Page 74 of Storm in a Teacup
I hold out my hands, letting him pull them off for me one after the other. He uses his free hand to stroke a strand of my hair behind my ear, still wet from the shower. Leaving that hand on my cheek, he bends forward to press a kiss to my forehead. I lean into it, savoring the feeling of his lips on my skin.
Have we gone so far past the line that we won’t ever be able to return?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ben
I’m sitting at a table in McCarthy’s with David, Callum, and Rachel, and want to know something funny? I don’t bother to think about how grateful I am that Rachel is here as a buffer. I mean, I do think it, and I am grateful she’s here, but this feeling comes from me reminding myself to feel this way.
I’m sipping a pint as they talk about smart people things. The words “data processor,” “cobra,” and “microplastics” are thrown around, so I am very lost, but attempting to engage with an interested look here and a shocked gasp there.
I am alerted to Linny’s approaching presence only by the, “Fuck, sorry,” I hear after the sound of a scooting chair.
I glance behind me to watch her approach and notice that she apologized to an empty chair. I think she notices that as well because her face burns red. But instead of shrinking, she puts her chin up and keeps walking. However, her steps slow down, and her eyes scan and scan everything around her. I could get up and meet her halfway, but I know she likes doing this by herself.
When she makes it to the table, she drops into the chair beside me and says, “I made it before her set started?”
“Aye,” I confirm, leaning in to kiss her on the temple, placing my hand on her lower back as I do so, before I bother to wonder if I should be doing either of those actions.
Callum offers, “She’s still chatting with the bartender.” He indicates his chin toward my sister, who is leaned against the bar with her guitar strapped to her back.
Rachel follows our eyeline and says, “She loves a good chat.” She taps her phone to light it up and check the time. “Isles!”
Isla spins around to see Rachel tapping the invisible watch on her wrist. She grins, turns to say one last thing to the bartender, then weaves through the pub to first, come by our table and kiss Rachel on the mouth, then to the stool set up at the back of the bar with a spotlight shining on it.
“Hello, hello,” she says lowly into the microphone. “Sorry I’m running a bit behind this evening. I can’t even use the old ‘I was flirting’ excuse because the love of my life is sitting at a table in this pub”—she looks our way and Rachel squirms a bit under the attention, but smiles anyway, eyes only on Isla—“and I would never dream of flirting with anyone but her. So, in honor of her existence, I would like to start the set with her song.”
Isla starts strumming a very familiar chord, following it with lyrics that are a bit less familiar. Rachel keeps her eyes on her, despite how her face burns red.
David leans across the table to say, “She’s been starting every set with this song since she and Rach officially started dating.”
Linny puts a hand over her heart. “That’s cute. She wrote this? It’s good.”
I nod, agreeing. “She’s always been good at the music bit but convinced herself that she was terrible at the word bit.” I tickle Rachel gently on the arm. “Guess she just needed a muse.”
Rachel swats me off and shushes us, but smiles even wider.
I find myself unable to be shushed, but I am agreeable to being quieter. I lean over to whisper in Linny’s ear, “Are you feeling better today?”
“Yeah, yesterday really helped. Thank you.”
I offer an over-emphasized wink. “Any time.”
Her eyes narrow at me. She whispers, “You better mean the smashing shit thing because we agreed the other thing was a one-time occurrence.”
There’s a spasm in my chest at the knowledge that what happened yesterday will never happen again—likely because of just howgoodit was. Because it was. I mean, wet, naked Linny coming under my hand and my mouth. Obviously, that was a dream scenario.
But she’s right. It was a one-time thing because we both have our reasons for not wanting to be together. And they are very good reasons. I know that. But…my reason is starting to feel forced—like I’m making it a bigger roadblock than it is.
David’s laugh brings my attention to him. Callum has his hand on his back as he whispers something in David’s ear with a smile. David lightly bites his lip, angling toward Callum to mutter something back.
My heart twitches at the sight. Dammit.Still.
“Of course I meant the smashing shit,” I finally say. I swing my arm around her shoulders, letting her lean into me, thankful that even after yesterday, things are not weird. They are just as they always have been. Comfortable. Easy. The way a good fake relationship always is.
…
“Walk you home?” I ask as we leave the bar, parting ways from the rest of our group.
