Page 35 of Storm in a Teacup
Dad lifts his chin. “You’ve got a good nose.”
“I’ve got an amazing nose. It’s good at picking up scent, too.”
I snort at the joke and examine his nose. It is a nice nose.
Dad’s eyes glimmer as he says, “It tastes even better than it smells. Serve yourselves.”
As Ben places some salmon and roasted potatoes on both our plates, I ask him, “How’d the match go?”
“Pretty good,” he answers. “Ended in a tie, but that’s alright. I got to show off some of my moves.” He adds quieter, “Which pissed Atti off.”
“Good,” my dad comments loudly, shoving his fork into his mouth.
I ignore my dad and ask, “Moves?”
He shrugs, taking a bite. Once he swallows, he says, “I’ve been playing all my life. Some would say I’m quite good.” He points to his plate. “Like this. This is amazing, Harold.”
I did not know this. It’s not a surprising fact—I can tell he’s athletic just by looking at him. And he mentioned something about mountain biking and an enjoyment of nature.
“Where was the match again? A field in Stratford?”
Ben lets out a sharp laugh. “Yeah. At London Stadium.”
“London Stadium?” I question. “Wait, you mean where West Ham plays?TheWest Ham?”
“The very one.”
“How did you guys…?” I trail off when the realization hits me.Oh. “Never mind. I know the answer to that. Atti.”
Ben nods, taking another bite. “Yeah.”
“Prick,” Dad mutters into his wine, which makes me burst out laughing. My dad is the best.
We finish up dinner, then Dad insists on pouring us all anotherglass of wine. I try to refuse, but quickly give in. By the time we finish the second glass, it’s getting late.
“Sorry this was such a quick visit, same as the last,” I say to my dad as I slip on my coat. “I’ll come down for an actual visit soon. I promise.”
He gives me a tight hug once my coat is on. “I’ll hold you to that. But I’ll see you for sure at the wedding, love.” He extends his hand for Ben to shake. “Good to meet you, son. Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon.”
“Yes, hopefully,” Ben replies. “Thank you again, Harold. The meal was wonderful.”
“You can call me Harry. You’ve earned it.” My dad offers me a head tilt as Ben’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I like him. He’s good at sucking up.”
“Jesus, Dad. We’re leaving.” I grab Ben by the arm and yank him with me out the door. “Love you!” I call behind me.
“Love you too,” Dad says. “Get home safe, please.”
“I always try,” I respond.
Ben and I take off down the street, heading toward the tube station. I shove my hands in my pockets as we walk.
“You don’t need a hand out here?” Ben asks.
I shake my head, glancing upward. “Nah. Street lights. My eyes do better in the dark outside than they do inside. I’m not sure why. Light fills the space in a different way? Who knows.”
“Okay,” he says. “Good to know.” As we stop at a street crossing, waiting for cars to pass, he clears his throat. “So, what would you think about extending this little fake dating thing we have going on?”
Oh no. I blow out a puff of air. “I don’t think so, Ben. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you a lot. But that’s why I can’t. I really am not interested in being in a relationship.”
