September 3rd, 1990

September 3rd, 1990

At home, England

Can’t say I was sad to see the back of Millie today. One minute, she can be the sweetest person ever then the next she turns into an absolute monster. I find it really confusing and if she keeps it up we won’t be friends for much longer.

Felt at a bit of a loose end after Millie left and was deciding what to do when Jon rang. He came over after work and took me to The Winter Garden for dinner, which was really nice. I’d forgotten what a good laugh we have and how easy he is to get on with.

Back here, I opened a bottle of wine and offered a glass to Jon.

“I had better not.”

“Why not?”

“One more will knock me over the edge for driving.”

“Oh, aren’t you going to stay?”

He smirked and gave me a questioning look.

“Not like that, you ninny!”

“Oh,” he laughed. “You mean in the guest room?”

“Yes!”

“If that’s ok with you, I’d love to.”

“Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d be doing anyway.”

“Great, then yes to the wine!”

The first bottle quickly disappeared and by the time we (he!) opened the second one, we were dancing around the living room.

“I love your house, McGarr,” he said, spinning me around. “It’s very you.

“Aw, cheers for that.”

He stopped dancing. “You’re really special to me, you know.”

“You must be drunk,” I laughed.

“Actually,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I am but I still mean what I said.”

“Thanks, that’s very sweet.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“Ok now I know you’re drunk!”

“Very sweet and very beautiful,” he said, stroking my cheek.

I put my finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

He stepped closer and I’m not going to lie, I was sorely tempted to kiss him until a vision of David’s blonde, floppy hair flashed through my mind, forcing me to take a step back.

“Sorry,” Jon uttered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” I slurred. “We’ve both had a lot to drink.”

“Yup,” he nodded. “But I still mean what I said.”

I smiled. “And you’re still sleeping in the guest room.”

 

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