Page 13 of Storm in a Teacup
She grins back at me, fingers absently twisting a long strand of golden hair. “Right. And you’re Linny?”
“I am.”
“Ben said you guys know each other?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sort of. We met once, like six months ago.” Wanting the subject off of myself, I direct it toward Isla, still singing on the makeshift stage. “She’s amazing.”
Rachel grins even wider as she refocuses on her girlfriend. “Yeah, she is.”
The front door opens and a tall Black man in a mustard yellow puffer enters, unzipping the coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.
Rachel gestures him over as soon as he catches her eye, calling,
“David!”
He scans the café before he approaches, a look of disappointment, perhaps, etched on his face.
“No Callum?” Rachel inquires.
“No. We figured it wouldn’t be…He’s busy.”
“Oh, okay. Well,”—she gestures to me—“this is Linny. She owns the antique shop next door.”
I lift my wine in acknowledgment. “My great aunt owns it, but I do run it.”
His eyebrows perk up. “Ah, another one of us.”
“Hm?”
“American accented,” he clarifies.
I laugh. “Right. My dad’s actually English, but my parents are divorced, so I grew up in both upstate New York with my mom and London with my dad.”
David hums. “I get that. My mom is American and my dad is Nigerian. I was born here, but grew up mostly in Massachusetts. Came back here for uni and then stayed.”
“And never left school,” Rachel adds into her glass.
“You’re one to talk,” David teases. “I doubt you’ll stop at one Ph.D.”
“I don’t need more than one! I’m not a Marvel superhero.” She explains, “David and I are both Ph.D. candidates at Heriot-Watt. Me for Marine Biodiversity and him for computer crap.”
“ComputerEngineering,” he lightly corrects.
“Oh, wow,” I say sincerely. “That’s impressive.”
They both shrug off the compliment like two people who are very used to getting it. I smile politely, glancing around to see if there is anyone else I know in this room.
David starts looking around as well. “Have you seen Ben?” he asks, making my ears perk up. I too am wondering where he is. I’d like to say hello and thank him for the invite.
Rachel purses her lips as she cranes her head in an attempt to see around the room. “He was here earlier.”
David sighs. “I’m sure he saw me coming and ran away as fast as he could. Has he said anything to you?”
Rachel clicks her tongue, making a face that implies this question has been asked and answered before. “Still no. I can’t believe youhaven’t spoken to him. It’s been six months, my guy.”
“I’vetried, Rach. Many times. Hewon’ttalk to me. Every call ignored. Every text unanswered. Every DM unread.” Desperately, he adds, “I just want to speak to him. I just want toseehim.”
I take that as my cue to slip away, both seeming to have forgotten my presence as they discuss what seems like a touchy subject. I move to a corner of the room, a bit out of the way, and stand there sipping my wine and watching Isla sing. Isla’s gaze is locked on Rachel, even when Rachel is not looking her way.
