How to Get Hitched in Ten Days: A Novella. Samantha Tonge

a sigh I took off the turban of towel around my hair and, cheeks still hot from the shower, padded towards Mikey’s bedroom in my comfiest pyjamas. His private space in the flat was lush, with shiny purple floral wallpaper and a matching velvet bedspread. It provided quite a contrast to the black and white colour theme of the lounge and open-plan kitchen. I yawned. It was only half-past eight but I’d had a challenging Monday at the office, having to sack someone and investigate a claim of sexual harassment. Then last night, my Valentine’s Day date, well… less said about that the better. A lump rose in my throat.

      ‘Hurry up, slowcoach!’

      With a roll of my eyes, I passed through the doorway and… oh, what a welcome sight: Mikey, in his night-time shorts and T-shirt, sitting on the far side of his huge king-sized bed which stood opposite a widescreen telly. Next to him was a bottle of wine, large bowl of popcorn and an array of DVDs. I pursed my lips to trap a sob I could feel rising as he folded down the duvet and patted the mattress. I let my towel fall onto the floor.

      ‘Hop in, Jazz. We haven’t had a sleepover for a while.’

      I bit my lip. Unexpected acts of kindness shot straight into the heart, didn’t they? My chin trembled.

      ‘Oh, darling.’ Mikey turned to face me and stretched out his arms. I hurtled towards him, squidging across the sheets to fall into the warmth of his embrace. Enveloped in those biceps, my facial muscles relaxed and I leant my head on his chest. We hugged for the longest moment, me squeezing my eyes tight, so as not to cry.

      ‘You aren’t going to dribble, are you?’ he said, softly.

      With a sniff, I slipped my left arm across his abdomen and poked him in the ribs, as he lay down.

      ‘Oi!’

      I lifted my head and we exchanged smiles.

      ‘So. Are you finally going to tell me what happened last night?’ he said, as I rested my head again. ‘You haven’t said a word all evening.’

      ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I mumbled and blinked rapidly.

      ‘Fair enough.’ He squeezed me tight. ‘But I’m here if you need me. Right, DVD time – you like romance, I’m an action fan, so how about we compromise with a James Bond movie that combines both elements?’

      I nodded, sat up, limbs feeling heavy as I crossed my legs. I grabbed the bowl, scooped up a handful of popcorn and offered it to Mikey, who slipped two pieces into his mouth.

      ‘Mmm. You’ve tossed it in liquid toffee,’ I said and reached for one of the napkins by the bowl.

      ‘With just a touch of salt added,’ he said and nipped out of bed to pick up my towel and hang it over his radiator. He came back and picked up two glasses from his bedside table. ‘Pour the Pinot.’

      ‘Bossy boots.’ Although that was the kind of order I would never refuse.

      A glugging noise, from the bottle, filled the room as he clambered back into bed. Five minutes later, we sat, both leaning against the headboard, hips rubbing next to each other as we snuggled up, crunching on the scrumptious snack.

      ‘So, which James Bond?’ I said, in between mouthfuls. Must focus. Dave being a moron wasn’t going to leave me in bits. My throat ached. One thing Mum’s death had taught me was never to let a man dictate how happy I was. ‘Let me guess…’ I cleared my throat. ‘Daniel Craig, seeing as you’re such a fan of six-packs and fake tan.’

      ‘Huh? Haven’t you ever taken a close look at my boyfriends?’

      I thought hard. ‘Hmm. Not many of them have been gym bunnies. In fact, that Steve hadn’t an ounce of muscle.’

      ‘Believe it or not, sometimes personality counts as well.’

      ‘Unless you’ve lowered your standards, due to recently letting yourself go. I mean, just how much pie have you been scoffing at the diner lately?’ With a grin I slipped my hand under his T-shirt and my fingers slid over taut, waxed contours.

      ‘I know. Irresistible aren’t I? As ripped as ever.’

      ‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ I muttered, hand back in the popcorn bowl. ‘Okay… I reckon you prefer Timothy Dalton – out of all the Bonds, he’s a little rougher around the edges, yet the most sensitive.’

      ‘Ten out of ten, darling – but tonight’s all about you, so come on, choose the film.’ Mikey cocked his head. ‘I think you’ll either go for Roger Moore who makes you laugh or… well yes, Daniel Craig – the perfect gent.’

      Unable to talk for a moment, I nodded – it must have been the time of the month. You see, I didn’t really do crying. Blame that on a childhood where weeping resulted in a clip around the ear. Mikey was right – a man who made me laugh yet treated me with respect, in other words the opposite to my dad.

      ‘Octopussy it is.’ Quickly I sipped my wine. Heaven. Next to Mikey I always felt… safe. Cared for. In fact pure bliss, an hour later, when my head lay on his chest again and, lights dimmed, he stroked my hair. I imagined this was how it must feel as a child, to have your dad’s arms wrapped around you when things went wrong; to know he was there, whatever the circumstances, whilst other people in your life would come and go.

      ‘Dave came into the diner, today,’ he said quietly.

      I swallowed, stomach tingling at just the mention of my boyfriend’s name. Dave had the sexiest lopsided smile and kisses that sent me to a place where sad memories or stressful work problems never got in. ‘Good for him.’

      ‘Wearing that God awful coat. He’s… really sorry – about last night.’

      So Mikey did know exactly what was the matter. Almost knocking his chin, I sat up. ‘Since when are you Dave’s defender? You’ve hardly spoken to him the last year.’

      ‘Yeah, I have!’ His cheeks flushed.

      I raised one eyebrow. Dave and my flatmate were hardly best mates. I didn’t get it – as well as having me in common, they were both kind and compassionate. Dave also liked action movies and Mikey watched football sometimes.

      He sighed. ‘Okay, look… can you blame me? He jumps a mile high if I touch him and judges me as if I’m some stereotypical camp gay character out of a Hollywood movie.’

      ‘Not always!’ Good old Mikey simply pursed his lips. He no doubt had plenty of harsher things he could say about Dave, but had probably bitten them back over recent months, for my sake. ‘Okay, so Dave’s, um, not quite as in touch with his feminine side as you.’

      Mikey snorted. ‘That’s got nothing to do with it. Straight guys I know give me a hug. Dave’s just… just…’

      ‘Reserved? Very British?’

      ‘Socially awkward, more like – but only in my company.’

      ‘You always were special,’ I said, in an attempt to raise a smile. ‘Anyway, I thought tonight was about me? How typical to make it all about yourself.’

      ‘Jazz!’

      I grinned, the ache in my heart forgotten for a nanosecond. Is there anyone better than a best friend who can help you laugh your way out of a dismal situation?

      He shrugged. ‘Okay. Fair comment. So, Dave explained how he’d messed up.’

      ‘That’s putting it mildly. I just hope he’s got the sense to keep his distance before I leave for New York where I can cool off.’

      An odd expression crossed Mikey’s face and he busied himself topping up our glasses. ‘So he was drunk – that’s not the worst crime in the world.’ Seconds later his face fell. ‘What I mean is…’ He shook his head. ‘Crap. When am I going to learn to take my foot out of my mouth?’

      ‘Don’t worry.’ I forced my mouth to upturn. ‘Clearly I’m so well balanced,