Eyes On You

Chapter 2-3

“Where are you going?” Aimee asks as I get up off the couch.

“Getting another beer,” I reply. “Want one?”

She pauses the film with the remote and shakes her head. “No thanks. Is there any chocolate left?”

I continue into the kitchen. “No, we had the last the other night,” I say, pulling out a bottle of beer from the fridge. “Do you want me to nip out to get some?”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies with a groan. “I suppose I’ll survive.”

Sitting back down on the couch, I notice that Aimee has changed the channel to a cooking show. “What’s this s**t?”

“Masterchef—semi-finals. It’s nearly finished. Just want to see which one goes through.”

“What about the film?”

“Honestly, there’s about two minutes left. Just hang on. The film isn’t going anywhere. And it’s crap anyway.”

I shake my head in disbelief, and then sit back on the couch and take a sip of beer. “Well you picked it.”

She shushes me. “Just two minutes.”

I take another sip of beer. “Okay, but after this—”

The room suddenly fills with a loud cracking sound.

My heart jolts in fright. Aimee grabs my arm, her nails digging into my flesh. “What the f**k was that?” I blurt out, nearly spilling my drink.

“Jesus Christ!” Aimee cries. “Look at the mirror!”

My eyes widen in shock when I see the huge c***k running across the glass, as though someone just took a hammer to it. “How the hell did that happen?”

We get up off the couch to examine it. Aimee prods the glass with a finger. “I don’t know. Never seen something like this happen before. It must have been flawed. Or maybe already broken in the shop and we didn’t notice… Or maybe an earthquake.”

“An earthquake? We live in b****y Wales, Aimee. It’s not exactly China.”

“Well, whatever the cause…I think I just s**t myself.”

I start to peel the shards of glass from the mirror and place them on the floor.

“Don’t put them on the floor,” Aimee tells me, and then runs out into the kitchen. “I’ll get you a plastic bag.”

She returns immediately with the bag, so I drop the pieces in, until all that’s left of the mirror is an empty frame. “Maybe you should take it back to the shop. Get your money back. We could’ve got hurt.”

Aimee carries the bag of glass into the kitchen. “I’m not sure. What if they think I’ve just dropped it on the way home? How can I prove it? They’ll never believe that it just cracked on its own.”

Sitting back down on the couch, I take another swig of beer, finishing off the bottle. “Well, it’s up to you, Aimee. But I would if I were you. Do you want me to come with you? I don’t mind arguing with them.”

Sitting down next to me, she shakes her head. “No, it’s all right. I’ll phone them tomorrow and explain.” She glances at the TV. “s**t. Masterchef is over. I don’t know who went through. b****y hell!”

I hand her the remote. “Just rewind it back.”

“All right,” she replies. “But you do it.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“No. I’ll have to close my eyes in case I see who went through. Don’t want to spoil it.”

I chortle as I point the remote at the TV. “There’s something wrong with you.”