Page 46 of Fundamentals in Flirting

“Noted.”

“Right, while you might not be having a date tonight, Emily is taking me out for tapas in Cheltenham, so I should be going and making myself beautiful for her. See you tomorrow.”

“Have a lovely time,” I called out to her retreating back, while I grabbed my keys and did a quick change into shorts and a T-shirt, ready for my not-date with Teddy and Agnes.

* * *

Outside, the air was smothering. It felt like it weighed something, wrapping searing fingers into my clothes and hair, bearing down on my skin like a thick duvet with not a breath of wind to ease the discomfort. In the distance, huge, dark clouds roiled across the sky as I pushed open the rickety gates of The Old Rectory and made my way up the garden path.

The front door was ajar.

“Hello?”

Agnes’s tinkling laughter filtered through from the back of the house, and I followed the sound, my own face breaking into a grin at the deep rumble of Teddy’s returning chuckle. The kitchen was still a bit of a mess, the wallpapering bench in use but with the addition of a huge scrubbed pine table, which was already laid for dinner. There was crusty bread and a rainbow-coloured salad along with a glorious Victoria sponge as the centrepiece.

Teddy had his back to me, and I was given a moment to admire his broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, the navy chino shorts that hugged his backside, feet in flip-flops on the flagstone floors. Even from this angle he made my heart lurch.

I could feel my resistance crumbling and I almost backed out of the room and fled. But then Agnes saw me and her softening expression as our gaze met caused Teddy to turn around. A smile lit up his face.

“There you are,” he said softly. He walked over and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek, his fingers faintly caressing the back of my hand. “I hope you’re hungry?”

I nodded. And from that one brief touch, I was also about to pass out, it seemed.

The meal was delicious and conversation flowed easily between us. Teddy and I gently teased each other, quickly falling into the flirty banter that seemed to come so naturally, while Agnes told a whole raft of funny and poignant stories, mostly about her time as a journalist on Fleet Street in the 1980s. Her life had been a whirlwind of colour and controversy and she had lived it to the full. She’d retired to the Cotswolds twenty years ago, bought the cottage, and got some goats to keep her company, enjoying a life of peace and solitude. But her words were tinged with regret, like there was something or someone missing, and it seemed to me that there was a chink of hollow emptiness in her smile.

Teddy told Agnes about our time at school together, and she delighted in his tales of mischief on the rugby team and his awe at my dedication to my studies. His self-deprecation was funny and heart-warming as he simultaneously shone a light on my own achievements. As the evening drew in, darkness began to shadow the garden outside and a faint rumble of thunder rattled the windows.

“Perhaps I should walk you home, Agnes. It sounds like it might rain soon,” Teddy said.

“Yes, you’re right.” Agnes sighed. “It’s been years since I’ve had such a lovely evening. Thank you both.” She stood and Teddy helped her into her jacket, which had a large hand-knitted poppy drooping from the lapel. “I’m so happy you’ve moved in here. It’s rare to see two people who are so obviously made for each other. That’s a treasure that you should hold on to with both hands.”

I couldn’t look at Teddy. I didn’t want to see the derision that would be on his face at such sentimentality when we both knew he was actually only after one thing with me. One thing that would probably be bloody amazing, but would be over and done with and not destined to last a lifetime.

“I’ll just be a minute while I make sure that Agnes gets home safely, ok?”

“Ok.” I took a sip of water. “Lovely to see you, Agnes.”

And I actually meant it. This was definite growth for me – being civil, interested, and polite to another human being. Maybe Betsy was right and I was close to becoming a fully functioning member of society after all.

“You too, dear.”

When they left, their forms were highlighted, ghost-like, by the lightning that forked in the distance, a rumble of thunder following closely after. I scooped up the dinner things, washing them in the makeshift sink under the window, while the first huge splats of rain battered the pane. Another bright flash of lightning lit up the garden, so close that the crash of thunder was almost instantaneous. It illuminated a human shape creeping past the window and my usual rationality fled. My brain dreamt up all sorts of heinous serial killers or kidnappers intent on such abhorrent bodily harm that I screamed, dropping the wooden salad bowl that I was drying, and it clattered loudly on the stone floor.

“Hannah! Christ! It’s just me,” Teddy said, stepping in through the French doors and closing them against the tempest that was starting to rage outside. While I clutched my heaving chest like an over-the-top pantomime dame, he shook the rain from his hair and smirked. “And you say I’m the dramatic one.”

The cool air and earthy, petrichor smell had accompanied him inside as the crashing thunder got louder and the windowpanes rattled in protest. More lightning streaked in forks across the inky sky, making the house lights dim momentarily.

“I should go.”

“Why don’t you wait out the storm here. Have another glass of wine. It would be silly to get soaked running home in this.” Teddy’s tone was low and persuasive.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Leaning back against the table, I avoided his gaze, my heart thumping in my chest at being alone with him. Staying would definitely be a bad idea.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face.

“About what I said last week, Hannah?—”

“It’s ok,” I cut him off, not wanting to have this conversation. I was worried I might break down and launch myself at him in a desperate bid for affection, giving in to the rampant desire that he seemed to provoke in me. It would have to be kept purely physical, just a fling, of course, in it for a good time and nothing more.

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