Out of Reach

This is a story of a teenage romance which blossoms into something beyond beautiful. It has twists and turns, where a young couple fall in and out of love with each other and other people. How do their lives pan out in the end though?


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34. The day we'd been waiting for

 

“Thank you again for taking care of the kids for us.” Megan says to Karen, “I know you have a lot on with Polly and stuff.” Polly is Karen’s youngest; she was born 2 months ago.    

   “It’s a pleasure darling, honestly. I love catching up with Daisy too, she’s like my sister.” Karen laughs.     

   “It’s nice she gets on with Rylie too.” She says, and they both nod together, agreeing.     

   “Right then sweetheart, mummy and daddy have to go now.” I say to Lucy, who’s sat contently in my arms. She’s in her pyjamas because we gave her a bath before dropping them off. She kisses me with thick slobbery lips.    

   “Bye bye daddy.” She says.    

   “Bye sweetheart.” I pass her to Megan.    

   “Goodbye my little angel.” She says, kissing her cheek.    

   “Bye mummy.”    

   “Bye Daisy my love.” Megan shouts through the open front door of Karen’s house. It’s pretty, and has 4 bed rooms and a double garage.    

   “Bye mum, bye dad, see you tomorrow.” She calls.    

   “Bye sweetheart.” I shout back.    

   “Okay then, you two have fun!” Karen says.    

   “Thanks Karen, see you tomorrow.” I shout over my shoulder, and then get in my car which is parked precariously on the street.    

   “Are you ready?” I say.    

   “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Megan chirps up.     

   “Okay, let’s role.” I turn on the ignition and set off down Birch Street. It’s the 30th of June, and the sun is setting in the horizon. It’s painted beautiful pinks and purples across the sky, spilling carelessly, but looking perfect.     

   The journey we’re taking is a long one, out of the town and into a very pretty, small village. I’m taking Megan to a restaurant. The place we’re going is called “Bella Notte”; it’s Italian for beautiful night. It also has rooms to rent out for the night, so we are staying there.    

   We pass every Metal Village estate, and then drive outside the town. We don’t talk the whole way there.    

   “This is it.” I say after I’ve pulled into a rundown car park and turned off the ignition.     

   “It’s lovely.” Megan admires the scenery.     

   “Let’s see what the foods like.” We walk in to the little white building and we’re immediately attended to.     

   “Hello, hello, what can I do for you this fine evening?” An Italian accent flows from a small mans mouth.     

   “We’ve made a reservation?” I say.    

   “Ahh, very good, very good. And what name is it under please?”     

   “Alden.” I state.    

   “Ahh yes, table 5, by the window. Follow me.” He leads us to a table I asked for specifically, situated right beside a curtained window, encompassing the view of a pretty lit up village, and beyond that, rolling hills that go on forever. The sky fills most of the picture, the sun nearly completely hidden, and stars beginning to filter into the scene.    

   “Will this do?” the gentleman asks.    

   “Yes, this is perfect, thank you.” I say, nodding my head in approval. He claps his hands in delight.    

   “Excellent. Can I fetch you any drinks?” he whips out a pad and pencil from his pocket. I glance at Megan.    

   “A bottle of red?” I ask her.    

   “Sounds good to me.” She smiles.    

   “A bottle of red it is.” Then he walks off.    

   “This is lovely Dylan, thank you.” Megan says. She looks pretty in the dim light, her features lit up.    

   “I’m glad you like it.” I say.    

   “You’ve thought of everything.” She says, her smile sweet.    

   “I try my best.” I smile back at her across the table, and second by second my nerves wobble more, my heart pounds harder, and my hands go stickier.    

   “One bottle of red wine.” The same Italian man produces us with a bottle of red, and pours it into our glasses.     

   “Thank you.” Megan smiles up at him, and I nod in approval.     

   I pull out a menu and pass it to Megan, then take one myself. I scour the pages, but I’m not hungry; my stomach’s in knots. I decide on a simple carbonara.     

   “Can I take your order?” A young English waitress asks us.     

   “Could I have the lasagne please?” Megan asks politely.    

   “Of course, and for you sir?”     

   “The spaghetti carbonara please.” I say. She smiles and walks off.    

   The food comes and we eat contently, talking about anything and everything. I feel like it’s our first date, and it’s amazing, because at the same time I feel I’ve known her all my life, and I have.    

   I watch Megan eat her last mouth full and swallow. She dabs her mouth with her napkin and smiles at me.    

   “Megan.” I say.    

   “Dylan.” She smiles, resting her elbows on the table and intertwining her fingers together.     

   “I need to ask you something.” I say. I watch her eyes flicker in the candle light, and something runs through her, happiness?    

   “Go ahead, ask away.”     

   “Are you sure? Because once I’ve asked, it’ll be out there forever, and if you don’t like the question, it might just ruin me.”    

   “Dylan,” she reaches for my hands and looks into my eyes, “Ask me.”     

   I take a deep breath and then stand up, reaching in my back pocket. I fumble around, my hands shaking, and then crouch down on one knee by her side.     

   “Megan Strouler, would you do the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?” I say the words slowly, my voice shaking.  

   Megan’s eyes fill with tears as I present are small diamond ring, just big enough to fit her slim fingers.    

   She kisses me hard.    

   “Of course I will.” Her face is covered in tears, and so is mine. The room is a quiet wave of applause behind the romantic music that’s been playing all evening to “set the mood”.   

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