Advice‘What in the f**k happened to your eye?’ Rosie said, with a genuine sense of concern about her tone. The bruising and swelling instantaneously erased much of the awkwardness that had been in the air following the Miss Croal issue. My bad eye saved the day.
‘It was nothing,’ I said, just delighted to see her.
‘Nothing my arse. It’s pure swollen up.’ She reached out to touch it; I flinched like they do in the movies. Very melodramatic indeed. I was playing the hero role: tortured, almost broken and self-pitying yet still alive and ready to fight another day. Did I mention handsome? (How handsome can one be with a shiner?)
‘It looks much worse than it is.’
‘Who hit you?’
‘A snowball.’
‘But there’s no snow.’
‘It was more like an iceball really.’
‘Fuck.’
‘That’s what I said as we
