At First Sight by Hannah Sunderland (best inspirational books txt) 📗

Now, I wasn’t the biggest fan of anything zombie-related, but even so, I’d rather have added another three films to this marathon, than hear her whinging commentary for a moment longer about how the special effects in The Walking Dead were so much better.

The final grainy black and white shots of the film played out and the house lights came up. I shuffled, self-consciously, down in my seat and shoved another handful of what seemed to be never-ending popcorn into my black-lipped mouth.

Charlie let out a satisfied sigh and turned to look down at me from where he sat, upright and confidently unfazed, in his seat.

‘Jesus, are yer still embarrassed?’ He chuckled. ‘How do yer think anyone is going to recognise yer with all that crap on your face?’ He reached over and took a handful of popcorn. ‘Go on, I know that signature smile is still under there somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied haughtily. ‘But it’ll be just my luck to meet someone I haven’t seen in years when I’m here looking like an idiot.’

‘An idiot? I’ll have yer know that you’ve about fifty quids’ worth of make-up on your face. If anythin’, yer look like a movie-quality badass,’ he said, proudly. ‘Did yer at least enjoy the film?’

‘It was … okay.’ I allowed. His brows arched into an exaggerated look of distress. ‘I never claimed to be a zombie fan. Never have I ever claimed to like this stuff. However, here I am, looking like a complete loser in itchy make-up and sitting through a six-hour zombie film marathon to make you happy.’

‘And I thank yer for it.’ He sniggered and scratched at his own zombie nose, the entirety of his prosthetic moving a few millimetres with every unsatisfying scratch of his nail.

‘Yer heard from yer fella since the other night?’ he asked.

‘He’s not my fella. He’s just a fella. And fella really is a bad word to describe him. He’s not someone you’d look at and the word fella would spring to mind.’ He rolled his eyes at my babbling and waited for me to actually answer his question. ‘No, he hasn’t been in touch. Why’d you ask?’

He micro-shrugged. ‘I just wondered if he was okay. Couldn’t have been easy for him to open the door and see such a strappin’ young man with his girl.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. He’s seen Ned before,’ I jested.

‘Oh, aren’t yer just hilarious,’ he said sarcastically and chuckled to himself as he started picking pieces of popcorn from where it sat in various places around his person.

How I’d left things with Joel had been sitting awkwardly in my stomach ever since he’d turned up at the house and I didn’t quite know how to handle it. Was I supposed to ignore him? I guess, ignoring him would be the most compassionate way to handle it – just leave him to do whatever he wanted with the information he had. And anyway, if I did text him, what would I say? Sorry?

I wasn’t sorry that I’d called quits on us. It was time, and I was exhausted by carrying the ten-ton corpse of our relationship around with me all the time. I wasn’t sorry that I’d met Charlie either. Yes, Charlie was not the most straightforward of people to have a second try at love with, but I was feeling something again and I wasn’t going to apologise for that.

I’d known from about six months in that Joel loved me more than I would ever love him, but nonetheless, I did – love him that is.

‘He still loves yer, that’s plain to see,’ Charlie said.

‘I know.’ I sighed and leaned back heavily in my chair. ‘But he needs to sort himself out. Figure out what he wants to do with his life and then do it. If that boy completed one thing in his whole life, it would be a bloody miracle. He used to argue that da Vinci never finished anything. But I always found it hard to believe that when da Vinci decided not to continue with something, it wasn’t because he’d much rather be sat around in five-day-old boxer shorts, watching Storage Wars and drinking soup out of a mug.’

‘We all have our moments where we lose sight of what’s important. It’s easier if yer don’t care about things, but after a while the carin’ catches up with yer.’

‘Do you speak from experience?’ I asked.

‘Maybe a little.’ He blew a laugh through his nose. ‘Would yer take him back – Joel?’

‘No. I didn’t like who I was with him.’

‘I understand that.’ He seemed a little nervous, the skin around his eyes scrunching into little crow’s feet that remained etched into his face paint even when he moved his face. ‘Who I was, up until as recently as a couple of years ago, I don’t know if you’d have liked him.’

‘Why?’ I asked, worried. How different could he have been? My brain instantly started concocting tons of terrible scenarios in which he was a drug addict, shooting up in alleyways outside nightclubs, or some sex-crazed womaniser, who owned his own sex swing and who would probably be bored to tears by anything I had to offer.

‘I was just a bit of a fake, yer know? Cocky, sure of himself. Come t’think of it, I was just like my uncle, just without his likable charm.’

‘You? Without charm? Don’t pretend like that’s even slightly possible. You’re a textbook brooding rom-com charmer. There’s no fighting it; it’s just who you are.’

He looked at me from the corners of his eyes and smiled, revealing white teeth and causing those half-moon lines to crease his cheek behind all the grey make-up.

‘You think too well of people,’ he said as people around us began to settle back in for the second film.

‘I’m an optimist. I see the best in people, even if they’re reluctant to show it.’

He looked up fully now, his eyes once more agleam with mischief. ‘I’m not sayin’ that I kicked puppies or talked