Bryony Fraser - Sunshine on a Rainy Day - A funny, feel-good romantic comedy

‘Yeah – oh, no, I mean – this is different. It’s charming when you do it. But it’s a bit weird if this barman you just had a one-night stand with turns up, even if he’s brought flowers—’

‘You were going to buy me flowers?’

‘Yeah, of course. I mean, I had such a great time with you. And then you’d bolted, and I didn’t really know how to find you.’

‘Again. Literally three black students on my whole course.’

‘But here you are!’

‘Ruining our romantic reunion.’

Jack laughed. ‘A little bit. And I don’t even have your flowers.’

Zoe opened her tote bag. ‘But I have shoes. Can you fix them, please?’

He took the bag and offered his arm. ‘But first. A drink?’

That second date was as good as their first, if that bar conversation could be counted as their first. For their second date, they made an effort: Jack wore a new jacket, Zoe wore the heels Jack had fixed for her, and the pair of them left their film early. They never made it to their restaurant booking, but later found one of the few obliging pizza delivery places still willing to deliver to university halls.

The third date was with Jack’s parents.

On the morning after their pizza-in-bed date, Jack had waved Zoe off at the bus stop and headed back to his room to get ready for his day. Zoe, rummaging in her bag on the top deck of the bus, found that she’d picked up his student ID by mistake. She looked at her watch. Dammit, she didn’t have time to return it now, but she’d swing by and drop it off later.

By the time she was free, it was early evening. She knew she could get buzzed in by anyone, and she’d just slip it under his door if he wasn’t about. Outside his room, however, she could hear muffled voices. She knocked. Jack opened the door in nothing but a towel and face mask, and he stared at her for a moment before he gave a small scream.

‘What are you doing here?’

She held out his ID. ‘Sorry. I picked this up this morning. Good to see you too, Jack.’ Zoe raised an eyebrow.

‘Who’s that, Jack?’ A woman’s voice came from behind the door.

Zoe crossed her arms in front of her and took a deep breath.

‘Jack?’ The same voice, more insistent.

Jack had jammed his foot on the inside of the door, and it was shaking with the effort of the person behind it trying to open it wider. ‘Look, can you just – stop being so silly – can you—’

Zoe switched to her other hip and re-crossed her arms. The door was finally yanked open.

A middle-aged couple stood in Jack’s room, the man stretched out on Jack’s bed reading the Telegraph , the woman, slight and well-dressed, with glossy brown hair, her hand still on the inside door handle.

‘Well, Jack,’ the woman said. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

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