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COMEDY ROMANCE: MODERN LOVE by Ruffled Quill | GBAMLOG.COM

Deep breaths…

Not so deep that you pass out, but deep enough to relax you into a state of such super coolness that you’ll pretty much glide up that finely paved driveway, knock on the door and ask her out. I try a few more deep breaths and then stop before I hyperventilate right here in the street. Her house is in the middle of the street, a semi-detached new build that screams ‘Yes, the area I was built in may be a little troublesome from time to time, but living in this house you’ll forget all that’.

It’s probably got four bedrooms with en-suite, the windows are double glazed, dark brown frames against pale, expensive brickwork and she has a garage that’s attached to the house. Whatever her dad does for a living he must be good at it.

In my head I replay the conversation that got me here.

 

***

I was sat on the wall by the art block. Ste, my best friend, was with me. We only had half an hour for dinner but he’d been back to the canteen three times already. As usual on summer days the girls in our year liked to sit in a group on the grass and gossip the time away; a ring of male spectators had gathered, keeping their distance just enough to avoid detection but watching them closely. We were in that ring but I was only watching one girl, Jo. We only had a few lessons together but it was enough for me to fall in love with her.

“She told me she likes you,” said Ste, trying to impale as many chips onto the small, plastic fork as he could manage; those he couldn’t  made a bid for escape over the side of the tray, dinner for the birds once we’d left the yard.

“Are you sure?” I asked him again. There were two reasons why I’m not convinced; one, a girl like Jo wouldn’t ever like me and two, I’ve known Ste my whole life and ninety-eight percent of what comes out of his mouth is crap.

“Trust me.” When he sees the look on my face he decides to elaborate. “She told Claire that she likes you-“

“You said she told you herself.”

He waved his hand in the air as though who said what wasn’t really important. I ducked the chips that flew off the folk.

“I meant she told Claire and Claire told me. I wasn’t supposed to know but I couldn’t keep that from you.”

As he fills his mouth with more chips I try to weigh up what’s worse, the girl of my dreams fancying me or her best friend’s shocking morals on confidentiality.

“Should I ask her out here, at school?” I ask myself aloud. Ste thinks I’m asking him. He shakes his head and I’m glad he hasn’t tried to talk with food in his mouth. Eventually he swallows. It’s like a snake swallowing a goat.

“Go round to her house after school and ask her,” he says as if he does this kind of thing all the time. I know he doesn’t since he has the same luck as I do with girls.

***

 

I try for the gate and it’s stuck, the bloody thing won’t open. Is this a sign? I’m trying desperately to get it open while at the same time trying to keep a cool exterior should anyone happen to glance out of their window. A small amount of light kicking and eventually it swings open and emits a high pitch screech of rusted hinges, like a warning system. Hopefully not one for an attack dog. Does she own a dog? She’s never said. Jesus, what if I’m savaged in her front garden? There aren’t any warning stickers in the window, though. You’ve got to warn people if you’re housing a four legged, ferocious killing machine. I read that somewhere.

I’m purposely dawdling now, admiring plants that I’ll never know the names of, following the intricate pattern of the crazy paving. The closer I get to the house the harder it will be to ask her. If I continue to panic this much my brain will surely seize.

Get a grip! I tell myself. She’s known you ages, she’ll be pleased, if a little surprised to see you at her door but that won’t matter. Once you ask her and she says yes then you’ve cracked it. You can crack a few jokes and stride off into the sunset leaving her breathless at the front door, unable to contain her excitement at your date the following night . . . you hope.

I’m at her door. Do I use the door knocker or bell? Is there a system? My hand hovers, unsure, between the two.  Is the door knocker for friends and family and the bell for salesmen and extremely nervous fourteen year olds? What do I do? Help, please anyone!

“Excuse me, mate.”

I spin around so quick that I almost turn a full 360. A man is standing by the gate dressed in a dark blue courier uniform, holding a clipboard and a package under his arm. I didn’t even hear his van pull up. He looks about thirty, unshaven and quite tough; like an e-fit from Crime Watch.

“Yes?” I say, happy for the distraction.

“Is this 14 Hamble Drive?”

“Erm…” I look back at the door, no number anywhere. Why would you not have a door number on your house?  “I er, don’t know.”

“Oh, right. I thought you lived here. It looked like you were unlocking the door that was all.”

“No, I don’t, mate.” Will he ask her for me? He can knock on the door and just tell Jo there’s a very nervous kid on the street who would like to go out with her. She’ll think it’s sweet.

“What’s the name of the family that live here?”  He asks, while placing the clipboard on the wall and checking the parcel over. My mind’s gone blank again, I’ve managed to forget my future girlfriend’s last name, and I thought exam stress was a killer.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, weakly.

“Are you a friend or relative?” He looks concerned. Concerned that he’s got a chance to unload a parcel but he can’t tell if I’m an idiot or not.

“Erm…not really.” Oh god, I’m getting flustered, he’s making me even more nervous and I’m doing my best not to show it.

“Not really what?”

“I’m a friend.”

“You weren’t sure a second ago.”

“I’m a friend,” I assure him, but he doesn’t seem assured. He reaches for the pen behind his ear and taps the parcel. He’s weighing me up, sussing if I know what I’m talking about. It won’t be long before he realises I don’t.

“A friend of whom?”

“Their daughter.”

“Who is?”

“Claire.” That’s not her name, you fool. “No Joanne, I mean, Jo.”

“Are you sure you know them?”

How has none of her family heard this conversation? There’s a man getting ever more incensed by a pointless conversation with a school boy in their garden and so far not one person has ventured outside to investigate. The Courier’s not keen on going anywhere because he’s now resting on the wall by the gate. Maybe I could reason with him? Explain the situation to him and he might understand. He might have been an idiotic fourteen year-old once.

“What are you doing at the door?” The laid back approach he had before has now disappeared and he’s looking at the other houses in the street when he asks his question. He thinks I’m up to no good, like her father will.

“I was going to knock.”

“You looked like you were fiddling with the lock.”

“I’m expected,” I lie. None of her family will back that story up if it comes down to me having to prove it. The Courier knows this.

“Well knock then.”

“Why?” I try to stall, but he knows what I’m doing.

“Because you’re expected.”

“No.” I tell him straight.

“I knew it,” he says. He begins to rub his chin while he thinks what he could do with me. There’s a sound of a door unlocking and Jo’s next door neighbour sticks his head out. I can tell he’s going to be a problem; he looks like he should be in magazines, selling life insurance or stair lifts. Eighty with grey hair and moustache, military look about him, the sort of person who sees nothing but bad news with anyone under the age of thirty.

“What’s going on?” he asks, straining at the neck like a tortoise.

“I’ve come to deliver this parcel and I’ve found this kid acting suspiciously by the front door,” the Courier tells him, instantly creating two against one.

“He was acting suspiciously by the front garden, earlier.”

“How?” I ask, tone a few octaves too high.

He’s outraged I’ve questioned him. “You were stood looking at the house for ten minutes,” he says, stepping out into his garden. He’s dressed in trousers, shirt and tie and a v-neck jumper. I almost expect war medals as well. Unless his house has air conditioning, wearing that outfit in this heat can’t be good for anyone, any age. “I thought you were lost but you were looking to see if anyone was at home.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the Courier, holding his hands out now he’s found someone who agrees with him. He points at me. “But he says he’s expected.”

“You’re expected?” the old man repeats, shaking his head.

“Yes I am.” Throughout all this the panic isn’t fading and I don’t move from the spot. I feel like I’m on trial.

“Who’s expecting you, then?” the old man asks.

“Jo,” I stress. “Jo is expecting me.” I pray this will end it.

“Well, you’ll struggle there I’m afraid,” he informs me. “She went out with her dad, earlier.”

A wave of relief crashes over me; I won’t have to embarrass myself. It’s instantly followed by a tsunami of realisation that I’ll be no closer to getting the girl of my dreams.

“I’m phoning the police.” The Courier takes out his mobile phone.

“Hang on a minute,” I protest, hands flapping about wildly.

“There has been a spate of burglaries around here,” states the old man pointing at me and raising his voice as if he wants the entire street to know. “I knew it was kids. You’ve got some nerve stealing from houses in broad daylight.”

“But I know Jo.”

“From school, that’s probably how you found out the house was empty,” says the Courier, as if he’s just solved a mystery on Scooby-Do. He puts the phone to his ear.  “Yeah, police? I want to report an attempted burglary . . .”

“I’m not a bloody burglar!” I shout.

The old man has shuffled over to the fence in his slippers, getting very excited at the prospect of me being arrested for something I haven’t done.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he says to me. “Margo saw someone the other day in Mrs Higginbotham’s garden; she’ll be able to say whether it was you or not, won’t she?”

“What number’s this house?” the Courier asks the old man. He still doesn’t know if he’s at the right address.

“Fourteen, Hamble Drive.”

The Courier looks at me as if to say you should have just accepted the parcel. The old man is already making his way across the road to the adjacent house where, I assume, Margo lives. He knocks on the door and an old lady, about his age, greets him. They spend a few minutes having a hushed conversation. The Courier hangs the phone up and stares over at the old couple talking.

“The police will be here soon,” he says to me.

“I’ll just head off home.” I begin to make my way out of the garden but the Courier blocks my way.

“Too late, mate. You can’t sneak your way out of this.”

The old man has obviously asked Margo but she’s struggling because she’s pointing at a tree. He moves her arm in my direction and she nods wildly. What can only be described as a sprint for an eighty year-old brings him back across the road, shaking with either excitement or illness, hard to say which.

“She says it’s him,” he says. “She’s a hundred percent sure. She says you were trying to get into Mrs Higginbotham’s shed. Probably trying to steal her lawn mower and sell it for drugs.”

“I’m not on drugs,” I protest. The Courier laughs; at least someone is finding humour in all this.

“You all are,” says the old man. “You probably have a knife, as well.”

“You could put any kid in this spot and that old woman would say that’s who she saw in the garden.”

I’ve horrified the old man. “Are you calling Margo a liar?”

“I think he is,” says the Courier, enjoying himself until the police arrive.

It’s not long before I can hear a car and judging by the curtain twitching from every house on the street I know it’s the police without having to look around. It’s just my luck to get a policeman eager to break the world record for the fastest response to crime in progress. I’m sure the Courier has phoned him directly.

All I wanted to do was ask Jo out. Why is everything I ever do marred by unrelenting problems? Nothing ever seems to go right for me. Will this continue into my late teens, early twenties?

The police car pulls up in front of the Courier’s van and I can see eager heads bobbing about in gardens down the street. A father has even put his child on his shoulders to watch the teenager get arrested; they’ll probably start chanting for me to be tasered. I’m going to be arrested for a crime I didn’t commit. Maybe Jo will hear about this in school on Monday and she’ll rush to see me in court before I’m sentenced? Maybe not.

The policeman unfolds himself from the car and begins to walk his six foot six frame over to Jo’s garden. He’s the same age as the Courier and looks like he’d be better suited to smashing down the doors of suspected drug dealers, or chasing rioters with a shield and bat. The Courier has left his post hoping to meet the policeman and give his version of events before I get the chance. The old man also has his back to me, but that doesn’t stop him pointing at me.

I decide, against better judgement, to make a run for it.

It’s difficult to know who shouted first, the old man, the Courier or the policeman. As I jump the front gate I can hear all three at once; and as I frantically run in the direction that has the least spectators, I realise that the Courier and the policeman are giving chase. Whatever story the Courier told him must have done the job because the look on the policeman’s face tells me I’m in deep trouble if he catches me. I’ve never been a keen runner but I have found that when pushed it can change.

I look on this whole episode as an argument for why we need email and social networking sites rather than face to face communication. I know all this could’ve been avoided by simply sending a text message to her, but I thought maybe knocking on her door might add to the romance. I’m still thinking about this as I take the next turn off the street.

And a car hits me.

Or maybe I hit the car, both seem plausible as the car was going under the speed limit and I was trying to break the speed limit when we connected.

There’s a scream and I glance up to see a man, early forties, his face as white as chalk sat behind the wheel and doing his best to comprehend that he’s just hit a child with his car. I’m surprised to see Jo in the passenger seat, hands over her mouth in shock. I smile at her as I slowly begin to slide off the bonnet and onto the road.

The Courier and the policeman have caught me up and are trying to help me. I try to count how many organs have ruptured being careful not to confuse winding with internal haemorrhaging but the way this morning is going I wouldn’t rule out a slow and painful death.

Jo climbs out of the car and kneels down beside me; she is crying and gathers my head (still attached to my body) in her arms. She’s been riding horses, there’s a strong smell of manure. Her long blonde hair falls across her face and she looks gorgeous, if a little puffy eyed. She strokes my forehead and tells me it will be alright, and that I’m not to worry.

 

Her dad hitting me meant not only was there no objection to me taking Jo out on a date but I also got to pick the film. She still flatly denies there was any cryingor head holding, she claims she stayed in the car until the ambulance arrived.

TRAGIC ROMANCE: THE BROKEN HEART by Jose Heavena | GBAMLOG.COM

TTRTTThe journey of a kind hearted girl, who has to face lots of difficulties post- marriage.

Kia is a kind-hearted, sensitive and a charming girl. She loves her family a lot. Her parents encorage and pamper her. She had graduated in Biotechnology from a reputed Institution. She had worked as a Lecturer and everyone loves her, because of her helping tendency. Kia  loves adventures and she has lots of ambitions in her life.

Kia wants to pursue PhD, but she gets married at the age of 26. Her marriage is a pure arranged marriage and it takes place in a small town in Tamilnadu. On 9th May 2016, she got married to Krish. Kia’s dad hold her hands and walk towards the aisle. Everyone’s eyes get fixed on Kia as she walks on the red carpet. Kia looks adorable in her beautiful white gown.Her marriage takes place grandly with her friends and relatives.

Krish is an employee,working for IT sales in Mumbai. He is the only son who is loved by his family a lot. Krish is a well of and male egoistic person. He values people based on their money and fame. Kia gets relocated to Mumbai after marriage. Everything seems to be fine and good at the start and she gets conceived and gives birth to an adorable bary girl named Ria, on May 8th,2017. All the members in her family becomes happy.

Days passes and Krish’s parents torture Kia both physically and mentally. They beat and abuse her.Kia bears everything for her daughter, because she does’nt want Ria to separate from her dad.Krish’s mom says to Kia, that she is not capable for her son. Kia’s heart gets broken and she cries terribly. Krish is always busy in his life with his work and watching football matches at night,without even considering Kia. Kia remains all alone in that home.  Kia informs this to Krish, but he tells her to adjust and live.

One fine day, Kia makes her mind and comes to her dad’s house with Ria. Kia’s parents support and encourage her to become an author and she finally becomes an author.Kia works hard to fulfill all her child’s needs. Kia made up her mind that she will not go back to Mumbai to her inlaws house.

When Kia was alone in Mumbai,she used to pray a lot and she believed only god can heal her wounds. Kia wants to give Ria a good life with good moral values and manners. Kia lives for Ria and she hopes Ria would take care of her in the future.

YOUNG ROMANCE: MY FIRST CRUSH by TheMecurialGirl | GBAMLOG.COM

Our crushes keep changing after every three to four months or maybe even longer or shorter than that. But guys, I hope each and everyone of us remembers our first crush! I find myself blushing whenever I come up with this phrase ‘First Crush’. I find myself going back to the time when i was six, yes because at that age I had my first crush. I was completely unknown to the word ‘Crush’ at that time. I was in my first grade when this boy in my class named Sharvil stole my heart.

Sharvil had the perfect ‘Dream boy’ looks. Brown haired, Pale skinned and with a mesmerizing and an infectious smile that would skip my heartbeat. I would find myself always staring at him in the class and would always find a chance to sit beside him in the class. And whenever I would talk with him, I used to wear that stupid, kiddish smile. You can imagine!

One day, during our lunch break, Sharvil sat beside me and nothing else could make me go all way dreamy! He had come there to show me some magic trick with the fingers. The magic trick which he showed was not quite skilled but there goes my crush-moment, I started clapping like an idiot and acted as if I was overly overwhelmed just because it was HIM coming to ME  to show the trick. So you can imagine the amount of control he had on my mood.

Once, Sharvil had come to my house to play with my brother who studied in the same class as we. He went upstairs to my brother’s bedroom and the whole time I had my ears stuck to his bedroom door! I was so whipped.

I left the school after my first grade and got an admission in another school. As time passed, I eventually forgot Sharvil as he was replaced my other ‘fluctuating’ crushes. After a few years I had completed my tenth grade and i decided to become an engineer in future. I even registered for a JEE training center. I came to know that there were many of my friends from first grade who attended that class and even Sharvil was one of them!

I was eagerly waiting for my class to start. By the time the day arrived, I had already lost my patience to see ‘my’ boy. OK, so let me describe to you the first day of my JEE class. I was trying to hide my excitement right from the time I woke up on that day. I got ready, packed my stuff and boarded the bus. It took thirty minutes for the bus to reach the class. When I reached the class, I found out that the students were still coming and I was not late.

As the class was filling up, my eyes scanned each and every corner of the class but there was no sign of him. I was disrupted. I was standing near the door and then suddenly I heard an ‘Excuse Me’ from behind. I realized that I was blocking the way and then I immediately stepped away from the entrance. I turned around to see who it was. I was too shocked to see the breathtaking view in front of me. It was Sharvil! He looked the same. The same messy, brown hair which had become a bit curly. It made him look hotter. He had the same pale complexion and I noticed that he was wearing lenses, BLUE color lenses! OH MY GOD! This was too much. I was swooning but then I controlled myself. Our eyes met and I felt I was six again. All the memories with him kept flashing in my mind but I was not six, I was a matured and grown up girl. I apologized to him and then sat in my place.

After the class was over, I talked with all my friends. It felt very refreshing to talk to them. Then somehow I ended up talking with Sharvil. And yes, I had my ‘control button’ on as usual. He said that he did not remember me but then I recalled some memories and then after a long time he finally recognized me. We chatted for a long time. He had continued studying in the same school till tenth grade and now he too wanted to become an engineer. All the things that happened on that day were enough to make the rest of the day blissful!

NOW, Sharvil and I are friends, I should say BEST FRIENDS! I know all his secrets and he knows mine too. We share everything with each other. We have similar likes and dislikes. I have even told him about him being my first crush. Yes, I told him everything! I keep telling him all the moments when I fell for him and guess what he does? He just laughs, he does not say anything, simply laughs and I feel the fluttering butterflies in my stomach caused by the melodious sounds of his laughter!

ROMANCE FICTION: SHE CATFISHED ME AND I MARRIED HER by Toni Payne | GBAMLOG.COM

The story of how I met and married my wife can be considered romantic depending on your perspective. We met in a popular social media network group. Being a novice, I never thought people created fake profiles on that platform. It turned out the woman I would later marry did. I should have known something was awkward, she was very active but hardly shared pictures of herself or anything else. She had one profile picture, which I found to be very beautiful.

We got on very well and would agree on most topics shared in the group. The conversations were later taken to our private inbox. She lived on the east coast, which was a bit far for me but I did not mind. We eventually graduated to talking on the phone. The first time I heard her voice, I was blown away by how soft and sweet she sounded. If there was any such thing as love at first listen, this would have been it.

 

A taste of new love

The relationship got serious even though we had not physically met. I was so in love with her personality that I did not mind the fact that whenever I asked her to video chat, she would find an excuse not to. This went on for months. I was so caught up in my feelings for her, I did not push further. Maybe I should have.

As the months went by, we stayed close, sharing very intimate conversations. She said all the right things and I felt I knew her better than any other woman from my past. I would spend hours staring at that one beautiful picture she posted and with all this, I felt like I had found my ideal woman. There was only one problem.

Whenever I brought up the topic of meeting physically, she would make excuse after excuse why we needed to wait. At this point, I knew something was wrong and I did not want to continue the relationship if she was hiding something. She claimed she was shy in person and was not ready to meet me. I wasn’t buying it so I pushed further for us to meet.

Finally… we meet

One day she called me out of the blue and told me she was ready to see me. We picked a weekend that I would come see her. When the day finally arrived, I was nervous but ready to finally hold this lady in my arms. She had been an important part of my world for months and finally I would get to look her in the face and tell her how much I care.

My trip was uneventful until I got to the pickup area where we were to meet. Anxious and ready to get this over with, I stood there looking around for her for what seemed like an hour. I called her phone several times but she did not pick up. With disappointment clearly written on my face, I started to walk back to the ticketing counter when a lady walked up to me and asked if I was waiting for Amanda. I said yes and asked if she knew her. This is when the bombshell dropped.

“I am Amanda,” she said. My jaw dropped. What in the world was going on? This must be a prank. It had to be. I immediately started looking around for cameras but found none. I was expecting a TV host to jump out and say I had been pranked, but it never happened.

The only thing I was sure of was that the lady standing in front of me looked nothing like the Amanda I saw in the picture. She asked if I would follow her to her car. The voice! I recognized the voice and would have recognized it in my sleep. I followed her like a zombie under a spell, part of me bursting with curiosity.

A case of true love?

When we got to her car, she began to explain why she catfished me. She said she would understand if I no longer wanted to continue with the relationship. She explained why she was reluctant to meet me in person or video chat. Apparently, the last man she met online stopped calling after they met and she had been dealing with self-esteem issues ever since. She said her main concern was not scaring me away. I asked why she agreed to meet me and she said it was because she was falling in love with me and did not want the charade to continue. She said she wanted me to fall in love with her and not a fake picture.

It took a lot to process but while thinking about it, I realized her plan had worked. I had fallen in love with who she was and not what she looked like. I realized It wasn’t the picture on her profile that endeared me to her, it was her personality, wit and how she cared for me. Little did I know that was the tip of the iceberg. Going to see Amanda turned out to be the best decision because when she realized I was comfortable with her looks, her personality seemed to blossom even more.

One month later I proposed to her. She moved in with me a few more months later and we eventually got married. We have been married for over 7 years and I fall more and more in love with her every day.

If you like what you read, you can check out  my other works  HERE 

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