. My ankle felt numb, but I didn’t move it; instead, I just lay back and stared at the ceiling.

The ceiling in my room had always been cracked – something to do with a dodgy plasterer – but I had stuck up posters of all my favourite bands and actors and things, and now I stared up into the face of Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom, fresh from the sea. Quite a pleasant picture to wake up to.

And then there was Marilyn Monroe, and beside her, Beyonce, with a few Mcfly pictures scattered around. I had random things; experts from books I liked and quotes enlarged and then printed out from the school computer, and deliberate things; the lolly wrapper from the first present an eight year old Thomas had given me, the D&G tag from my first designer top, which I had long since grown out of, and the last birthday card my father had got me before he passed away.

You’re Five Today! peers down at me, in a speech bubble that is attached to an oversized bunny rabbit with a chocolate cake. Hm.

No matter how many times I had complained about the decor, or the size, or the space, I was going to miss this room. It held a lot of memories: my mother and father giggling, holding hands, and attempting to sing me to sleep with terrible but comforting voices, my father giving me a goodnight cuddle, my mother giving me a goodnight kiss.

I sat up and ran my fingers through my wildly tangled hair. There was last night’s dinner and a pair of crutches on my bed side table, along with a note.

Hey sweetie,

Maxi and I have gone to your Aunt Moira’s – she’s had a fall down the stairs, and dislocated her hip, as well as properly fractured her thigh bone. We’ll be staying there a few nights, and I’m sorry to leave you in your time of need, but you know Aunt Moira. She can hardly move as it is, poor thing. Anyway, here’s some food for you to heat up should you get hungry during the night, and Dr Smith dropped your crutches off. Use them – you won’t be able to balance properly otherwise. And hurt ankle or not, you’re going to school!

=)

Mum

P.S: I’ll give you a call later to see how you’re doing.

I smiled at the note, folded it up, and tucked it into my pyjama top pocket. Last night’s lasagne, although cold and congealing, did look tasty, so I slipped my crutches on and picked it up. Awkwardly.
And then there came a knock at the door.

"Damn." I stood there, feeling kind of helpless, when heavy footsteps sounded up the stairs. I was just getting ready to launch my plate of lasagne at the intruder’s face, when Cole popped his head around the door. "You! What are you doing here?"

He smirked and rolled his eyes at my dramatics, looking sort of gorgeous as he did so. His hair was damp, like he’d just jumped out of the shower, and his eyes were sparkling like twin pools of molten sapphire. "I thought you might need a ride." He said cheerfully.

I glared at him. "Oh. Okay. But why are you in my room?"

"I was in here all day yesterday, and I didn’t see you complaining." He grinned, opening the door and revealing his outfit of stonewashed jeans and a completely gorgeous black tee shirt that showed off the thick bands of muscles around his arms and the lovely, golden tan he seemed to have acquired permanently.

"I was drugged up on pain." I defended myself sourly. "Anyway, whilst you’re here, you might as well make good use of yourself and go heat this up. I’m famished. And don’t come into the room again – knowing my luck, I’ll probably be changing."

Cole winced. "I knew they should have sent Gwendolyn instead of me. She could have helped you with all this stuff."

I paused momentarily. "Who’s Gwendolyn?"

"My girlfriend. She’s tough, she could have handled it. But she had some stuff to do for her mother..." Cole sort of grimaced then, but I could hardly say I noticed. Two words were echoing around my head; my girlfriend, my girlfriend, my girlfriend.

The jerk had a girlfriend!

I had to admit, this kind of hurt. Okay, to tell you the complete truth, it hurt like hell. It felt like someone had sucker punched me in the stomach, and I couldn’t breathe momentarily. Damn. There’s that sappy romance novel reference again. I tell you something, those romance novels usually know what they’re talking about.

A tiny lump built in my throat and I had to swallow hard before I could speak again. And by the time I had this accomplished, I was over the hurt (well, not completely) and onto the anger.

"And did this girlfriend of yours not mind you staying here and going out with me, no matter how fake it may have been?" I spat out angrily, before I could stop myself. I knew I must have looked like a mess, but for Cole to grimace and step away from me was a bit much.

"Just get ready, your highness. Gwendolyn was fine with the whole thing. She’s an avid patriot."

"Right. An avid patriot. Me being the royalty?" I snarled, thrusting my hand through my hair not unlike the way he did. We were too alike.
"Yes, your highness." Cole replied in a tight, controlled voice. "That would be you."

And then, for the second time since I had hurt my ankle, he turned his back on me and walked away without another word.

All the angry breath gushed out of me like I was a balloon that had been set free. I felt like collapsing, but that wouldn’t have been that cleverest thing to do with a bad ankle. He had a girlfriend.

Another girl who he loved and who loved him, who was allowed to tangle her fingers through his, to stroke that soft, dark hair, to kiss those full, sweet tasting lips. I bet she was blonde. Blonde and busty, and really clever and witty and the complete opposite to plain, pathetic me.

It took me a few minutes to realise that I’d been standing there, staring at the door, for a full ten minutes.

With a shaky breath, I supported myself to the cupboard and flung the doors open. I might as well look pathetic and good. After careful consideration, I pulled on my skinny jeans and a billowy off the shoulder top. My ankle hurt a little as I tugged it through the tiny opening, but who cares? No pain – no gain.

I looked in the mirror and examined myself.

The light brown of my top set off the light brown of my eyes and the skinny jeans gave the illusion that my legs were endlessly long and flawlessly shaped. I pulled on some knee high, brown suede boots and ran a comb through my hair – it fell in calm, nice waves for once.

Just for the sake of it, I decided to wear make up, and lined my eyes with black eyeliner, which made the brown of my irises seem even browner than usual. A lick of mascara, blusher and Chap Stick later, I was done.

I re-examined my reflection and smiled. I looked good.
I picked a single, unnecessary crutch up and made my way downstairs. Cole was in the kitchen, fiddling with the microwave controls.

"Here, let me do it." I sighed, pushing him gently aside and twisting the minute knob. As the lasagne began to rotate in the small contraption, I turned to him and smiled. On my slow journey downstairs, I had decided to forgive him. After all, he had been given a job and had carried it through. He was just working.

I had no reason to be sour.

Well, okay, I had plenty of reasons to be sour, but I could take my anger out on the powers that be from Constantia. No need to become greatest enemies with the guy I would be spending the next week or so with.

"You look nice." Cole commented, looking me up and down. My transformation hadn’t moved him in any way, though, I could see. Damn. Gwendolyn must really be beautiful.

"Thanks. I decided that a princess shouldn’t wear sweats out of the house." I grinned, indicating that I was joking, and he shook his head smilingly.

"Your mood swings are going to give me whiplash." He said, taking the food out of the microwave as it pinged. I grinned.

"Sorry. I’ll try to be more mellowed out from now on. It was all just a little sudden, you know? And everything seems to be intensifying closer to my birthday… I’m just really sensitive at the moment." I explained. It felt weird to finally talk to somebody about my power as if it was normal, but was also oddly refreshing. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad in Constantia.

That is, if Constantia actually existed.

It was still a little hard to believe, even though the story seemed totally plausible.

Cole smiled a genuine smile. "Thanks. Now eat up. We have half an hour."

I obeyed happily, picking a fork up and digging into the hot, saucy assembles. Being a vegetarian, it was Quorn, and being my mother’s food, it was delicious. I smiled as the food slid down my throat, warming me from the inside.

I finished the un-breakfast-like breakfast and transferred all my school books from my black bag to my brown one. I hooked it on my shoulder and limped outside. Cole helped me the whole time, keeping an arm around my waist unnecessarily. The same electric sparks fizzed through me, but I ignored them. They were lies now. Just lies.