Mirror, Mirror

"I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her."

The mirror didn't answer: it hadn't responded to any of the lines she'd trotted out over the last hour or so, and she'd resorted to poor film quotes and song lyrics in desperation. The cat sitting on the dresser next to the full length mirror canted its head and meowed faintly.

"Oh Smokey, what do I do? I can't just ask him direct, can I?"

The cat didn't answer this time, and began nonchalantly licking a paw, smoothing the fur over its ears in a repetitive motion. The girl sighed, staring back into her own brown eyes, worry lines marring the skin on her forehead.

"Do you think he loves me Smokes? We've been going out for ages now, but he seems content to just hang out and have a bit of fun. Am I being too serious about all this? Should I just enjoy the time and worry about the future later? Do you think he finds me attractive? Too many questions for a cat to answer, eh Smokey?

"Perhaps I should do something with this?" She ran her hands through her hair and watched as it fell in tumbling curls to her shoulders. "Or maybe I should wear something more seductive than just jeans and a jumper: maybe I should show him I'm a grown woman, not just a little girl living at home with her mum, despite being twenty five. Maybe... but that's not really me, is it..."

She ran a hand down the ginger tom's back, smiling sadly as he arched into her hand. "You may be a boy, old friend, but you can't really help me this time, can you old moggy cat?" The cat closed his eyes and purred as she rubbed a knuckle under its chin. "I don't want to lose this one," she added as her hand dropped away from her furry friend of ten years.

The cat jumped down off the dresser and rubbed against her leg briefly, wandering toward the door and meowing loudly. "Oh typical," she muttered. "You're not even sympathetic, you just want feeding, as usual. Typical man; stomach first, listen to woman second."

The cat padded down the treads and meowed plaintively as faint voices carried up the stairs. "Traitor," she muttered. "You're meant to be here keeping me company not prostituting yourself to the first person with a can opener."

Tapping the play button on her stereo, she closed her eyes to the strains of her favourite album of the moment and nodded along to the beat with a smile as the music lifted her soul. With the song rising in beat, but not so loud as to wake her father who'd worked the previous night, she began to move around the room to the tune. As the mellow tones of the soul classic hit its peak, she stepped back from the mirror, pouted seductively and struck a pose.

Holding it for a few seconds in front of the reflective glass, she mentally catalogued all the 'bad' bits as the tune petered out, and collapsed on the bed with another sigh. She slapped the 'off' button on the remote to draw the comforting blanket of melancholy solitude back around herself.

She hugged her knees and stared at her reflection again, the mirror once more bearing the brunt of her bitterness. "Who do you think you're kidding, Mindy? You're just a girl standing in front of a mirror trying to be something you're not, dreaming about a man who might love you, chasing clouds and dreams, and wondering whether your arse looks too big in your favourite, scraggy old jeans."

"Your bottom doesn't look too big at all."

She whirled at his voice, and blushed to the roots of her hair. He was standing in the door to her room, a box of her favourite chocolates clutched tight in one hand.

"I mean, not that I've been looking, not that it's not nice of course, it's very lovely, as is the rest of you, and your hair's nice. I... er..." The tumbling words petered out with his breath and the man paused. The blush swam the width of the room to his face and he smiled nervously. "Er... your mum let me in and told me to come up. Your cat tried to stop me. Can I stop babbling now please?"

She laughed and hid behind her hair in embarrassment. "Smokes is always hungry. How long were you standing there?"

"From about 'Who do you think you're kidding Mindy'. I was trying to sneeze or cough or find a creaky floorboard to tread on or something, but you were listening to the music and doing the pouty pose thing, and I wasn't quite sure where to put myself."

He paused again and another rush of words tumbled from his lips. "Don't try and be anything other than you, you're lovely as you are."

"Oh shit," she mumbled dipping her head so that her curls hid her face again. 'The Iron Curtain' he'd called it once, jokingly. Her automatic reaction to embarrassment, praise or anything resembling a compliment; to hide behind her hair.

There were a few moments silence and then, to his eternal surprise, her head snapped up decisively, she brushed her hair back from her eyes and she stood, a look of defiance slapping away the blush. "Well?"

"Er... Well what?"

She moved in close. "Do you love me?"

"I brought you dark chocolate."

"Don't change the subject damn it. Do you?"

"Open the box..."

As she opened the lid, he sank to one knee and something twinkled among the velvet dark treasure inside.

He grinned shyly. "Well, do you?"

Downstairs, a cat purred. The mirror said nothing.

~~~ The End ~~~

Another little prompt challenge from the Wattpad Seniors group. This one, a short story (between 500 and 2000 words) based on a choice of two prompts but with a Romantic nod. 

The prompts we had to choose from, and had to include as the opening line, were : 

"I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her." Source: Notting Hill.

"My life is as good as an Abba Song. It's as good as Dancing Queen." Source: Muriel's Wedding. 

As you can see I chose the first one and went full on mushy Romance which was rather fun for a change. The story stands at just under 1000 words.