Page 40 of Storm in a Teacup
She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you being a chicken?”
“No,” I emphasize. Honestly, I noticed it’s a little dark in the restaurant, but I figure if I say that aloud, she may get annoyed with me for thinking she can’t do it by herself. Which, fair. I know she can. Maybe I am being a chicken. I change the subject when I look at the plaster affixed under her right brow. I reach out, causing her to flinch back.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her full body angled away from me as her eyes find my hand, still hovering near her face.
I chuckle. “Looking at your injury.” I reach for her face again and gently press my thumb above her brow, brushing downward toward the bandage. She settles back into me, angling her head up so I can see as I lean forward, just a breath away now. “How’s it doing?”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “Mostly healed. It's just a big, ugly, red, crusty line now. The band-aid is less noticeable, so that’s why I still have it on.”
“Think it’ll scar?”
“No.”
“Damn. That would be cute.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls away from my hand. “Should we go in or are you still being a chicken?”
“You’re a chicken,” I mumble, reaching for her hand as I open the door with my other, letting her go in first, but then leading the way to the table. They don’t see us right away, so I clear my throat. “David,” I say, immediately wishing it came out better than the slight squeak that exited my mouth.
He turns around quickly. “Hey, man.” He gets up and gives me a hug, which I accept with one arm, my hand still holding tightly to Linny’s. He releases me and gives Linny a quick hello as we round the table to sit down.
I introduce Linny and Callum since this is their first time meeting. Callum’s curly hair is longer than when I last saw him—long enough to pull into a bun atop his head.
Linny says, “Hi. Nice to meet you,” but does so while taking a very long time to remove her coat and hang it over the back of her chair. Since I know better, I know she is doing this as a way to avoid shaking Callum’s hand, which he has not had the chance to extend while she is preoccupied. Or, rather, to avoid missing an extended hand with the intention to shake.
Once her coat is off, I place a hand on her back, more of a reassurance for me than for her. She pats my leg, then says to David and Callum, “Ben said you all met at uni?”
Callum corrects, “Ben and I actually met in sixth form. I transferred to his school after GCSEs.”
I hum in confirmation, having a hard time meeting Callum’s eye. He’s my friend as well, and I feel incredibly guilty for my attempt at ruining what he and David have. It wasn’t like I did it with mal intent—it was a poor judgment call. I was being selfish, thinking only of myself andmyfeelings.
David smiles, glancing at Callum. “Ben and I met first term of uni when I was freshly moved back here from the States. We had one class together, and during the first week, Ben sat next to me, started talking my ear off, then asked me to get lunch. The rest was history.”
I give a stiff nod, repeating, “The rest was history.”
The night continues, and I am embarrassed to admit that I let Linny lead most of the conversation, keeping to myself. I mean, she’s doing amazingly by asking knowledgeable questions about David’s Ph.D. and Callum’s work. I have no idea what a microcontroller is, but she seems to.Fuck, she’s beautifulandsmart. I’m so happy to have her bymy side tonight.
I’m not moping, I’m not, but I don’t know what to say. We get our food and continue the light conversation throughout, but I cannot help but note how surface-level it all is. I hate it. I hate that I did this to us.
After I finish my meal, I excuse myself to the toilet. I use the facilities, wash my hands, then run into David as I’m leaving. I step back, retreating into the WC with him following me. God, like I’m running away.
“You okay?” he asks, eyeing me worriedly.
“Fine,” I grit out.
“Ben. You’ve been quiet all evening. You haven’t been you.”
I swallow. “I haven’t felt like me,” I admit. “Not for a while.”
David looks around, like he’s making sure we’re alone in here. “Because of me?”
“No,” I say quickly, then sigh. “No, not only you. I mean, not really. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Ben, let’s talk about this.”
“In the toilet?”
“Yes, in the toilet,” he says. “Have you talked to anyone about this? I mean, what’s going on with you?”
