"One Too Many Days"

His fist felt heavier on the second back swing, for the blood across his knuckles. Maybe it was. He planted it again at the bridge of her nose, a snap coming in tandem with the inevitable caving in of cartilage. Her frantic words had deteriorated to screams and in turn to gargles, she was swallowing blood. Her eyes were glazed and no longer finding focus... his, never so wide.

*

He stirred, feeling his arm lying across her curvaceous body. He was almost comfortable, except for that rough feeling you get only after the worst of dreams. He ventured to open his eyes. Slowly and tiredly, he hoped he would see his wife sighing in her sleep, her blonde hair billowing upon their pillows and her overly-comfortable nightgown draped over her small frame. She felt different to him…

And the dream had started out so well;

He’d woken up and flown through an average day of scouring the internet when he should have been working, and taking far too many breaks. It seemed so real, so mundane.

Then, as he got into his car, he now remembered feeling as though he’d lost many hours of that ‘day’. Now awake, he reasoned that that was fine – it was a dream afterall. He could have skipped days and it wouldn’t have been more than seconds in reality. He found himself easing a little.

He’d been stuck in traffic, which he vividly remembered. Even now, though it was fiction to him, he felt his heart start to race with pure road rage… but he was in bed. He was holding his wife… His oddly rigid wife…

He’d watched the traffic lights flick from green to amber to red to amber to green, over and over. It had enraged him to see them change but get no nearer. He was stuck. It was such a trapped feeling that he remembered wishing he’d driven off into the sea, just for some personal space.

One word popped to mind that almost made him smile – Freud. What could this dream mean? It was the first time he’d dreamed in months. It had to be…

He was running out of petrol, and patience had long since gone. His hands throttled the steering wheel. A sharp fear hit him between the eyes, accompanied by awful images. Images from later in the dream…

He finally made it to the petrol station and the decrepit old oaf behind the counter only made his heart race more and his anger build. He didn’t want to even attempt appeasing his hunger there to be served by that man. He’d go to the corner shop on the way home…

And so suddenly he found himself there that he finally felt convinced it had all been a dream. He let out a slow sigh and nestled into the woman by his side, momentarily forgetting that he wanted to open his eyes to see her. She smelt different – a kind of nice different.

The corner shop was cold and cramped as usual. Being run by two older women, taking it in turns, the shop easily undercut everywhere else for price. No one cared that the two old biddies opened multipacks of everything and sold them separately to get their small margin. It was fine. They had a good business going, but one lady still had to live in the shoddy apartment upstairs.

With barely enough room to move, he remembered wanting some crisps, but as he reached them, fingering their crumpling packets, he decided that it would drive him insane. He turned to the fridge for a drink.

“You alright there, love? Looking for anything in particular?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he gritted his teeth.

He heard her smile, which just made him feel worse. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Wasn’t it enough that this happened every single day, grinding into his mind, wearing down his constitution, making him a batty old man before his time? Now he had to endure it in his sleep too? What did he do to deserve this?

He squeezed her body closer to him, wanting her warmth, but finding none. At the same time, he squeezed his eyes tighter, making it darker, but scarlet images flash brighter… He would get to those in a moment, his subconscious droned, throwing him back to the counter of the shop.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he forced himself to answer.

“And how’s-”

He hadn’t heard the rest of the question. She’d already asked enough questions for him to lose sight of what he was doing. Enough questions for him to lose what little patience he had left. Enough questions for him to want to scream…“ENOUGH!”

The lady jumped, startled into silence. Normally he would have mumbled an apology, but it had gone too far this time. He’d lost himself.

The woman’s heart throbbed in her chest, her breathing disjointed as she tumbled backwards into the shelves of chocolate and sweets. The cigarettes tumbled into messy piles at her feet and she sobbed loudly. He didn’t know he was jumping over the counter until he landed with a thud.

“What’re you doing?!” the woman whimpered, her throat compressed by a large, now purple hand. All the blood in his body now pulsed with releasing rage. He made no answer.

She could no longer stand. It wasn’t long before she slumped into the corner, hidden from view, the night closing in over them as he planted the first heavy blow upon her skull, followed closely by his other hand. The first took aim again.

His fist felt heavier on the second back swing, for the blood across his knuckles. Maybe it was. He planted it again at the bridge of her nose, a snap coming in tandem with the inevitable caving in of cartilage. Her frantic words had deteriorated to screams and in turn to gargles, she was swallowing blood. Her eyes were glazed and no longer finding focus... his, never so wide.

And that’s where he’d woken. He had no more to remember. All he knew now was that his head was throbbing and his heart was in his throat. He felt inexplicably awful as he kissed the temple of his wife and slowly opened his eyes.

Breathing heavily, he huffed hair from his face and blinked. It was dark. Why was that a surprise?

He shivered a little and felt, for the first time, that he was uncomfortable. He was lying on something hard.

He blinked again. What he saw made his heart stop. There was blood dripping silently onto the floor between himself and the woman. Not his wife, but the shopkeeper. Images flashed before his eyes, but none more disturbing than this.

He threw himself off her, turned around and immediately vomited onto the wooden floor behind him. All thoughts of hunger drained from him in an instant. He wanted to die.

Death… It now took a whole new light in his mind. He sprang to his feet, feeling like he would just collapse back to the floor, he tumbled to the door of the shop. The day had lost all light, so he must have been unconscious for many minutes. He didn’t even care that someone might have already seen them. All he could think of now was; what do I do? I can’t be caught here like this.

He locked the door and left the light off. ‘Good’, he mumbled, ‘looks like we’re closed.’

He would never have imagined doing this… what the hell was he thinking? But he wasn’t himself. He wasn't thinking.

He closed the single curtain and, trying his best not to look at her he took her limp arms and dragged her to the door that joined the shop and the apartment together.

He found himself at the opening of the bathroom door, so, having read it somewhere, he dragged her in.

Struggling to get her in the bath, he found a knife.

Soon enough, after cutting and tearing bones, skin, muscle and soul apart in the flowing water, he wiped his brow. He couldn’t remember what had happened next in that story, or even what story it was.

He cried over the body.

He didn’t know what to do next… Then a sudden knock came at the door… It was over.

No time for the tell-tale heart. It was over.

"Reunion"

She was the one that got away. The one person that got me through the cold, dark, lonely nights on the front-line. Her thick blonde hair, curled to perfection around her sculpted face, and her dark blue eyes that called out to me across the seas. I couldn't wait to hold her Betty Grable figure in my arms, and tell her that she'd been the only one. Her full lips played on my mind, as I remembered the way she talked – her accent strong, but to remove it, would be to take something integral from her.

She was still in school when I left, but she would be a working woman now, if I knew her at all. I could picture her, with dungarees, and dirt on her button nose. Her curves would be accentuated by the denim, but she'd look even better after-hours, when she slip into the red dress I'd imagined for the past two years.

I had avoided all thoughts that she would be with another man – that I'd missed my chance – but now I was on home soil, and I couldn't help but wonder. She'd always had a soft spot for the bigger men, and I'd grown since I'd left. My arms were so much bigger now, and I could imagine picking her up off the ground as I hugged her.

I think about her slender legs, being shown as I set her back down. I envisage her womanly fingers, her red-dress-matching nails, as her hands fit perfectly into mine. I imagine the touch of her soft skin, but am only reminded of the raggedness of my own war-torn hands and face.

I wonder if she'll like me? I know she did, briefly, before I left. But I was different then. Now, I was messed up, bloodied and broken.

She's late. A mutual friend of ours set a date, time, and place for us to meet. I hadn't been able to get hold of her easily, so I asked someone I knew she would see. It was hard to get back into normal life. In the army, if you needed someone, you went to your superior, and they sorted it... unless it was too hard.

“Hello!”

I jumped from my thoughts, as I rounded to see her. My dreams were shattered as I laid my eyes upon someone I'd never known. My arms ached at the thought of lifting her into that hug. Her sculpted face was rounded, and her chin had never been pluralised in my mental imagery. Her deep blue eyes were sunken into a face I didn't recognise. Had she always been this way?

“Hello,” I forced out, as I remembered the smirk on our friend's face when I'd asked about her.

Her legs were stubby, and she literally wobbled towards me. I involuntarily took a step backwards, but she didn't seem to notice.

“You look well!” she announced, pulling me into her voluptuous, yet unappealing bosom.

I coughed a little as I tried to return the sentiment. I honestly couldn't form words in my own head, let alone out in the world. Had my stupid mind created that goddess woman from this?! Or had she been much more beautiful two years ago?

She was wearing a blue dress, that enveloped her curves, accentuating them in a way that was not flattering. Her lips, which had once been something I longed for, now crashed unwaveringly onto each of my cheeks.

As she stood back and took my image in, I looked at her, and in her smile, I saw the woman I used to know... but this would take some getting used to...

"Funny But It's True"

“I could stay here for the rest of my life.”

“Funny you should say that,” George's voice drifted to me on the breeze.

“Why?”
“I was just thinking exactly the same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

It was just the two of us tonight, relaxing, underneath an apple tree near The Home Farm. Our stomachs were full, and we were tired from a busy day. We lay, side by side, with the backs of our hands brushing against each other. We stared into the orange-pink sky. The sun was setting beautifully.

“Christ, I'm relaxed!” George exclaimed dramatically.

I laughed heartily, and nodded to myself, “Me too.”

George chuckled quietly, and the untroubled chirping of evening birds replaced our voices as the only sound. When I leaned up on my elbows, I could see the lights of the house flicker on, as daylight died away slowly. They would probably be splitting off into the bedrooms by now. I looked over, to see George watching me curiously.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he shook his head gently, but continued to watch me.

“What?!” I giggled.

“Nothing!” he laughed too.

I shook my head, with a smile, and returned to looking over to the house. I loved this place – you could always be yourself here, and no-one would accuse you of being weird or whatever. There was always something going on, be it something as simple as dinner conversations that changed from the Royal Family, to pigs and cows, or something as dramatic as Bill and Mary's upcoming wedding. I loved this place like it was my own home.

“Ever thought about living somewhere like here?” George asked.

“What?” I smiled confusedly.

“Have you ever thought about living in a place like our house?”

I thought about it. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Even with all the crazy people?”

“It wouldn't be the same without you all.”

“So you could put up with living with me?”

Again, I thought about it. I didn't think about whether I could “put up” with him, but I thought about what it would be like to live with him. I imagined coming home at the end of the day, and him being there to greet me. My mind wandered instantly to him coming over to me, kissing me in greeting, and leading me further into our own home. I dreamed that we would eat together, talk, and laugh. And I imagined what our bedroom would look like, and how it would feel to lie by his side as he slept peacefully. My hand twitched against his, and I was back in the real world...

“I'll take that as a 'no' then?” he asked, laying back down, staring at the sky.

“You can take it as a 'yes', George,” I muttered.

“What took you so long to answer?” I could hear the amusement in his voice.

“It's not something you can just answer!” I teased. “Would you be able to live with me?”
“Yes,” he answered, with no hesitation.

I sat up, and looked down at him, my brows furrowed into a questioning look.

“Have you seen who I already have to put up with?” he laughed.

I laughed too, punching him gently in the arm, before curling my legs under me, and reaching my arm across his body, to lean over him. “Seriously though, why did you ask?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Because you fit in so well – you're one of us.”

A moment passed as we both pondered this.

“And I'd miss you, if you ever left.”

I laughed at this, because although I didn't live with them, I might as well. I was often there when George woke up, and he would often walk me home late at night.

“I'm not going anywhere,” I smiled, giving him a reassuring pat on the chest, as he looked up into my eyes.

We sat there for several seconds, just looking at each other, both of our eyes glinting with the smiles that never left our faces when we were together.

“You know,” George sat up, and put one leg either side of me, so our bodies were close and facing each other. “Mum thinks you should move in.”

“Really?” I felt confused, and a little frustrated that he'd said his mother had thought of it.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged.

My heart sank a little.

“I mean,” he hastily added, no doubt seeing my disappointed look, “I'd love to live with you! Like I said, I don't know what I'd do if you left! But...”

“But?” I asked, willing him to continue.

“Mum thinks it's because we'd stay up all night, talking.”

I gave a short laugh, “We probably would.”

“And we'd probably have to share a room, so we could fall asleep talking.”

My heart skipped a beat, “Yeah...”

“But we can't do that, because, you know..."

I nodded to myself, hoping that that could one day be true, regardless.

“Mum's completely against the idea.”

"But it was her idea?"

"I lied about that..."

“So, what do you think? Whose idea was it?”

The sky darkened around us. I placed my hand gently on his arm, as he faced down thoughtfully consumed by the movements of his own hands. His soft, mischievous eyes looked slowly back up at me. I smiled, as I did every time I saw his face.

“It's funny...” he said.

“What is?” I asked when he didn't proceed.

“It's funny, but it's true. All those things I said... they're all great!”

I thought about it. It would be wonderful to stay up with him, just talking into the darkness. It was my dream to have conversations with him into the small hours, then fall asleep with him. I couldn't think of a better life.

I nodded, grinning to myself.

“But Mum...”

I nodded again, but this time, with less of a smile.

The hand that rested in my lap suddenly felt warmer, as his hand gently pressed on top of it. His fingers slipped over my skin, making me shiver, before he grabbed my hand in his, and squeezed. I looked at him.

His face was one of determination and thought. A moment of silence passed as he searched my face, and I let him.

“You're freezing!” he said suddenly, holding my hand up.

I hadn't noticed that we were in almost complete shadow, and the light summer sun had left us to grow cold. He tore his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders, hugging me into him. I uncurled my legs, and sat up on my knees, so I could get closer. 

“Thank you,” I whispered into his ear. I felt him shiver as my breath kissed his neck. I wanted to press my lips there, so much so that I felt myself moving involuntarily towards him. He held me tighter, and placed his chin on my shoulder. I cuddled into him, and he curled his long legs around me. I was warm, content, and settled perfectly in his arms.

“We fit together,” he muttered.

Again, he knew what I was thinking.

“Funny you say that,” I giggled softly.

“Funny, but true,” he rubbed my back, making my skin tingle with excitement. “What time do you want to go home tonight?”

“I don't.”

“You don't?”

“No, I don't want to go home tonight,” I asserted.

He moved us, so he could look into my eyes, “Where do you want to go?”

“Nowhere. I want to stay here forever.”

He laughed lightly, and kissed my forehead. “I knew you wouldn't leave.”

I kissed his cheek in return. “I don't think I ever want to go home now.”

“Good,” he replied, stroking my hair. “This is your home now.”

“What about your mum?”
“What about her?”

“What will she think?”

“She'll have to get used to the fact that regardless of what she thinks about unmarried men and women staying together, I want you to be with me all the time. Day and night.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“This is a massive step!”

“You know,” he thought aloud, “we've never done anything in order.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Bill and Mary dated first, then kissed, now they're getting married, and they'll move in together after that...”

I was dumbfounded. “W-what do you mean?!”

“Well, if we move in together, we're doing it all wrong!”

Birds sang in our brief silence.

“You feel like that..?”

“Don't you?” he asked, bewildered.

I almost cried as I realised he'd assumed I'd know about his feelings.

“You've never...”

“What?”
“You've never shown any kind of...”

“What are you talking about?! I've always shown you how much I care for you! I spend everyday with you. I walk you home every night. I get sad every time we say goodbye, and it makes my day every time you smile! I thought you knew?!”
“No!” I laughed.

His face dropped, “I thought you felt the same...”

“Just because I didn't know how you felt, doesn't mean I haven't loved you for years!”

We both stopped, mouths open, as we realised what I'd said.

“You love me?”

I nodded, scared, but reassured by what we'd said so far.

I felt his hands on either side of my face, as he lovingly, yet hungrily kissed my lips with the passion I'd always longed to feel from him. I kissed back just as urgently. Our bodies pressed against each others', and he held me tighter than he ever had before. His touch felt different, as though he was no longer afraid to hold me, to feel me. I touched his skin, his arms, his face. We broke for air, but I couldn't catch my breath.

“I love you,” he muttered against my lips, as his forehead rested on mine.

“I love you too,” I smiled, breathing heavily, but I didn't care.

It was funny how long it had taken us to realise what we had. It was funny that neither of us really knew what we were feeling until that moment. It was funny that we'd both hoped it would happen for such a long time before it did. And it was funny that it had come about in such a strange, kind of pathetically longing way... As George would have said... Funny, but it's true.

"Danny, Jack And I"

“Tom, I don’t care who you bring, I just want you to be on time, please?” I was practically pleading down the phone now. “Yes, of course Danny can come. So what if he doesn’t have a girl? I thought Harry was single too? Martha?! Ha! Okay, yeah, if you say so love. See you. Six! Please come on time? I realise it’s only a couple of friends ‘round for a chat and a film, but come on love, give me a break? Thank you. See ya later. Bye.”

*

“Alright?” Tom smiled at me in the doorway.

“Ten past – not bad, Tom. Close enough anyway.”

“Blame Danny!”

“Danny, I’m blaming you!” I had only met Danny once before, but we really got on well, so I could instantly display my humour.

He gasped in mock shock and I led the three of them (Tom, Danny and Tom’s girlfriend Joanna) into the living room. Harry and Martha were flirting mercilessly in the kitchen.

“Film time!” I called and everyone assembled on the chairs and floor. Everyone had paired up, leaving Danny and I to sit together.

*

“This is awful!” Danny exclaimed.

“It is pretty bad,” I laughed, agreeing. “Anyone want to put a different one on? Or should we not bother?”

“Let’s not bother…”

“Okay. How’s the building coming along?” I asked my architect/builder friends.

“Good, thanks! It’d be awesome if you’d come and see it one day…” he blushed slightly, “I mean, Tom says you’re interested in that kind of stuff…”

I blushed too and nodded, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

By now, everyone else was having their own little conversations, totally uninterested in us.

“So…” I giggled.

“What?” he smirked, seeing my awkwardness.

“Everyone seems paired off, that’s all.”

He laughed, “They do, don’t they? Have you…?”

“Have I?” I questioned, then understood, “Oh, no!” I giggled, “Not at the moment… You?”

“Nope.”

“Fancy anyone?” he asked playfully: suddenly feeling childish and nudging me.

“Um…” I mumbled, giggling and undoubtedly scarlet.

“Ooh…” he smiled, “Who is it then?”

What was I supposed to say? I could hardly tell him that during only our second meeting I had started falling for him..?

“Jack,” I invented wildly, deciding to mess with him.

“Who’s this Jack fellow then?” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh, he’s dark, handsome and very loving.”

“Yeah? What does he do?”

“Oh… different things… you know, this and that.”

“Great,” he looked around the kitchen, being polite about the huge idiot I was being.

“Mhm.”

“So, are you interested in anyone?”

“What?” he asked, as if caught of guard, “No, no, not me.” I could tell he was lying, but at least it was better than my lie.

*

“Who’s this Jack then?” Danny asked Tom randomly.

“Jack who?”

“This Jack she loves so much,” he poked me. I cringed because Tom knew exactly who Jack was.

“Jack? You love a Jack?” He noticed my blush and grinned, “Oh, that Jack?!”

I nodded sheepishly.

“Who is he?” Danny asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“I’m not saying.”

Without a moment's thought for me, Tom ruined it, “I’ll tell you… follow me.” Danny shrugged and followed Tom to my bedroom. “If you want to see him, he’s in there…”

“What?! Why isn’t he downstairs with the rest of us?!”

“You’ll see.” Tom chuckled, winking at me. I cowered behind a plant on the landing.

“He’s not dead or anything, is he?”

“Just go and look,” Tom opened the door and shoved Danny in.

“You git!” I breathed at Tom.

“Love you too,” he breathed back and we heard Danny burst into laughter.

We entered my room and Danny said, “I see what you mean, he’s dark, cute rather than handsome, I would say, and he is certainly loving!”

My little black puppy licked Danny’s nose as he held Jack in a hug.

“It was a joke, Danny,” I tried to explain.

Danny just laughed and replied, “This mean you’re free?”

*

“Tom? Tom?!” Harry shouted at Tom, who was so, um, interested, should we say, in Joanna, that he hadn’t noticed that everyone was now staring at him. “Tom?!”

“What?!” he asked, exasperated.

Everyone just laughed.

Ignoring the fact that he received no answer, he continued, “Right, Jo and I are off home now…”

Danny wolf-whistled and I couldn’t help but giggle. Tom and Joanna got up and left, everyone saying goodbye.

*

“Oh, crap!” Danny stopped suddenly. We were now the ones in the kitchen, while Harry and Martha flirted some more on the sofa.

“What?” I giggled at the face he was pulling.

“I’ve just realised something.”

I stopped putting the lemonade in the fridge and looked at him, listening.

“Tom’s gone.”

I openly laughed, “Yeah…?”

“How am I going to get home? He was my ride!”

“Damn,” I laughed.

“It’s not funny!” But he couldn’t help laughing himself.

“It’s fine. I have a car.”

“You mean you’ll take me home?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Thanks.”

*

After Danny and I explained to the others, who obviously laughed at Danny, Harry announced that he too was leaving. He stood up.

“Martha, where are you going?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, I’m going home too. Harry is giving me a lift.” I couldn’t help but notice their entwined hands.

“Okay...” I winked, laughing.

“Night.” Danny added, “You kids have fun.”

Harry scolded us and left with a heavily blushing, but ever so happy Martha.

“I’ll get my stuff and you can take me home then!” Danny smiled cheekily.

“Indeed,” I answered with a sigh; I knew he had left the room.

*

“Ready when you are!” he grinned.

“Good! Jack’s coming with us, if you don’t mind?”

“’Course not, I love Jack.” He spoke in a baby voice at my excited puppy.

“I think he likes you too,” I smiled as we made our way to the door.

I opened the door and glanced out at the car. It was only little (and old) but it did the job…

“Danny?” I moaned miserably.

“Yeah?”

“Look at this.”

I felt Danny’s chin on my shoulder, and little Jack tug on the lead.

“Oh…” was all Danny could say.

“Yeah… I don’t think a massive and sudden thunderstorm is the best weather to go out in… do you?”

“No, not really.”

“Where do you live?”

“About 10-15 minutes away.”

“Damn. Well, you’re not walking home.”

“And you’re not driving?”

“Nope.”

“So?”

“So, Mr Danny, it looks like you’re staying the night.”

*

“DVD?” I asked, waltzing into the room and seeing Danny and Jack, comfortable on the sofa.

“If you like. Just not that awful one from earlier!”

“Gah, I know, I was really bad, sorry!” I giggled, “Blame Joanna though; it was her idea.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

I smiled and put the Back To The Future on.

*

“This is much better!” Danny announced halfway through the film.

“Yeah, I love these films!” I sat on the armchair, with my legs tucked under me, while Danny half sat, half lay on the sofa, with Jack on his chest, fast asleep.

“You two look cute like that, you know?” I giggled.

“Do we?” Danny laughed, trying not to disturb Jack.

“Yeah, and he really does like you. He’s not usually so friendly – he’s a wimp normally!”

“Aw!” he grinned.

*

A loud crack of thunder made me jump out of my skin and Danny laughed.

“Hey! Not funny.” But I giggled a little too.

“Scared?”

“Yes, actually.”

Another loud bang and Jack jumped too. “And he is, look,” Danny pointed at the cowering dog, now down by his side, squished between Danny and the cushions.

“Jack?” I called him, “It’s alright, love.”

The dog just looked at me. I smiled and made my way over to them. Danny moved his legs and I sat, with Jack between us.

I whispered, “It's okay, Jack,” as I stroked his head calmly. Jack seemed to relax.

“I wonder if that’ll work for you?” Danny joked. He moved the dog out of the way, flung his arm around me, and whispered reassurances in my ear.

His low and hushed voice sent shivers down my spine and funnily, I did calm down considerably.

We settled in each other’s arms to watch the rest of the DVD.

*

Danny yawned loudly as we lay on the sofa together.

I smiled, still cuddled with him, “You can sleep in the spare room, it’s a little cramped, but it’s all yours.”

“Aw, but I’m comfy,” he moaned.

“Me too, to be honest.”

He squeezed me tighter to him and chuckled, resting his head on mine, “You’re cosy.”

“So are you.” I couldn’t resist the sudden urge to run my hand across his chest.

He sighed contentedly and I closed my eyes.

Danny suddenly sniggered.

“What?”

“I was just thinking.”

“’Bout what?”

“Well, we hardly know each other, but I think I… Never mind.”

“Don’t do that, Danny.”

“What?”

“I hate it when people say ‘never mind’.”

“Oh.”

“So…?”

“Well… please don’t get angry or anything?”

“Promise,” I beamed at his blushing face and innocent, pleading eyes.

He smiled too and gently but quickly pressed his warm lips to mine. I was shocked as he pulled away and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I tried to speak, but no words came out. Danny looked a little confused until I rested my hand on his neck and smiled once more. He knew how I felt, but I had to prove it, so I rushed my lips back to his to once again feel the bliss of shivers and tingles that surged through my body.

“I know it’s early, babe,” Danny whispered against my lips as the kiss ended, “But this is all so… right.”

I nodded.

We kissed and cuddled for hours – well into the early morning, before falling asleep in each other’s arms. We didn’t move from the sofa, and Jack made himself comfortable with us. The storm calmed a little but with every crack of thunder I jumped, squeezing my new love even harder, at which he chuckled every time.

We all fit so perfectly – Just Danny, Jack And I…

"Shades Of Grey"

“Do you have a moment, Professor?” Jolene asked, through the classroom door. The university had been closed for over half an hour, but she knew Professor Henderson would still be there.

“Of course,” he answered slowly. He was unemotional, cold, distant, and completely enchanting.

Jolene slipped quietly in, with a vial of greyish-blue liquid.

“Did you want something, Professor Moore?”

“I've told you to call me Jolene,” Jolene blushed.

“Yet you continue to call me Professor Henderson..?”

“Okay, Charles. I just came in to ask your opinion on something.”

Henderson looked up from the essay he was reading, and gave a crooked half-smile. “Go on...”

“This,” Jolene held up the vial. “I can't quite get it to the right colour. It always comes out some shade of grey.”

“What is it?” Henderson asked, standing and striding towards her.

“Draught of Peace. It cures anxiety, and calms nerves,” Jolene continued, just in case Professor Henderson was unaware – although he should have been, he'd been a teacher at this magical university for several years longer than herself.

“Ah, I am familiar with it,” he nodded, looking more closely through a snake-encircled magnifying glass. “Have you made sure of your measurements?”

“Yes, but I've been experimenting a little.”

“What have you changed?”

“Well, instead of adding powdered newt, I ground it less finely. I thought that if I increased their potency, the draught would have a more profound affect on some of our more anxious students, nearing the time of exams.”

“You give this to students?”

“I will, if it works out. And I have two weeks to perfect it.”

“You will,” Henderson said quickly, turning away. “I think you may need to adjust the quantity of the moonstone, to counter your changes. That's what is causing the greying.”

“Thank you!” Jolene beamed, having hoped he would have such simple advice. “Can I try it out in here? You can keep an eye on it then, and let me know if you have any ideas?”

“You're a teacher at one of the best magical universities in the world, Jolene. I don't think you need my help.”

“But aren't you lonely?” Jolene asked, without being able to stop herself.

“I'm sorry?” Charles asked in disbelief. She had never been so forward before – she had always treated him more with respect and admiration, but while these things still remained, her longing to be near him had overridden her desire to keep things professional.

“You must be lonely down here, all alone, all day.”

“I go to the hall to eat, and this place is thriving with ignorant young people all day. How could I be lonely?”

“I love the students, but sometimes they aren't the best company,” Jolene admitted.

“I thought you were one of the professors that students could always go to?”

“I am, but that doesn't make them my best friends. It doesn't mean I want them all to be in the rest of my life.”

“Very well,” Henderson answered, returning to his desk. Jolene could have sworn she'd seen a small smile grace his thin lips.

“Do you have a silver cauldron I could borrow, please, Charles.”

He nodded, and stood again. Pointing his hand towards one of the cupboards, he silently charmed the cauldron onto the desk in front of Jolene.

“Thank you.”

Without further hesitation, Henderson also produced each of the ingredients Jolene would need, as well as the equipment, such as scales, a knife and pestle and mortar.

“Thank you,” Jolene repeated softly. She couldn't help but stand there, admiring Henderson's intelligent, effortless use of magic. His mind was one that she could never figure out. He had so much knowledge, and she knew that he was capable of so much more than even she had seen. Charles' eyes led into a much deeper being – someone that was so incredible, she knew she'd never be in his league.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, with a slight smirk.

Jolene snapped herself out of her thoughts, and realised that she'd been staring at him. “No,” she muttered quickly, setting up her things and starting on the potion. Then and there, she decided that she would have to do something about all of this. Her life, for the past several years, had been such a mixture of ups and downs, that she could hardly tell what she was feeling half of the time. She'd gotten the job at the school, which was such a good feeling, but equally she was filled with dread that she wasn't doing well enough. She still often got frustrated when students refused to concentrate, but she knew that that would pass in time. She'd made so many new friends, but with all her work, and her drive to create and change potions, she barely had time to see them... she felt that she was overwhelmed. She felt the same as this potion – monochrome, only shades of grey.

But the worst thing was, that she didn't really care about any of that. She worked with her friends, and she saw them often. She had successfully recreated an ancient potion that repelled certain magic. Her students were doing brilliantly, despite their lack of caring for the serious stuff. She was doing well, and everyone was proud of her. No, the one thing she did care about, was sat across the room, marking students' essays. Why couldn't he be straight with her? Why couldn't he see that she was making the effort? Why couldn't he just see what she was trying to be for him?

As Jolene ground the quills of owl feathers, she thought to herself. She decided – this had gone on for too long. Today was the day, one way or the other. She wondered briefly about whether she would have to transfer schools if this all went wrong, but then she swiftly pushed that thought aside. It didn't matter. She wanted to either have him, or at least have an answer, so she could get on with her life. He had the power to bring colour back into her life.

An hour or so passed in silence, as Jolene worked on her potion, as well as her plan. Charles simply read through several essays, tutting and groaning quietly to himself every now and then.

As darkness fell around the university, the room dimmed into an impressive orange. Henderson looked at the time, then up at Jolene.

“Am I right in thinking that your draught should be done soon?”

“Yeah,” Jolene smiled tiredly. So far, it had been the same as before.

“How is it coming along?”

“There's not much of a difference to the last one,” she sighed.

Henderson took a long look at the potion, before nodding to himself. He raised his hand, brushing Jolene's arm gently with his own as he increased the flame under the cauldron. “That should help,” he added, after muttering the incantation for the fire. “The larger pieces probably need more heat to dissolve into the liquid.”

Jolene felt the heat rising in her cheeks, too, as she thought quickly about her next move.

Henderson paced over towards one of his many colourful shelves, and pulled down a half-filled phial. He flicked his hand over it, and the red-purple liquid that once bubbled within, vanished. Meanwhile, Jolene had stirred the potion seven times, clockwise, and once anticlockwise. It started changing colour immediately.

“Here,” he said, pouring the now blue liquid into the phial. “This is thicker glass than yours. It should keep some of the heat in, even when the draught is ready, so it doesn't solidify.”

To thank him, Jolene pressed her hand against him arm, to turn his body to face hers. She looked into his usually cold eyes, to see a sparkle of amused curiosity, among something she couldn't quite define.

She pulled him into a hug, standing on tip-toes to rest her head on his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his chest, and for a moment, they stayed like that.

“Thank you,” she softly whispered against his neck. The hairs there stood on end, as her cool breath brushed the surface. Suddenly she felt a mild, cautious touch on the small of her back, and Charles began to hug her back. Nothing was said, because neither one fully understood what was happening, but as Henderson's hug went from one hand, to two, they didn't need to say anything. His hands slid around her body and up her back, so he was holding her as tightly as she was holding him.

“What is this?” Charles asked lowly, after a while.

Jolene gave a short laugh, and moved to look into his eyes, “It's a hug.”

Henderson shook his head, and Jolene brushed hair from the side of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I meant why are you hugging me?”

Jolene considered her answer carefully. “Because I'm grateful for all the things you've done for me. You've helped me with this, but also, with so much more. You've been such a comfort to me,” she added, still in his loose embrace, “showing me around the school, teaching me how to stay calm with the students. I owe you so much, and you're so brilliant.” There was a slight pause, as she watched nervously for any reaction. His face had barely changed, but he looked somewhat dumbfounded. “I admire you, Charles,” she whispered lightly. She placed her shaking hand upon his cheek, cupping his face. “More than you'll ever know.”

He closed his eyes again, and pressed against her hand. Jolene closed her eyes, too, and rested her head carefully upon his shoulder once more. Her thumb slowly stroked his skin, and she felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her body closer to his.

Jolene took a deep breath, and a content moan slipped her lips, almost soundlessly. But in the silence of the dungeon, there was no doubt that Charles had heard it. He squeezed her tenderly. She could feel that it had been a long time since someone had held him so lovingly. She took another deep breath, and upon realising that this had gone better than she could ever have imagined, she decided that she would take this all the way. She had to tell him exactly how she felt, because she couldn't bare to be this close now, for it just to go back to normal tomorrow.

She breathed against his neck, “I think I love you, Charles.”

She felt his breathing stop for a moment. The time she waited was the scariest of her life. She took her head guardedly away from his shoulder, and looked into his eyes. He stared at her, blank-faced for another moment or two.

Jolene's mind raced, thinking of other schools she could work at. Two weeks until exams – maybe she could last that long. Maybe she would just leave for the summer, and never return?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the tender touch of lips upon hers. She had been so worried that he wouldn't react, that she hadn't seen him lean in. His sensitive contact against her needing body and lips made her melt within his arms. She pressed back against him with all the effort she could muster, though she felt weak. Her hands slipped into his hair, and he gently bit her lower lip. She moaned into the kiss.

She knew that this kiss was the one she needed. The man she held so close now, would be the man she would hold close forever. She could finally see all the layers of the love of her life. She could see how caring and gentle he could be. His kiss was soft, and loving. Not at all what she would have expected.

They broke for air, and searched each others' eyes. It was like Jolene could see in colour again.

“Jolene,” he said her name for the first time, with warmth. Nothing else was said. She knew he'd had a difficult past with love, from the way he held her, so she knew that he would never be ready to say he loved her yet. But the way his eyes glinted in the light of the setting sun, the way he looked sentimentally down at her lips before kissing her again, she knew that he loved her... or someday could.