Lost and Found

She watched him as he moved over her, his eyes drinking her in. "You're overdressed," he commented lightly before hooking a finger under the elastic of her panties and tearing them off. "That's better."

Her thighs parted expectantly and he smiled at the open invitation. "You never were much good at waiting, were you?"

"Shut up and fuck me now," she pleaded, and just to illustrate the urgency of her request, she arched her back and caressed her breasts teasingly.

It was enough. With a low groan, Marc sank into her hot, eager body and pulled her hard against him. Rosie wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for the ride. She came quickly, losing her grip on reality for a few blissful moments until she felt Marc join her. They collapsed in a sweaty tangle of limbs on the dusty bed, the faint echoes of music occasionally reaching the little turret room in the stars.

* * *

"Rosie, there's something else we need to talk about," Marc said quietly as she lay there, almost asleep. His arm tightened up around her waist and she opened her eyes.

"If you want to tell me you shagged half the county while I was away, don't bother," she joked, although a sudden fear that it might well be the case sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"No, don't be stupid. As if I'm interested in anyone else!"

"Well what then?"

He rolled on to his back. "A couple of weeks after you stropped off, I was offered another job out of the blue."

"Really?" Rosie propped herself up on one arm and grinned at him. "That's great news!" She knew how much he had hated working for his father at the haulage company.

Marc said nothing for a moment. He appeared to be thinking about something serious for deep lines furrowed his brow and Rosie had a sudden premonition that maybe this new job was not one she was going to like.

"Don't tell me, it's in another country," she said half seriously, unwilling to think about all the other unwelcome possibilities of a potential change of career, like joining the army, becoming a male escort...

"Yes, actually it is." He watched her face intently.

For a moment Rosie felt relieved that she was wrong about the army bit, then she realised the implications of what he was saying. "What other country exactly?"

"Australia."

"You mean like Australia, that place on the other side of the world?"

"Yeah, Rosie, nice to know your geography lessons weren't totally in vain!"

Rosie ignored the jibe and turned away from him, willing her eyes not to weep tears of bitter loss. The sudden realisation that Marc was leaving made her feel wretched beyond measure. There was no way they could sustain a long distance relationship—it was doomed.

"Well I guess that's it then," she sniffed. "We can call this a farewell fuck for old times' sake." Her voice broke on the last word and she buried her face in the pillow before the tears she was desperately trying to hold back escaped like a tidal wave.

"Rosie, don't be like this!" Marc tried to pull her back, but she refused to move.

It felt like a betrayal. As soon as she was off the scene, he had made plans to disappear. If she had not have come back this weekend, she wondered if he would have even bothered saying good bye, or would he have just sent a postcard from Bondai Beach instead? It just went to prove how little he cared about her. All she had ever been was a bit of fun. The bastard!

"Don't be like what?" she sobbed. "An idiot?" She sat up and grabbed her clothes, pulling them on wildly. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the moon shining in through the small mullioned windows in the eaves. For a second she turned and saw Marc, watching her sadly, his familiar features etched in silver, and her heart broke.

She had really believed everything was going to be okay. She had hoped that all this mess was now behind them and she could go back to college and their relationship would pick up where it had left off, albeit not seeing each other quite as regularly. But now it had all gone up in smoke. Marc was buggering off to the other side of the world, and she was being dumped.

"Have fun," she spat as she grabbed her bag and dashed out of the room, refusing to look at Marc.

"Rosie, wait!"

But she ignored him. After all, what was left to say? As far as she was aware: nothing.

* * *

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur. Rosie wandered through each and every day in a mindless daze. She ate, she studied, she even went out once, but most of the time, she just sat in her room and thought about Marc while her phone stayed silent.

The day after the party, she had hoped he might come around and talk to her, but there was no word from him and eventually she gave up. Of course she could have made the first move, but she was too stubborn. Besides, what was the point? He was leaving her and she knew she would not be seeing him again. End of story.

The fact that it was Valentine's Day tomorrow was not something that had escaped Rosie's notice. She eyed the red envelope on her dresser glumly. The card had forced itself into her hand that afternoon as she wandered aimlessly round the supermarket. Even as she paid for the damned thing, she still could not for the life of her work out why she was bothering.

"It's too late to fucking post it," she grumbled as she shoved it inside the bag along with the chicken super noodles currently providing most of her daily dose of nutrition. The cashier smiled at her sympathetically.

"Deliver it yourself, dear," she advised. "Quicker than Royal Mail anyhow." With a dry chuckle she turned to the next customer and began scanning their shopping.

No point in delivering it myself, Rosie thought hopelessly. Marc was probably already gone by now; no doubt lying on a sun kissed beach, eyeing up some tanned blonde surfer chick. Bastard.

"Coming out to the student union bar?" asked Rosie's friend, Megan, when Rosie staggered in to their flat with two heavy shopping bags.

"Nope, got stuff to." There was no way she could face being sociable. The thought of it made her want to be sick.

"Aw come on, Rosie, you've had a face like wet weekend in Brighton for ages! Cheer up, please. I can't stand you being so depressed."

"I'm not depressed!" snapped Rosie with a scowl. "I'm just...hormonal!"

She threw her supplies in the empty cupboards and stropped off into her bedroom, slamming the door for good measure. Within a short space of time, she heard Megan leave and she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.

Another night in on my own, she thought, before she started to cry again. The rest of her miserable existence stretched in front of her like a life sentence. Nothing mattered without Marc, but it was too late: she had blown it...again.

* * *

The sound of the doorbell chiming loudly woke Rosie up with a start. She glanced at her bedside clock through red and puffy eyes. It had been a long night and she had sobbed for at least half of it.

"Fucking posty!" she moaned as she grabbed a ratty dressing gown and stumbled downstairs. There was no point in expecting Megan to emerge from her room; judging by the loud groaning in the early hours, her flatmate had pulled last night.

When Rosie saw a red card in the postman's hand, she felt like screaming at him. Oh my God. It was bloody Valentine's Day—something that she had tried to block out since yesterday. The postman handed her the card and grinned amiably.

"Somebody paid extra to make sure you got this!" He passed her the signed delivery sheet and she looked at him blankly.

"Huh?"

The postman patiently pointed to a name half way down the sheet and waited for her to scrawl a signature. As she focussed on the writing, she realised to her surprise it was her own name rather than Megan's that she was signing for.

The card was intended for her, not Megan.

Rosie ripped open the thick velum envelope as the postman walked back down the path, whistling a tuneless rendition of some pop tune. She barely glanced at the card; she was more interested in who had signed it. But there was no name, just a folded piece of paper.

Rosie,

Don't let me go like this! We need to talk.

Please come to the airport!!

I fly at 13:10 -- Singapore Airlines

Marc xx

Ps. I love you

For a joyful moment, Rosie's heart leaped inside her chest and she beamed like a lighthouse. The old guy from next door was shuffling past with his newspaper and he stopped momentarily, a look of surprise on his grizzled features.

"Won the lottery, love?" he asked with a toothy grin.

"Not quite," Rosie replied. "But almost!"

He laughed and shook his head. "Nowt as sweet as young love," he told her before doddering away.

Rosie read the note several timed before she belatedly looked at her wrist watch. Oh my God. It was gone half past ten and the airport was a forty-five minute drive. At this rate, Marc would be at the boarding gate before she had even got dressed!

She dashed back inside the house like a whirling dervish, grabbing the first items of clothing she found. Within ten minutes, she was frantically scrabbling around the kitchen worktop for her car keys and pulling a brush through her tangled hair. When Megan appeared at the top of the stairs, Rosie yelled,

"I'm off to the airport!"

"Last minute holiday?" asked Megan through a yawn.

"No, I have to see Marc."

Megan looked slightly bemused. "But I thought—"

"I'll explain later." Rosie cut her off and flew out the front door in the direction of her car.

* * *

The airport terminal was heaving with stressed travellers. Rosie had abandoned her car in the short stay car park and sprinted across the acres of concrete towards the huge glass doors. Once inside she jogged past all of the check in desks, trying to find the right airline.

By the time she reached it, there was no sign of Mark anywhere in the vicinity and as she desperately scanned the faces, tears pricked her eyelids. Was she too late?

"Do you need some help, miss?" asked a kind voice.

Rosie turned around to see a lady in a blue uniform with a plastic name tag proclaiming her to be "Mildred".

"I'm supposed to be meeting my boyfriend and I can't find him!" Rosie cried.

"Have you tried paging him?" Mildred asked patiently.

Rosie shook her head. "No..."

"Then follow me."

She trotted after the ultra efficient Mildred and prayed that Marc was still the right side of passport control. If he had gone through, she was screwed.

"Would Marc Greene please come to the Visitor Information Point - Rosie Miller would like to see you."

Mildred's voice echoed loudly across the terminal, but apart from an eclectic mixture of bemused looking passengers milling around the hall, there was no sign of Marc. The minutes ticked by and despite another tannoy announcement from the helpful Mildred, Marc failed to appear.

Eventually Rosie stopped searching the crowds. She wanted to cry, but it seemed like too much effort really. What was the point? Marc had gone and she had blown it. She supposed she could try emailing him, but by the time he had spent a few weeks surrounded by hot Elle Macpherson look-alikes, he was hardly likely to give a toss about what she was up to, let alone reply to her messages.

Rosie thanked Mildred and shuffled back towards the exit doors, uncaring of the fact her face was streaked with tears. A quick glance at the clock told her she had exceeded her time in the short stay car park and was now liable for a penalty. Perfect end to a perfect morning, she thought.

"Would Rosie Miller please come to the Visitor Information Point -- Marc Greene would like to see you."

Rosie paused at the exit and wondered if she was now at the delusional stage of psychosis. Did she just hear her name?

"Would Rosie Miller please come to the..."

She spun around and ran like a woman possessed to the middle of the terminal where Marc was waiting, surrounded by bags.

"I'm so sorry..." she blubbed, tears cascading down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to be so stupid, I really love you and I'm going to miss you so much and I don't know what I'm going to do—"

"Rosie! For once in your life will you please listen and not go off on one!"

She shut up and sniffed. "Ok," she said in a very small voice.

"Rosie Miller, I love you very much and I was hoping that when you graduate in four months time you would consider coming over to Australia to be with me?"

Rosie stared at him in shock, vaguely aware that a large number of people in the vicinity of the Visitor Information Point, Mildred included, were hovering expectantly waiting for her reply.

"You really want me to come to Australia?"

"No, I'm just saying it...OF COURSE I want you to come! I love you, silly!"

"But I can't surf, I'm petrified of spiders and snakes, I burn in the sun, and I—"

Marc sighed in exasperation and kissed her. Mildred cheered and the rest of their audience followed suit.

"Final call for passenger Marc Greene—please come to passport control immediately!"

"Oh bollocks, I have to go," Marc said, reluctantly releasing a dishevelled Rosie. He tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. "I'll call you when I land and we can talk on Skype once I've checked into the hotel."

"I'm going to miss you so much," Rosie sobbed, her emotions tipping over the edge once again. With one more long, toe curling, lingering kiss, Marc was gone, swallowed up by the crowds.

"He loves me!" She smiled through her tears.

"Here, have this." Mildred passed the microphone to Rosie and showed her which button to press.

"Rosie Miller would like Marc Greene to know that she loves him very much and she can't wait to see him in four months time!

* * *

This story is an entry in the Valentine's Day contest, so (as always) your vote is appreciated!

Thanks for reading ~ Rach