One Hundred Proposals. Holly Martin

There was no skill at all involved in sliding down a slope in a red plastic sledge.

      ‘I like it now. I’m very proficient. Obviously just needed the right instructor.’

      ‘Well that’s great, maybe we can go together sometime.’

      I fixed a smile onto my face. ‘Maybe.’

      ‘What’s his name?’

      I cast around for a suitable name and a suitable adjective to describe him, something comparable to Sexy Samantha. I had nothing, no names in my head at all. The only name in my head was Harry and that would be too weird. He was staring at me, waiting for me to come up with a name, the silence stretched on. I had to say something.

      ‘Tim.’ I almost shouted out with relief. ‘Tiny Tim.’

      Great. Just great.

      Harry’s face fell. ‘Tiny Tim?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘As in…’ he waggled his little finger at me.

      ‘No, no, of course not, he’s very big in that department. Big all over in fact. Huge. It’s kind of an ironic name.’

      ‘Big like me?’

      ‘Well I have no idea how big you are in that department.’ My eyes cast down to the sizeable bulge in his jeans and I felt my cheeks burn as he clearly saw me checking him out.

      ‘I meant in height,’ Harry said. I’m sure I saw his mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile.

      ‘Oh yes, he’s very tall.’

      ‘Good. That’s good. I have a friend who’s a ski instructor at the Snow Zone, he might know your Tim. What’s his surname?’

      ‘Timmings.’

      I was a terrible liar.

      ‘Tim Timmings?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      A horn tooted outside and Harry peeled back the net curtain to wave at Sexy Samantha as she leaned on the bonnet of her sexy red convertible. I didn’t think I’d ever be so relieved to see her again.

      ‘Well have fun.’ Harry threw me a cursory wave as he thundered down the stairs. A second later I heard the front door slam.

      I peered out the window, hoping not to be noticed as Harry swept Sexy Samantha into his arms and swung her round as if he hadn’t seen her in months. As he deposited her on the floor she waved up at me and I was forced to wave politely back.

      With a wheel spin and the stereo blaring out something young and hip, the red convertible roared up the road, taking my heart with it.

      I’d been in love with Harry for two long, painful years and we were further away today from getting together than we had been when we first met. We were now firmly in the friend zone and there was never any coming back from that.

      Two years was way too long for unrequited love. It was time I moved on with someone else. I would just fall out of love with him, simple as that.

      I sighed as I walked into my bedroom and got changed into my cow print onesie. I flicked through some songs on my iPod until I found something suitably rousing and as Gloria Gaynor started belting out ‘I am what I am’, I turned up the volume, leapt up onto the bed and danced and wiggled my bum in time with the lyrics. I was highly skilled in the playing of air drums and as Gloria reached a crescendo so did my frenetic drum playing. As the instrumental kicked in I leapt off the bed, doing the splits mid-air. I pulled a muscle in my groin and as I flicked my hair theatrically out of my face I saw Harry’s eyes widen in horror as I landed on top of him, one leg somehow hooked over his shoulder as my other foot kicked him square in his crotch.

      He screamed in pain. I screamed with embarrassment as he staggered back and landed hard on his bum, my leg still wrapped round his neck.

      Gloria was still singing loudly in the background as we stared at each other. Finally I managed to speak.

      ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘Currently, wondering if I’ll ever be able to have sex again. Can you please get off my lap?’

      I quickly climbed off him, kneeing him in the face as I tried to stand up. He slowly staggered to his feet, doubled over in obvious pain.

      ‘I forgot my wallet,’ he said, by way of explanation.

      I swallowed. ‘You saw me dance?’

      He lifted his head and this time there was no mistaking the grin. ‘From the very beginning to the dramatic finale.’

      I groaned.

      ‘I better go, Samantha will be wondering where I am. Nice onesie by the way. Does Tiny Tim have one too? A horse or a pig perhaps?’

      I stared down at myself, at the pink udders hanging limply from my stomach, and wanted the ground to swallow me up. ‘He’s not coming round till later.’

      ‘Of course not. And I imagine he thinks you look quite cute in it.’

      Cute? Puppies were cute. Is that how he thought of me, as a cute little puppy?

      He moved to the top of the stairs and I followed him.

      ‘Do you think I look cute in it?’

      He turned and walked back up a few stairs, kneeling on the stair below me so we were eye to eye. ‘Yes.’

      My heart dropped. I was so far in the friend zone I was now categorised as cute. He’d be patting me on the back next and telling me he saw me like a sister.

      ‘Sexy cute?’

      ‘No.’

      My heart sank into my feet.

      ‘I bet Samantha would look sexy in it?’

      ‘I doubt it. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to look sexy in it.’

      I felt slightly better at this.

      ‘And don’t underestimate the value of cute, it’s a great quality to have.’ He leaned forward and kissed me on the nose. ‘And don’t stay up too late, I have a big day planned for you tomorrow.’

      He ran down the stairs and was gone a second later.

      I touched my nose, still feeling the softness of his lips. He thought I was cute. I smiled as I fell in love with him all over again.

       Chapter Two

      I woke the next day with a start, being quite simply torn from a dream about Jack – a memory of playing with him on the beach as he tried to put wet seaweed down my back. As I became more conscious, the loss of losing him hit me all over again.

      I knew immediately that someone was in the room with me. I was face down on my pillow and I leaned up and swept my curtain of tangled brown hair off my face. Harry was sitting next to me on the bed, sipping his coffee and reading my very dog-eared copy of The Hobbit.

      I scowled at him. I wasn’t a morning person.

      ‘Do you not knock?’

      Harry’s attention didn’t even waver from the page he was reading. ‘You gave me a key.’

      ‘I could have been naked.’

      He put his book down and looked at me. ‘All the more reason for me not to knock.’

      I blushed and climbed off the bed.

      Most mornings I woke to this. I must admit, it was a lovely way to wake up. One night, after these early morning visits had become more regular, I went to bed in my sexiest lingerie in the hope that the following morning he would come in and be so turned on that he might immediately ravish me. But not only did he not even bat an eyelid