Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
It doesn’t take long for me to get the movie ready. I watched it with Ant a few weeks back but he didn’t buy into it, since it’s clearly not his kind of thing, but with Gerwyn it’s going to be different. I can tell the very moment he drops down on the sofa next to me and hands me my cupcake in cream. He looks almost as excited as I am.
I click play, relaxed and at home despite the fact I’m still dressed in my blouse and skirt from the office. I don’t give a crap if I get crumbs and cream all over me as I munch and watch, since I’m way too engrossed for that. It’s not just the movie I’m watching, though. It’s Gerwyn. His smiles and his laughter and the way he stares at the screen.
I love how happily he spoons the cream up from his plate when his cupcake is finished, making sure to take advantage of every slather of it, just like I do.
I’m not expecting him to be nearly so expressive when the songs start rolling in. He sings along to Do You Love Me and shoots me a huge grin, and it gives me a glimpse of the man at the podium again – the strength in his voice underneath the occasional awkwardness of his exterior. I can’t help but laugh and sing along at a decent volume, and I feel free and wild as I join in with Gerwyn, both of us tapping our feet to the beat as we sing along to the soundtrack.
Red wine helps with the ease and the songs keep coming. We giggle and chat and exclaim at the tension points as the film rolls on, and by the time it builds to its crescendo we’re both jigging on the sofa so much that the cushions are bouncing.
I dig into myself for another bout of confidence, because why not? I’ve had a dream of dancing to the end of this movie since I was a little girl, but Jack never wanted to go for it, and Ant just laughed at my suggestion.
“Shall we dance?” I ask Gerwyn, and his mouth opens, hanging there in shock for a second before he laughs.
“Dance? I haven’t danced in years.”
“Come on!” I say. “Let’s do it.”
He looks like he’s considering it as the first notes chime in, and I figure he’s going to brush it off with a nah, don’t be silly, but he doesn’t. He gets up from the sofa and holds out a hand.
“Alright, let’s do it. I’m a shit dancer, though. Be warned.”
I feel like a teenager as he pulls me up from the couch and tugs me to him. We’re both giggling and grinning as he guides me around the coffee table to a clear spot. And then he dances with me.
He was lying. He’s not a shit dancer at all. He twirls me and supports me as he pushes me backwards, and it’s so brilliant and hilarious that I can’t hold back the laughter as we dance like we’re the characters. It’s so natural and easy that I feel my soul spark with life. We move to the beat, fun and relaxed enough that I feel set free of every scrap of shitty self-hate I’ve been caught up in.
When Gerwyn does his solo performance I’m doubled up, because he’s just so funny as well as so bloody brilliant at dancing, even though he’s making light of it.
And that’s when it comes, of course. The lift.
“I can’t!” I protest, imagining myself going flying into the TV, but he urges me forward with a come on, you can do it!
So, fuck it, I do it. I make a dash across the living room and jump as high as I can, and he catches me with enough strength that he lifts me up, laughing underneath as I squeal and try to stay steady. My hands are on his shoulders and I’m certain I’m going to tumble.
“Do it,” he says again, “I’ve got you.”
I let go of his shoulders and spread my arms wide and we manage to hold it together for a few seconds in some vague form of elegance.
It’s only when he lowers me back down to the floor and we’re doubled up with laughter that I catch sight of the figure by the sofa.
Shit!
The movie is playing so loud that I hadn’t heard the car pull up or the front door open, and neither had Gerwyn, it seems, since he jumps back in shock like we’ve been crept up on by an intruder. But of course it’s not an intruder. It’s Ant.
“My God! Hey!” I call out and rush over there, grabbing him tight and landing a kiss straight on his lips. “Did you see us?! I did the Baby lift and didn’t crack my head on the TV screen! What a win!”