A Million Things I Could Do

'A Million Things I Could Do,
But I Only Want To Love You.'

My Entry to the Valentine's Day Writing Competition.


1. On Stage

I stood on the stage, my dress hanging delicately above my knees, the mic gripped firmly in my hands. It was the night of my final performance in Valentine Bay, the tiny little town of love...

The music started, becoming louder and louder, the lighting in the audience dulled, as I scanned it for one person in particular. My heart leapt as I caught a pair of enchanting green eyes winking at me through the bleekness. Tingling inside, I faced the audience. Then, I was carried away on the tune. Some would say it was my passion for true music, but secretly I knew it was because I was singing it for him.


At times I wonder what makes him so special, but when I think about how we met. It couldn't have been more like a love story, really, I'd gotten lost while trying to get to the hotel where my boyfriend had been staying, I must've forgotten the map in a rush to ease the lovesick pain that had gripped my heart, like a strong, unrelinquishing fist, that had been there since he left to see his family. I stopped the car, waiting for someone to walk by, and that someone just happened to be my Romeo. He told me where to go, and asked if I would take him with me, telling me that he was heading that way too. Although, at the time, I didn't realise that he had been walking away from where I was going. We got to the hotel, entered the lobby, and he looked as though he was about to say goodbye, when clumsily, I tripped over the doorstop. Just when I thought my face would meet the hard surface underneath the carpet, two strong hands seized my arms. I looked up into the same green eyes I was watching now, flushing a tender shade of pink. Heat radiated from where his fingers gripped my upper arms.


I cursed Fate as the remaining people in the room disappeared, revealing my boyfriend then, standing stunned, with a look of Betrayal on his face.

"We're over." He told me, his voice devoid of my emotion. I couldn't tell whether it was my heart shattering, or the shattering of the glass door as he slammed it shut behind him. The boy who I didn't know the name of at the time must've seen the tears before they came, as he stepped closer to me, breathing nervously onto my hair. He didn't try to wipe the droplets away, just embraced me warmly as I gradually settled against his chest. I could hear his heart beating in time with mine, as if making up for the beats I lost in heartbreak.

"You know, you're beautiful when you cry. If you don't mind me saying." I heard the deep voice utter. Looking up into his eyes for the first time, I saw passion and care there, all clear, just waiting for the right person. And I knew I was that person. My clenched fists dropped to his hands, taking them in mine and holding onto them like I was falling and his fingers were strong lengths of rope.


I guess they were, in the end. With him, my heart healed rapidly, and despite the remaining scars, his friendship kept me going. The rocky road had come to an end, all thanks to his kindess, patience, and most of all, control. Though he had been careful never to show it, I could tell he wanted more than what we had. Now that I was over my past, I was beginning to feel that way too. One day, I was sitting in my London flat, Daniel, as he had later told me he was called, had just gone to find a good takeaway to bring back for dinner. When he came back, we ate dinner in silence. I squirmed. I wasn't used to this awkwardness, the tension was so thick that it could almost touch it-he had been odd with me since this morning when I walked in on him, wearing only his boxer shorts. It wasn't like I hadn't before...

"I can't do this." He said, placing his slice back in the box.

"Do what?" I asked, suddenly defensive.

"I can't just be friends anymore."

"Well, what do you want me to do? Kiss you and tell you I love you?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you?" He questioned, suddenly anxious.

"I err...emm...I..." Fidgeting, I struggled for words. I didn't know what I was thinking, I leaned forward, pressing my lips softly to his. The kiss was tender and sweet, but lasted until the need for oxygen was obvious. The tension melted around us, I felt the sensation of his lips on mine linger. Finally, I found the words I was looking for. "I love you." We both knew it, however saying it made it seem ever more real, ever more passionate.


And that's how my life became the story of Romeo and Juliet. Or perhaps Daniel and Emma. The music faded out, and my outfit fluttered elegantly back into place, as the winds that had tossled it, calmed. The large light stands around the clusters of chairs were turned on once more, meanwhile, I curtseyed and bowed to the wild audience, leaving the stage, for the cosy dressing room I would soon be forced to leave behind.

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