Romantic Fiction

After a few minutes Daisy realised she had been re-reading the same sentence over and over. Just outside her window the pale blue sky and the green rolling hills beckoned her, and she sighed at the work she had been trying, unsuccessfully, to complete. She stared out the window at a tabby cat rolling playfully in the sun; stretching its paws forward and watching a bird hop from branch to branch in the cherry tree behind her house- too lazy to try and catch it. She rose from her desk, pulled on her boots and hopped down the stairs and headed for the back door. Once outside she inhaled deeply, Mr. Harvey was in his garden next door mowing the lawn: she adored the smell of freshly cut grass and a smile rose on her face as the heat of the sun washed over her. She hated that people spent so much time cooped up in their houses. After climbing over her back wall to escape onto the fields behind her house, her skirt caught on a bramble and she became agitated at the thorn clinging to her and trying to steal the pastel green thread from her clothing. On hearing a snuffling noise she turned her head to see a large chocolate Labrador at her feet, “Do you need help with that?” A tall man bent down to retrieve a tennis ball and the dog raced towards it almost tripping over itself with excitement when he threw the ball in the opposite direction. It was Mr. Harvey’s son: Jason. They had known each other for a few years now but he had never seemed interested in her, while she stayed at home with her mum and studied he went off to travel the world; he worked in orphanages and built wells for the local communities. After throwing the ball he massaged his wrist, “I messed up my back when I was in Africa; I offered to carry some bricks to build a school house and overestimated my own strength,” he chuckled at himself; two rows of white teeth shining in the sun. He stretched his arms out, she could see the outlines of his muscles under his shirt; she quickly darted her eyes away. “Could you?” she pointed to the tangled mess of thorns and fabric, “Ouch,” he mimicked her sarcastic tone and smiled again. He moved close to her, his soft hands brushed her arm as he started to deal with the mess she had made. “So how have you been Daisy? My father tells me you’re quite the poet.” As soon as her name passed his lips she felt her heart start to race; the thought of the Harvey’s discussing her at home excited her. “Um... Yeah, I guess: I like to write.” Her voice was much quieter than she had hoped for. He stood up to face her, “Done,” his tone was much deeper and he had a serious look on his face, The moment she realised she had been staring into his deep-blue mysterious eyes for longer than a usual encounter, she felt herself blush. He remained as cool and calm as normal. She gazed down at her skirt; he had removed the thorn without causing much damage, she couldn't help but think about her annoyance of his capability to talk to her without screwing up like she did. Her sandy hair had fallen in front of her face and she almost jumped when his hand delicately brushed it behind her ear and rested against the side of her face. She felt herself lean into his gentle touch: feeling his skin against hers. Her eyes began to close but he pulled away and she was swept back into reality by his barking dog dropping a ball at her feet.