Nothing New for Sophie Drew: a heart-warming romantic comedy by Katey Lovell (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📕

clambered out of the car and greeted me with a grin. His fingers brushed mine as he relieved me of the cool bag. I had a feeling it was going to be a special afternoon.

“You’re kidding me.”

I shook my head emphatically. My hair couldn’t look any worse for the action because the sea air was blowing through it with full force. “I promise you, I’m telling the truth.”

“Never?”

“Not once.”

“Then that’s something we’ll have to rectify. A life without crazy golf is a life half-lived.”

I laughed at his horror as we sauntered along the water’s edge, our feet tracing the tide marks where the dry sand met the wet.

“I don’t know how I’ve managed to reach my thirties without playing a round,” I said with a sombre nod. “My childhood was one of severe deprivation, obviously.”

“It’s a good job you’ve found me. I’m going to make it my mission that we have a game before the day is out.”

“Food first though.”

“Food first,” he agreed, proudly displaying the cool bag. “I had one of Dad’s burgers at lunch, but if you’ve not had anything to eat you must be starving.”

“I’m pretty hungry,” I admitted, hoping my gut wouldn’t vocalise the rumble that was bouncing around it.

“This looks like a good spot for a picnic. What do you reckon?”

I wasn’t going to argue, so Max unfurled the tartan picnic blanket and started arranging the food on the disposable plates. I was glad I’d taken the time to remove all the yellow labels showing the bargain-bucket prices, and hoped Max wouldn’t notice the dates on all the packages were the same day – today.

The sky was bright, the air warm, despite the sun hiding behind clouds that were clumped together like melted marshmallows; and as we tucked into the snacks, watching the frothy spume spilling onto the sand, I was glad I’d trusted my instincts and made the decision to ask Max out, because the afternoon had been lovely, the laughter regularly punctuating our conversation an indication of our mutually dry sense of humour.

“Tell me about your family.” I licked the butter off the top of a cream cracker, aware it was a disgusting habit but not really caring. I’d had enough of acting, of being someone else to try to attract love. No more pretending, no more being someone I wasn’t. From this point forward I was going to be me, warts and all Sophie Drew. “Sounded like it was quite the party.”

Max snorted, his nose crumpling so his glasses shifted on the bridge of his nose. “It’s always like that. Any gathering descends into total chaos before long.”

“Raucous family?” I asked, curious.

“Big family,” he corrected. “I’m one of four brothers. Second oldest. Chris and Grant, who you’ve met, are married, both with kids, so any family occasion is busy and loud, even if it’s just getting together for a meal.”

“I didn’t realise there were four of you. I’m one of three and it’s bad enough.”

“I’m lucky, we all get on, mostly. Sure, there were times growing up where Chris and I came to blows, but that’s probably because we’re so close in age. There’s only a year between us. Well, a year and two days if you’re being really specific.”

“I think that’s why I’ve found it hard with my siblings. They’re really close to each other, and not just in age.” I scrunched the fabric of the blanket between my hands. “I’m four years older than Anna, five and a half older than Nick. It shouldn’t make a difference, but it does. I’m probably jealous of how close they are, and how they seem to have life sussed out as I blunder along from one disaster to another.”

Tension froze in my body, my back as straight as one of the lolly sticks that ran through the centre of the icy treats being sold from the kiosk on the promenade.

Max shuffled closer. His hand, large and warm, rubbed the exposed skin either side of my dress strap. “Today isn’t a disaster though, is it? From where I’m sat it’s pretty damn great.”

His words gave me happy chills. He moved in closer still, sliding his hand over my shoulder blades until his arm was draped around my shoulder.

“No,” I whispered, my eyes still fixed on his. “Today isn’t a disaster.”

And then Max’s face edged closer to my own, our intentions so obvious and so visceral, and as his lips met mine and I fell into his kiss the thrill excited me as much as my very first kiss. But kissing Max was way better than kissing Colin Hammond at the Year 7 school disco. Kissing Max wasn’t awkward or clumsy or to impress my friends. It felt right. Boy, did it feel right. His kiss was full of purpose without being too much. It lasted both a second and forever all at once, and when we parted I was left bewildered, like Alice spiralling down the rabbit hole with no clue what she’d be faced with when she landed.

“Wow,” he said. “That was even better than I thought it’d be.”

“You’d been thinking about kissing me?”

He smiled. “For weeks.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too. Ever since that first day when I came into the shop. I couldn’t explain it, but there was something pulling me to you. I wanted to spend time with you, get to know you better.”

“And now you can.”

When he put his arm around me, I allowed myself to slide my arm around his waist too. Even through his T-shirt the contours of his back felt so solid, so very there.

We sat in quiet solitude for a time. The world carried on around us – children chasing kites that soared on the coastal breeze, waves lapping at the shore like caresses, the seagulls darting and swooping in formations across the pastel sky.

Then Max affectionately patted my back, bringing me to the present, and said, “Are we having that round of crazy golf then?”

And I nodded yes, because I didn’t want