No Reservations: Ryan's Version (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 1

Author's note: this is a companion novel. Please read "No Reservations" first. ❤️

PART ONE

1995

Can you really fall in love at first sight?

I guess most people would say no . . . But I definitely did. From the very moment Iona Stewart bumped into my friend Danny on the first day of third year, I knew I was doomed.

"Sorry," she apologised to him hurriedly, jumping backwards. Before she fled the scene, I caught a flash of pink-tinged cheeks and big brown eyes, and was struck by the realisation that she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I watched her leave, her long wild ringlets flying behind her.

Who was she? I couldn't remember ever seeing her in school before but I was already desperate to see her again.

"She was cute," Danny laughed. I noticed he was still looking after her too, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to punch my best friend.

I swallowed hard.

"Any idea who she is?" I tried to keep my voice light. I didn't want my friends to know how I was feeling. I didn't really understand it myself.

He shrugged. "No idea." Fair enough. It was a big school, after all.

I was sure I'd see her again at some point - however, I hadn't been expecting her to appear at the computer next to me in my first class of the day ten minutes later. I wasn't mentally prepared for this.

Shit.

I didn't realise I'd actually swore out loud until she giggled and turned to look at me questioningly. I swallowed down another swear word, tried to think of a reason for the first one.

Tell her you forgot your pen, a little voice encouraged me. It'll explain why you swore, and give you an excuse to talk to her.

I decided to do as the little voice said, and watched as she unearthed a pile of stationery from her pencil case in response to my request for a pen. At least I didn't need to feel bad for dishonestly stealing from her stash; she could practically have started her own pen-selling business, and I told her that. The rush I felt from making her laugh again was like no other.

I didn't even know her name and I was already head-over-heels.

I had not been expecting this when I'd forced myself out of bed this morning. I wasn't even sure if it was a welcome feeling for me. Especially as I knew I'd never have a chance with her; I was certain I would not be her type.

"Iona Stewart," the teacher called, and I watched the beautiful girl raise her hand. Iona. I'm fairly certain I accidentally mouthed her first name, and desperately hoped she hadn't noticed. I found myself smiling. It suited her. I almost didn't notice the teacher called out my name next.

I really was not cool.

Which was yet another reason she would never feel the way I felt about her. She could have any guy she wanted. She was so pretty I struggled to continue to make conversation with her. But I forced myself because I wanted her to somehow notice me back. And because I was already apparently addicted to making her smile.

Over the space of the next few months, I slowly got to know her better and realised she wasn't simply beautiful, she was also nice. Sweet and funny, quick-witted and smart. And weirdly, it felt like she got me. Sometimes, in my more delusional moments, I even started to think she might be attracted to me too.