Warning: extreme fluff
My Fragmented Fairytale
Call me stupid or naïve but I've always been a happy ending kind of girl. There's just something about the knight-in-shining-armour rescuing the damsel-in-distress and the protagonist over coming adversity after adversity to ultimately find true love that makes me hope that maybe someday I'll get a happily ever after of my own.
Okay, so maybe I have more faith in fairytales than a normal sixteen-going-on-seventeen (excuse The Sound of Music reference) should, but that doesn't mean I'm completely out of touch with reality. I understand that roughly one in three marriages end up in divorce and approximately fifty percent of the world's population still lives in poverty whilst heirs to billion dollar fortunes spend two hours each morning deciding on what colour to paint their nails. I get that infidelity rates are increasing and that most of the guys we date (or the one guy I've dated) turn out to be toads instead of the dashing prince we've grown up to believe.
But what about the other two thirds of married couples that manage to survive their relationship hardships and remain unseparated? What if they're still deeply in love after forty years and have grown so attached that life without one another seems virtually impossible. And how do you know the next guy you end up with isn't a toad but your soul mate in disguise?
If you want you can call it wishful thinking, but personally I believe that there's a special someone out there for everyone – you just have to be lucky enough to find them.
"Two peanuts were walking down a spooky road one night when suddenly one of them was a salted."
"Don't you get it? A salted instead of assaulted? A salted peanut . . . you know? Salt as in the condiment? Salt and pepper? Anyone?"
I think I heard a baby cry. From the other side of the neighbourhood.
"So anyway," my sister Nicky turned to me successfully cutting off my brother Toby who was glaring at everyone around the table muttering on about 'people these days not appreciating those with sharp wit and a sense of humour'. "What colour dress do you think I should wear to the formal?"
I stared incredulously at the 'angelic' (my parents words not mine) vision of my younger sister slash self-appointed family fashionista before gesturing towards my baggy, on-sale jeans and grey hoodie purchased from the men's section in Target. A clear contrast from her miniskirt (note the emphasis on mini) and off-shoulder t-shirt dubbed so-hot-right-now! by the latest teen fashion magazines. "You're asking me?"
After a quick glance at my outfit she wrinkled her nose prettily (whilst she got the flawless rosy complexion from my mum's side I got stuck with the pale skin and wonky teeth, now fine after two years of braces. Thanks genetics) and leaned away from me as if my lack of fashion sense was as contagious and as fatal as typhoid. "You're right. What was I thinking?"
"But isn't the formal in year ten?" My other sister Hannah frowned disapprovingly at us from over her National Geographic.
"Yeah . . ." Nicky eyed her suspiciously. Let's just say they generally didn't think on the same wavelength.
"And aren't you in year eight?" Hannah raised an eyebrow. It took a while but in the end she finally got it.
"Well excuse me for wanting to be prepared!" Nicky exclaimed indignantly. She was currently going through a phase where she liked to put emphasis on certain words, which she thought made her sound high-class but really sounded like an over-enthusiastic contestant from the 'Price is Right' with a pitch problem.
"Yeah, two years in advance," sniggered Toby.
"Shut up you little monster no one asked you for your opinion!"
"I'm not little! I've grown at least one point three centimetres since last month!" he declared. Height tended to be a rather delicate issue for a twelve year old boy who aspired to be the next Michael Jordan.
"My name is Nicole not Nicky. Plus, no one cares mummy's boy!" she spat out the name 'Nicky' like a sour skittle. It was even worse when someone called her 'Nick'. If you were within a five-mile radius I'd highly recommend a crash helmet and bulletproof vest.
"Cally cares! Don't you Cally?" I took one glance at my little brother's face mottled red with rage and quickly replied with a "Of course I do sweetie!" He grinned triumphantly too absorbed in his moment of glory to realise I'd called him by a name he abhorred. What was with kids and their aversion to pet names?
"Calista doesn't count you freak of nature. You know she's always too engrossed in her stupid romance novels to realise the time of day." Ouch. Hang on a second… how did she know about my now-not-so-secret stash of Harlequin romances?
"Hey! That was totally uncalled for Miss Pain-in-the-freaking-ass!" The voice thing kind of got to me, plus, my fondness of romance novels was a rather sensitive topic.
"Yeah!" Toby punched his hand in the air for added emphasis, glad to be putting in his two cents worth.
"Who are you calling a pain in the ass Miss . . . Miss . . no life!" Creativity wasn't exactly her strong point. I opened my mouth to retort when I was abruptly cut off.
"WOULD YOU ALL JUST SHUT THE HELL UP! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO EDUCATE THEMSELVES ON FUNDAMENTAL ASPECTS OF THE ENVIRONMENT ON A GLOBAL SCALE IN ORDER TO FORMULATE SOLUTIONS THAT WILL EVENTUALLY COUNTER THE ISSUES THAT WILL ULTIMATELY DESTROY LIFE AS WE KNOW IT AND POSSIBLY EVEN ERADICATE THE HUMAN RACE!" We all froze and stared wide-eyed at Hannah in a sort of horrified admiration. She surveyed us carefully like we were living wax dummies in a museum before taking a deep, calming breath. "Thank you." Although only a year younger than me, she had an IQ that could rival Einstein and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Oh – and let's not forget she wanted to save mankind.
Cautiously observing Hannah from the corner of my eye, I slowly turned back to my cereal just catching Toby in the act of sticking his tongue out at Nicky who responded with a "Loser," hissed under her breath. Key displays of their astounding level of maturity.
"Snot-face," a furious Toby hissed back.
"Brat," glowered Nicky (or should I say Nicole) not bothering to keep her vice down.
Ah the joys of family bonding.
"Move it people. We have places to be and people to see and time isn't exactly on our side," I put on my best Vin Diesel voice and shepherded my siblings out the front door.
"Drop the commando act Cal. Authority just doesn't work for you," Nicky commented dryly flicking her dark brown hair (pretty much the only characteristic we shared) and sashaying down the cement pathway in a pair of three-inch heels like she was competing in an international beauty pageant. She wasn't always an A-grade bitch you know. I still remember a once upon a time when she was content with the simple life, whittling away hours playing hide-and-seek and baking choc-chip cookies, blissfully unaware of an evil known as the eyelash curler. Sigh – those were the good old days.
According to my parents she was going through a 'normal rough patch that every teenager experiences when merging into adulthood' and that as a family we had to 'support her through this challenging and confusing time in her life'. Right . . . I didn't remember demanding four thousand dollar Louis Vuitton handbags when I was thirteen. Or maybe I was just abnormal.
"Bye Cally!" Toby smiled sweetly up at me, dimples and all, before trailing after Miss Universe basketball lunchbox in hand. At least some of us were still living the dream.
As I leaned against the doorway waiting for Hannah (a.k.a. the brainiac) to enlighten me with her presence I spotted a familiar mop of chocolate brown hair emerge from the house next-door causing my heart to skip a beat. I quickly straightened up and adjusted the strap of my backpack trying to appear as if I was standing like a loner on the front porch five minutes before the start of school by choice.
So maybe someone might have a tiny crush on the boy-next-door but I wasn't stupid enough to think for a second that he'd ever see me as anything more than a friend. I'd known him since kindergarten and while you could classify us as somewhat childhood acquaintances, we weren't exactly Chuck and Larry (minus the fake gay marriage). For a start we ran in completely different social circles with him hanging around the more popular groups (although not exactly the school's golden boy he was a member of the soccer team which had to count for something) whilst I tended to drift around the middle area of the social ladder.
Not to mention the fact that a gorgeous, chocolate-haired, green-eyed, smart, funny, popular, perfect guy like him would never end up with an average, mud brown haired, dull grey eyed, boring, nobody like me. Me? Low self-esteem? What a joke!
Okay, so I admit I may have indulged in the occasional daydream mainly involving me. And him. A dramatic love confession (reciprocated of course). And a happily ever after. But a little fantasy or two or three (or maybe a hundred) never hurt anyone.
"Hey Cally!" he called, flashing his set of perfect white teeth (perks of having a mother who's an orthodontist) and waving making me all but melt into a puddle on my doorstep.
"Hi Jeremy!" I squeaked back my mouth suddenly resembling the Sahara Desert. I mentally ran through my physical appearance. Did I remember to brush my teeth? Why did I have to choose today to wear my manly hoodie? Was I smiling too hard? Was I wearing underwear? Holy bananas I was wearing my Island Princess Barbie underwear! (Long story involving a distant aunt who thought girls played with dolls until they were thirty.) Not that he'd know what kind of underwear I was wearing seeing as though I rarely wore skirts (unlike my wannabe-model sister) not even owning one shorter than knee-length, and didn't intend on flashing my undergarments to the world anytime soon (I wouldn't want to give some poor, old lady a stroke). But now that I thought about it my mum did mention something about my jeans having a hole somewhere. . .
My eyes widened as he walked towards the fence separating our two front lawns and hopped over it with ease. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to manually ensure I wasn't drooling as the edge of his shirt lifted just that tiny bit so I caught a glimpse of his tanned mid-section.
He stopped a feet away from me and ran a hand through his messy hair. "So uh, you wanna walk to school together?" He glanced briefly at his watch and frowned. "Better make that run."
It every ounce of effort I had to stop myself from jumping up and down screaming 'YES!' at the top of my lungs (because looking too eager was 'like way uncool' – quote Nicky) and I didn't think doing an impersonation of a seven year old on a sugar high after being asked if they'd like to spend the day at Toys-R-Us was really the impression I wanted to give. So being the calm and collected person I was, I replied with a "Sure. But I have to wait for Hannah first." And the Academy Award goes to . . . Calista Ridge!
"Actually, I think I saw her walk towards the bus stop fifteen minutes ago." Thanks for letting me know sis. Of course you were considerate enough to let me know you were leaving so that I didn't go into blind panic, call the police and send out a search party consisting of key members from the CIA with horrific visions of you kidnapped and held for ransom without food or water or your entire set of Britannica encyclopedias. Me? Melodramatic? Of course not!
Walking into the house and calling out "Hannah!" one last time just to make sure she was gone I locked the door and flashed a five hundred mega-watt smile at Jeremy. "You're right. So um . . . we can go now?" Speaking in coherent sentences whilst standing a mere three feet away from him was really an accomplishment for me.
My smile faltered as a saw his expression struggle between amusement, embarrassment and sympathy. "Uh . . . did you know that you have a hole at the back of your jeans?"
A sinking feeling began to creep up over me as I frantically searched for the hole doing a noteworthy impression of a dog chasing its tail (the ideal way to win over the guy you've been crushing on since third grade. Not.) "I can't find it," I muttered slightly hysteric.
He cleared his throat and gestured as politely as a guy could when referring to a female's backside. I twisted my body so I could see my behind and lo and behold! There was a hole the size of a golf ball on the right butt cheek of my jeans, perfectly positioned to expose the infamous face of Island Barbie herself.
Mortified didn't even begin to cover it.
"Spill. Now." The look in my best friend Caitlin's eye was similar to the look that Hannah got before she completely devoured Charles Darwin's Origin of the Species and frankly it was scaring the pants off of me. (Not that I could afford to flaunt my undergarments to the other half of the human population.)
"Well I saw him come out of his house and then he called out . . ." I began.
"Yeah, yeah he came over, you talked for like two seconds and you flashed him your knickers then what?" I glowed red with humiliation as people from two rows in front turned around to gawk at me curiously.
"Shhh! Would you please keep your voice down? I did not flash him my underwear thank you very much! There was a hole in my jeans, which just happened to be in a rather problematic area," I whispered fiercely, my cheeks still burning.
"Whatever you say Cal." She replied soothingly but ruined the persona by winking and leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Your secret's safe with me."
How reassuring. Not.
"Uh, thanks . . ." Because what else could you say to someone who thought that stripping off for a guy in front of your house was perfectly acceptable?
"So anyway, what else happened?" She stared at me eagerly as if my life story were an episode from Home and Away.
"I went back inside the house to change and then we walked to school."
"DETAILS Cally! I need details!" Caitlin's outburst caused the entire classroom to glance in our direction to which I grinned sheepishly and loudly mumbled on about the attributes of my geography assignment until everyone had turned back around.
"We talked . . . about stuff . . ."
"Like?" I suppressed the urge to laugh at the almost comical image of Caitlin who looked as though she was about to explode with all the suspense. Because walking to school the guy of your dreams was totally on the same level as a Mission Impossible thriller.
"Mainly about school and the teachers and all the assignments we've been getting . . . Did you know he takes French? Isn't that so cute! I've always had a thing for French guys . . ." I sighed dreamily.
"Don't remind me," she muttered obviously thinking back to year eight and my rather embarrassing run in with the French exchange student which involved me asking the length of his chest hair instead of 'How do you like Australia?'
"And he's so funny and so sweet! He held open the gate for me and walked me to class and everything." I grinned at the memory and the little flutter in my stomach at the thought of him.
"Well, yeah?" I blinked at Caitlin, confused. What was she expecting? A marriage proposal? I wish.
"No hand holding? No extraordinary love confessions? No heated glances? No steamy make-out session? No -"
"No, none of that," I interrupted hastily before she got too carried away.
"How disappointing!" Her tragic facial expression bore striking similarity to Naomi Watts when on top of the Empire State Building in King Kong . . . which would make me the gorilla. "You know what your problem is?"
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Once Caitlin got started not even an army of six foot karate black belts equipped with nuclear weapons could stop her.
"You guys are way too shy! You should've seized the opportunity, grabbed the bull by its horns, tackled the quarterback head-on, climbed that Everest, sprinted to the end of that marathon, swam across that English Channel!" I gaped at Caitlin, speechless. Who knew so many analogies for 'seizing the opportunity' existed?
"Err. . ."
"And school work?! Bo-ring! Hello? Could you guys get any more Brady Bunch? You could have at least discussed some common interests, hobbies, things that make your world go round. You could have mentioned your love for chick flicks and maybe even talked about the new film that you've been dying to see if only you had someone to go with. Even Nicky isn't dumb enough to not take that hint!"
"Hey! Nicky isn't that stupid. She just a little . . . slow sometimes." Through all her faults, she was still my sister and I felt obliged to defend her.
"Honey, she thought 7 Up was a band." I guess she had a point. Caitlin gasped and grabbed me by the arm. "I've just been hit with an epiphany!"
I grimaced. The last time she'd had an 'epiphany' we'd ended up handcuffed at the local police station charged with indecent exposure after Caitlin was convinced she was in love with the hot new police officer. Funniest Home Videos here I come!
"What's the big idea?" I asked gingerly, my brain conjuring up scenarios involving stakeouts on his front lawn and proclamations of undying love over the school's PA system.
"You ask him to the school dance."
One glance at my terror-struck face, Caitlin sighed and launched into one of her usual pep talks. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I mean you could even just go as friends! Who knows how long he's going to stay single for? You've liked him for god knows how long and I've seen the way he looks at you – and it isn't that kind of look you'd give your little sister. You guys are perfect for one another. You're both easy on the eyes, smart, nice and just throw in the added convenience of living next door to each other and you have the ultimate match. He won't have any excuse for being late."
I grinned weakly. This morning had raised my confidence a notch and I had to admit the idea was growing on me. Only a little. "Have you ever considered a career as a motivational speaker?"
She smiled hopefully. "Just promise me you'll think about it Cally. For me."
"There's a difference between think and actually doing it you know." I had to clarify this point seeing as though she had a tendency for selective hearing.
"That's all I'm asking." She beamed knowingly.
I didn't plan on doing it. Honest. But as always Caitlin's idea somehow managed to wiggle itself into my brain and take up permanent residence.
I even had the whole thing planned out. I would start a baking spree and waltz next-door cake in hand with the excuse 'but we can't possibly finish them all' and make small talk. After a few minutes I'd casually steer the conversation towards the school dance and mention that seeing as though 'I wasn't currently going with anyone maybe you'd like to come with me as friends?'
Who was I kidding? You could call me a coward but I couldn't even sit through an entire Harry Potter movie without screaming let alone march over to Mr. Perfect's house and basically ask him out.
But somehow I found myself making my way towards his front door after my mother's insistence that we offer our neighbours some brownies of which she'd 'baked far too many than we could consume'. Fate has a funny way of playing things out.
Hearing voices from coming from the garage I walked towards it curiously, buzzing slightly with nerves.
"It's crazy." The sound of his voice made my breath catch in my throat and I had to concentrate to ensure my knees did not buckle. I took a quick peek inside and saw him, with his back to me, talking to his dog, Frank. He didn't notice me walk in.
"And I have no idea what I'm going to do. Brendan thinks I should go up and tell her but it just isn't that easy." Excuse me for wanting to melt into a puddle at the sight of a guy pouring his heart out to his German shepherd.
"I know I'm probably going to sound like a total dork but she's beautiful – and I'm not just saying that. She has this really cute dimple in her right cheek when she smiles and she's so caring! She even volunteers at the local soup kitchen. And her laugh makes me feel like bottling it up and giving it to sick people." He laughed and ruffled Frank's coat. "God – I'm a living cliché. But you know what? I think I'm falling for her."
And that's when two things happened. One, I dropped the plate. Two, Frank flew out from in front of Jeremy and bounded towards me. Next thing I knew I was lying flat on my back dazed and confused with a concerned pair of dark green eyes leaning over me and the sound of barking in my left ear. And they say Cinderella had it bad. Ha! Think again.
But even though my backside hurt from the fall, it was nothing compared to the acute ache in my chest. Was it possible to hear your own heart breaking?
"Are you okay? Here let me help you. That was some fall. I'm really sorry; Frank here tends to get a little over-excited when he visitors come over, as you probably know. By the way, how long have you been standing there?" I stood up ignoring his outstretched hand and brushed myself off, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground.
"It's okay. I'm fine." My voice was dull, lifeless – even to my own ears. "I was going to give you . . ." I trailed off gesturing half-heartedly to the broken fragments of a piece of my mother's prize chinaware and the brownies pieces quickly being eaten by one very hungry dog. At least one of us here was happy.
"I'm really sorry," he apologised again. "I'll replace the plate, I promise. And are you sure you're okay?"
"It's okay. Just forget it," I replied tightly before walking away. I never looked back at him once.
"I'm not going."
"What do you mean you're not going? You have to go! It's the formal for god's sake!"
"I'm not going," I repeated turning away from Caitlin standing resolutely in my bedroom doorway.
"This is about Jeremy isn't it? Why won't you tell me what happened? Because if he hurt you then I swear to god I will hunt him down and rearrange his face so well that not even his own parents will recognise him." She scowled at my desk as if the lump of wood were Jeremy himself.
"He didn't hurt me Cait. Not in the way you think."
I heard her move towards me and the bed shift as she sat down on it. "Then what happened?" Her voice was soft, pleading, and after a month of trying to forget I told her.
Caitlin sat there, unmoving from her position on my bed as I poured out the entire story. ". . . he's madly in love with another girl and I know I can't compete. I don't want to." I leaned back against my pillows and closed my eyes. She went a silent for a few minutes before raising her eyes to meet my own.
"Cally, didn't you volunteer at the local Salvation Army last holidays handing out free meals to the homeless?"
I opened my eyes and met her intense gaze. "Yeah. . ."
"And did you know you have a dimple in your right cheek that appears whenever you smile?" I froze, my heart stopping.
"I'm not. Go look in the mirror." I saw the fierce resolve in her eyes and stumbled my way to the bathroom before returning to her smile radiating 'I-told-you-so'.
"It doesn't mean anything." I was not going to waste any more effort living in fantasyland where Jeremy and I were 'meant to be'. I reminded myself that there was absolutely no chance of him ever liking me back. But a stupid little thing called hope decided to invade my heart with Caitlin as its fairy godmother.
"It means everything." She stared at me with steely determination. "You're going. End of story."
I stood with my back against the wall tugging uncomfortably at the hem of my strapless knee-length dress which Caitlin 'just happened' to have and surprise! surprise! was a perfect fit. I guess I just wasn't used to wearing anything other than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. My hair was free of its customary ponytail and Nicky (overjoyed at the prospect of someone in the family 'not committing fashion suicide') was more than happy to do my make-up and lend me a pair of heels.
I surveyed the scene around me, my gaze falling on Caitlin who was in the centre of the dance floor busting some moves on a poor unsuspecting albeit cute member of the chess club. Although determined to remain by my side for the entire evening I'd managed to convince her to release her inner dancing queen. Moving and shaking wasn't really my thing.
I jumped, startled out of my reverie. My heart hammered in my chest my eyes traveled from his pair of leather dress shoes and black trousers to his green button-down shirt, which brought out the colour in his eyes. I hadn't spoken to him since the death of my mother's prize dinner plate.
"J-Jeremy . . . hi . . ." I croaked and glanced away self-consciously before peeking at him from beneath my lashes. He just looked so good standing there that my eyes couldn't help but stray back to him.
"So how's being guardian of the punch bowl working out for you?" he joked motioning towards the table of food and drinks I hadn't walked two feet from all night.
Nervous, I managed a small laugh. "E-Err. . . great." Witty was my middle name.
"You look beautiful." My head shot up at his words and I stared at him unable to mask my surprise. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sent a shy grin in my direction successfully turning my insides into chicken soup.
"O-Oh. . . thanks. Umm . . . you look really beautiful too!" My eyes widened as I realised my mistake. "U-Uh I mean err . . . handsome." I felt my face colour as he threw his head back and laughed making my body feel all light and floaty.
"Listen, I'm really sorry about the other day . . ." he trailed off smiling apologetically and I couldn't help but smile back.
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I'm tougher than I look." I mentally gave myself a pat of the back for speaking three sentences without stuttering. He grinned boyishly and I fought down the urge to throw away all inhibitions and kiss him. It was only after I spotted a couple gazing lovingly into each other's eyes in the corner that I remembered.
"Any luck with the girl you're crazy in love with?" My heart clenched but I forced out the words, my voice breaking slightly on the word 'love'.
He stared at me confused. "What are you talking about?"
Swallowing hard I went on to explain, "The day I came to your garage . . . with the brownies . . . I . . . overheard you talking about the girl you . . . liked . . ." His cheeks reddened as realisation dawned. I'd never found a guy blushing irresistible until now.
"No, not really." I felt torn between a mixture of relief and sympathy. His eyes took on that starry, far-way look that people always got when they were thinking about someone they cared about. "You see she's been ignoring me lately. And even when she isn't she's completely oblivious to the way I feel about her. But I guess as long as she's happy I don't care if she ignores me. She's perfect and she deserves every happiness in the world."
I gazed at my shoes miserably no longer able to look at him. I may have allowed Caitlin to persuade me to attend the dance on a whim that just maybe Jeremy might have feelings for me, but now I was one hundred percent sure that the lucky girl he was crazy about was not me. And I suppose I should have known better than to hope for something that had no chance of happening but sometimes dreams just got the better of you and right now all I had was the feeling of being torn inside out.
He continued, completely unaware that I was falling apart in front of him. "But I haven't heard her laugh in four weeks and she doesn't seem all that happy anymore. So I'm going to do everything in my power to put that smile back on her face because she's the reason I wake up every morning."
I couldn't breathe. It felt as if someone had reached in, wrenched out my heart and thrown it against the wall. There were no words to describe how much I longed to be that girl he was describing, no words to describe how much pain I was in.
"Well, good luck with that." I think the voice came from me but I wasn't too sure because my head suddenly felt separate from my body. I tried for an encouraging smile but felt it die on my face so I turned to leave when he reached out and caught my arm sending a jolt of awareness through my body. He was madly in love with another girl yet I still responded to his every move. Pathetic.
"Don't you want to know who that special girl is?"
Not trusting myself to speak I kept my gaze firmly on the ground, feeling tears prickle at the back of my eyes.
And that's when everything stopped. It was as if we were all part of a DVD and someone had pressed pause. I couldn't hear, I couldn't see, I couldn't comprehend anything except for those two small words. And when I'd finally transformed from one of the walking undead back into a human being I stared at him watching him stare back at me intensely, green eyes smouldering.
"Really?" My voice held disbelief.
He relaxed slightly and smiled shyly. "Yeah." And in that one word all I could feel were millions of tiny bubbles of happiness floating around inside of me like I'd just drunk an entire bottle of champagne.
"Well you see I think I have the solution to your problem." His eyes lit up hopefully. "Maybe the girl was crazy about you too but thought you were in love with someone else. So when you thought that she was ignoring you she was really nursing a broken heart. But now that she knows that you like her back she's happy again and ready to tell you that she's kind of in love with you too." The reaction was instant. His face mimicked the wide smile stretched across my face.
I don't know how we stood there, grinning insanely at each other like two teenage-sized versions of Luna Park but he took a step towards me and bent over so that his face was inches from my own making my knees all but give out and my heart to stop completely. "So what happens now?" Would someone please call an ambulance? I think I'm going into cardiac arrest here!
"Well, according to Walt Disney this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me, marry me, and we ride off into the sunset in an expensive horse-drawn carriage," I replied breathlessly.
"I guess I better get started then," he grinned making my stomach somersault as he closed the gap between us.
And of course! Who could forget? And we all lived happily ever after.
A/N: Yes, I know it's long but a big thank you to all the people who have bothered to read this far and an even bigger thank you to anyone about to review -hint hint- Just to clear up any misunderstandings about any references made: Luna Park is a theme park in Australia famous for the entrance which is pretty much a big face where you walk into it's mouth, and Home and Away which is an Australian soapie (for all the Americans out there it's a little like Bold and the Beautiful i.e. high drama). Thanks.