Page 89 of How We Began

My cheeks pinked and I pulled at the too tight wrap of my scarf I’d just put back on. Ben glared at his Mum again as we stepped into the cold February air and made a little dash for the car.

Cranking up the heating to the max, we sat in silence for a moment.

“Sorry my mum came on a bit strong,” he said, running a cold fingertip along my cheekbone.

“Don’t be daft! She was really nice,” I returned, shoving the car into first and waiting for instruction.

“Where to now, navigator?”

“Okay, now we’re going to Lyme and the real date.”

He flashed me his best killer smile, which made my stomach flip and the accelerator rev ever so slightly as I eased the car forward into whatever the rest of Valentine’s Day had to offer.

15th February

So, yesterday. KILL ME NOW. Not even Taylor has a song for the disaster that was yesterday. That’s how bad Valentines turned out. I should have hidden better than with blabber mouth Tristan, so Ben couldn’t find me, that way I wouldn’t be sat here, broken hearted, wondering how something so perfect ended up going so incredibly wrong.

Not only did it go wrong, but I also had to endure a humiliatingly silent trip home with Ben in Tristan’s car. It didn’t seem to go half as fast on the way back as it went.

How did this happen…

Well I might as well write it all down, then I can try and erase it from my memory forever.

Lilah-Dickhead-McCannon Strikes Again!

(The Real Valentine’s Date—From hell)

Valentine's 'Ben style' is strangely also Valentine's 'Lilah style.' Go figure.

We checked into a little B&B that hadn’t seen a decorating brush since at least the 1970's. I’m talking brown-flocked wallpaper and a burnt-orange deep-pile carpet. It’s hideously great. We were both in fits of hysterics as we explored our room, which was decked out in pea green. Everything was pea green; bed sheets, carpet, walls, curtains, sink, toilet, and bidet.

“They have a bidet!” I shrieked from the bathroom.

“Only the classiest of places for you, Lilah,” he replied with huge grin.

I unpacked my bag, which involved taking out a toothbrush and some very sexy red underwear.

“Now I see why you panicked in the car earlier.” He smiled slowly whilst moving toward me as lithe as a cat.

“Hold on. I actually have to put it on first,” I protested, unsuccessfully trying to squirm out of his arms.

“Save it for later,” he murmured.

So I did.

It was perfect.

Every single moment = perfection.

When it was time to go out and explore, we found a great pub, the sort of place where everyone stops and stares at you as you walk in, and you have to be careful about where you sit in case you offend a local by deeming to put your arse on their special chair.

We found a small table in a little snug where we proceed to drink countless pints of beer and eat about fifteen packets of crisps each.

It was perfect… until we went for a wintery walk.

(Advice for Valentine's Day – For Future Reference)

Never ever talk about feelings when drunk on Valentine’s Day.