Cwtch Me If You Can by Beth Reekles

Chapter One
    Tonight is perfect.
    The lighting in Bella Italia is soft and warm, and even though our table is rickety, and my pasta was only lukewarm, tonight is just perfect. At least, I think it is. Will keeps fidgeting, like he’s nervous, and looking at his watch or around at everyone else.
    But, I tell myself, I can’t blame him for being distracted. There’s a lot to look at. It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and the restaurant is packed with couples out for a romantic meal together. Most of them are as young as we are.
    I’ve always loved Valentine’s Day – the grand gestures to show someone just how much you love them, the ‘I love yous’… I smile at Will, thinking how much I love him.
    The waiter comes over to ask if we’d like a dessert menu. I open my mouth to say yes, but Will gets there first.
    â€˜No, thanks. We’re good.’
    I try not to let my disappointment show. Maybe Will just has other plans for us and doesn’t want to hang around much longer. I bite back a smile, letting my mind wander.
    Will clears his throat, like he has something serious to say, and I sit up straighter. Since we started dating, Will’s been pretty big on romantic gestures – but he’s always excited about them. Never serious. Serious makes me nervous.
    I study my boyfriend’s face, worry pricking my stomach – suddenly, my spaghetti carbonara isn’t sitting so well. Will’s brown eyes are looking at the scratch on the table his short fingers are tracing, and his eyebrows are drawn together, tense. His shoulders move up and down and he shifts in his seat.
    Has he forgotten his wallet? Maybe he has, and he’s worried I’ll be upset when he asks me to pay for our romantic meal instead, when he’d promised me that this was his treat.
    I couldn’t be mad about that. This is Will . I love him. We’ve been going out since we met in September – we were both at the same club, huddled against a wall near the bar because we didn’t really like that kind of scene. Our shared hatred of grinding with the other drunk, sweaty people gave us something to talk about – and we hit it off straight away. We’ve been together ever since.
    Aside from how much we have in common, Will’s a decent-looking guy. He’s got long eyelashes most girls would kill for, and thick blonde hair that sweeps over his face like a guy from a Hollister advert. Although he’s not really built like a guy from a Hollister advert.
    Will has to know I won’t be upset with him for forgetting his wallet.
    But as I see how stressed-out and uncomfortable he looks, I start to realise that this is something more serious than him not being able to pay on Valentine’s Day.
    I bring up a hand to fiddle with the necklace he gave me at Christmas – a slim silver chain with a sterling-silver heart pendant. My heart is in my throat.
    â€˜Will,’ I say, my voice coming out choked, like I’m about to cry. ‘What’s going on?’
    He sighs. It’s a long, tired sigh that fills me with dread.
    â€˜Um…’
    â€˜Will, just tell me. Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it. It’ll be fine.’ Panic makes my words run together, but I think he understands me.
    He’s shaking his head. ‘This… this is really difficult for me to tell you, Alex, you have to understand that. And I’m – I’m really sorry to have to do this, but… well, I can’t do this any more. It’s not fair to lead you on.’
    Lead me on?
    Oh, God , I think, he isn’t… is he?
    But he is.
    He’s breaking up with me.
    On Valentine’s Day.
    Will carries on, but through the blood rushing in my ears, his voice sounds distant. He says how he doesn’t feel things are working out between us, that he doesn’t see us going anywhere or having much of a future. He says that he knows this must be