Lost Love

10. Get Lucky

‘Ozzy said about that,’ she says with a grim expression.

‘Did he talk much about it? The accident I mean?’ I ask her.

‘Oh yeah. When he came back to uni, the poor boy was inconsolable. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, as if talking about you would help him and you. He didn’t want to come back without you, poor guy.’

There’s a knock at the door and Lucia lets the person walk in. I smile seeing its Ozzy and he extends his hand to me. ‘Dinner awaits.’

I stand up and take his hand. ‘We’ll have to catch up another time, Lucia.’

‘Definitely,’ she concurs, as I follow Ozzy out and into his bedroom. I’m taken by complete surprise as I walk into his room and see he’s set up a little table for two, with a chair placed either side of the table. The room is dimly lit, with the sun setting which can be seen from his window. He’s tidied up and the room looks so romantic.

‘Oh Ozzy, this is beautiful,’ I gush. This looks film worthy the effort he’s gone to.

‘Good, so if the foods shit, you won’t hate me,’ he tells me with a wink, before pulling a chair out  for me and tucking me in. ‘What do you want to drink? I’ve got wine, cider, vodka, pretty much whatever.’

‘Whatever you think I can take,’ I tell him, not knowing the difference between the drinks.

He pops off to the kitchen and comes back in with a drink for each of us. It’s only then I notice how handsome he looks tonight. He’s gone all out with a plain white shirt and thin green tie and beige chino trousers. His hair is dishevelled in only a way Ozzy can get away with and his face is cleanly shaven too. He goes over to his phone which is placed on some dock station and soon music begins to echo around the room and I smirk at him.

‘Get lucky, Ozzy?’ I smirk at him, as I hear the song lyrics play out across the room, which I’ve been hearing all over the campus radio station this week.

I bop my head along to the beat, before taking a sip of my drink and wrinkling my nose at the alcohol hitting the back of my throat.

‘What is it?’ I ask, referring to the strong drink. 

‘Vodka and cranberry.’

‘Can I swap this for some lemonade please?’ I ask him, handing him the drink. ‘It’s a bit too strong.’

He nods and quickly changes my drink, before coming back in the room with a glass of lemonade. ‘There you go.’

Ozzy notices the song is still playing, so asks ‘Fancy a dance?’ He asks, already standing up and taking my hand to follow him.

‘I can’t dance,’ I tell him, laughing as he tries to move us both side to side to the music.

‘Believe me, you can dance,’ he tells me with conviction, as his hands rest at my waist. My arms hang limply by my side and he grins affectionately at me.

‘Place your arms around my neck,’ he instructs with a playful smile.

‘And why would I do that?’ I question, equally as teasing.

‘So you can be closer to me, obviously,’ he says smirking.

Confidently, I link my arms around his neck and am immediately shocked at how close we are. I watch as Ozzy sings the song lyrics to me, causing my cheeks to flush in embarrassment. The song lyrics are definitely alluding to one eventful pass time, so I try to avoid listening to what the song is saying and instead move to the music, with Ozzy’s body moving with mine in sync. I feel his hands move a little lower to rest on the top of my bum and I place my hands on top of his and pull them in front of my body with a smile.