Page 83 of Storm in a Teacup
Ben confirms beside me, “I am a sucker for a pink wedding.”
“See, Ben agrees too.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll keep it.”
It’s not quite dark outside, but getting there. Headlights from cars are shining in my eyes, making it more difficult to see. My eyes are moving quickly, scanning the ground, flitting side to side, looking forward, and repeat. If I were alone, I could manage, but Ben and his long legs are setting a pace that is quicker than I would be walking on my own. I grab Ben by the arm for extra ease of mind. He hardly reacts, just briefly pats the hand attached to his arm. As I talk to Mel, I am distracted, which is proven when Ben veers me away from the smallest dog I have ever seen in my entire life. Mel and I hang up soon after as Ben and I near my flat.
“Thank you for walking me back,” I say, keeping a hold of his arm as we tread alongside each other. “Listen, I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“I’m sorry I pushed.”
I grimace, secretly hoping that he continues to push me even when I’m resistant. I need it.
I ask, “Did you have an okay day?”
“Yeah, it was fine. You?”
“Fine.” I lift my mat in indication. “Yoga for the first time in a while. Needed some Zen.”
“That’s good. Erm…”
God, this is awkward. It’s all my fault.
Ben nudges me with his elbow. “Am I allowed to say that your arse looks perfect in those leggings?”
I bite the corner of my lips to keep my smile at bay. “No.”
“Really? I can’t tell you that I am regretting not taking enough advantage of that arse the one and only time I was allowed to see you naked?”
My cheeks heat. “Nope.”
He sighs. “Can I at least tell you, you look pretty?”
“No.”
He sighs again. “Fine. So, I can’t tell you that you look like a pure fantasy? All the damn time, Lin. You are sunlight in this dreary city. You are a breath of fresh air on an endless rubbish day. You are a perfectly browned crumpet just out of the oven. Is that crossing a line?”
I drop his arm and stop walking so I can stare at him, brow furrowed.
“Is that crossing a line?” he repeats, eyeing me down.
I rub my forehead as I recognize what he’s doing. “Are you complimenting me because you’re angry with me?”
He shrugs, looking defiant, so I take that as a yes.
“I said I was sorry.”
“So did I.”
“You express your anger in a very confusing way.”
He shrugs again.
“It is crossing aline,” I say firmly.
He scoffs. “Well, then the goddamn line needs to be pushed back because if that line says I can’tcareabout you, I’m done.”
“You’re done?” I repeat, stunned.
