I never expected that my Friday morning would turn into yet another romantic rollercoaster. Since Monday I hadn’t heard from Ben, so I thought it’d be best to just forget about him and move on. I was baffled by how much effort he had gone through to ask me out just to bail last minute; I suppose it was my own fault for having any expectations when I didn’t know Ben at all.
But now it’s Friday and I have almost completely forgotten about Ben, almost but not quite. I couldn’t help the fact that my mind liked to ponder on what had happened; it had been one of the most romantic moments of my life if not the most romantic. Aside from that, it happened to be one of the quietest times of the year in work, so I had a lot of unoccupied time to fill with my thoughts.
I had been wearing my new scarf all week, though I had learned my lesson about wearing scarves on the tube, so I only wore it when I was safely outside of the underground. It was a system that was working really well for me, not only did I want to avoid the possibility of strangulation, but I really did not want to lose this scarf.
I did the usual commute, avoiding the train doors even more enthusiastically now. I noticed that my manoeuvring onto the train grabbed the attention of other commuters and tourists wanting to feel the real ‘vibe’ of London, but I didn’t care; if they’d had their heads trapped in those doors they would understand.
After Monday I can’t seem to stop expecting something out of the ordinary to happen; it’s like I’m constantly waiting for something exciting, something that will take my breath away. I’m sure the feeling will pass, I just haven’t gotten out of the mindset were I think I’m in some kind of romance and I’ll be swept off my feet any minute. For now, I’ll keep waiting for it even though deep down I know it’s never going to happen, real life just isn’t like that.
I walked into the office and Rachel was sat at reception like every other day. Today, however, she had a huge grin on her face, which erupted into giggles when she noticed me.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, intrigued but also starting to feel self-conscious. I started to quickly think about what I had eaten for breakfast thinking that I must have some residue of it on my face. Damn I had jam on toast, I thought.
“You’ll see,” she said, gesturing with her eyebrows in the direction of my office.
Confused I turned from her and walked to my office, discretely wiping my face just in case there was in fact some jam there. I tried turning my key in the door but it was already unlocked. Inside, my office had been completely overtaken by bunches and bunches of pink lilies, for once I was completely lost for words.
On the bunch closest to the door there was a note…
If words were flowers I’d send you a bunch,
If apologies were food I’d take you for lunch.
If my thoughts of you were rays of the sun,
Clouds and darkness would both be bygone.
If I wrote you a cheesy poem just like this,
It would be in hope of having your forgiveness.
Ben
My heart melted and twisted, melted and twisted torn between how amazingly romantic this moment was and how completely insane I had been. All of a sudden my thoughts diverted, who is going to clear all of this up?
It was typical of me really, to ruin quite a perfect moment with my obsessive need for a clutter free environment, especially when I'm working. My office was absolutely full to the brim of flowers so much so that I couldn't actually step foot in there. My mind was now completely consumed with thoughts like, how am I going to get any work done?
"I am not cleaning this up," I accidentally said aloud to myself unaware that anybody was around.
"I'm sorry," a voice behind me said, "I have thought of that though, I never expected you to clear it up." I turned to see Ben stood behind me with a cheeky grin on his face. "A courier is collecting them in…" he looked at his watch, "exactly five minutes. Where they go is up to you, your place, your mothers or grandmothers, local nursing home? You just let the courier know."
"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful," my cheeks were flushed now, embarrassed by my remark and unfortunate timing. "These are incredible, thank you." He waited for me to say something more, but I was unsure of my words. “This is really romantic, but - “
“But? Of course, I get it. I didn’t show and I gave you the impression that I would and you don’t want someone like that in your life right?” His voice raised and his fists curled up into balls as he punched the concrete wall in frustration.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” I rushed to his aid and took his hand in mine, it had already turned red from the force of his punch; it was a good job he’d hit the concrete wall and not the glass office doors.
“I’m so sorry,” he started to shake his head, angry with himself for what he’d done. “I’m having a bad day - no, that’s irrelevant I shouldn’t even mentioned it, what I just did was uncalled for, there’s no excuse.”
“Look, Ben, you were right I was going to say some of that stuff but - and this is the most important but - I was also going to say that it’s okay, we never set our plans in stone, so honestly it’s fine. How about we just start over? I’m free tonight…”
“Yeah?” He said, “Well, I know this really great restaurant I’d love to take you to, if you’d…”
“Yes, I would like that.”
So that night, we had our first date. We talked and we laughed; it felt like I’d known him for years. We had so much in common, taste in music, the food we like, and movies stuff like that. He’d stroke my hair from my face making it tingle at his touch, and he’d scoop it behind my ear and he’d give me this look like he was thinking about kissing me but in his head he was thinking not just yet when all I was thinking was just do it already, kiss me.
We went out for a meal in a dimly lit restaurant with candles lighting the room. We drank wine and we had our napkins placed on our laps by the waiter, it was the kind of restaurant I was used to but for some reason I was expecting something else. I had never been there before; it was really nice and romantic, full of couples and completely exempt from children.
“So, do you know what you’re having yet?” He asked.
“No.”
“Really? You’ve been staring at that menu for about ten minutes,” he laughed, “if you want to go somewhere else I don’t mind.”
“No, honestly, here is perfect everything sounds so delicious. I suppose you know what you’re having then?” I said.
“I think I’m going to have the Salmon to start followed by the steak.” I laughed as he looked up from the menu, “is something funny?”
“I lied,” I told him, “I absolutely know what I’m having I just wasn’t sure whether we were doing the whole starter and main thing or just having mains…”
“Ah, sneaky.”
With impeccable timing, the waiter came to our table. He held a small white notepad in his right hand and a pen in his left. I noticed how crisp his clothes were and so neatly tucked away.
“Are you ready for me to take your order?” he asked
“I suppose we are,” Ben said as he threw me that cheeky grin of his once more, “Ladies first.”
“I’d like the Paté to start and then I’d like the Salmon, but could you bring that as a main please?”
After Ben made his order and the waiter took away our menus Ben looked over at me with intrigue in his eyes.
“Two starters?” he said.
“I don’t have a very big appetite,” I told him, “I never have. My Dad always used to call me ‘Pigeon’ belly; I just get full so easily. It used to irritate my Mum so much, every mealtime it was always the same thing with her ‘why do I even bother?’ I’d tell her to give me smaller portions that way I wouldn’t leave so much, but she’d never listen to me, I think she actually enjoyed having a reason to moan at me. I definitely don’t miss that, I like being in control of what am eating and not have anyone watching my portion sizes. I’m rambling on aren’t I?
“It’s okay, you’re kind of cute when you ramble. I hope you don’t think that I was judging you or anything; it’s just different that’s all. I like different.”
Afterward we walked around Covent Garden for a while. It was Friday night so it was sort of busy, I could hear people laughing, and chatting away, I could see the candles lighting the verandas of the bars, couples walking hand in hand. We talked playfully, teased each other, and flirted. I didn’t want the night to end.
When we got back to my flat, he brushed my hair from my face one last time. It didn’t tingle at his touch this time, instead butterflies erupted in my stomach, this is it, I thought, he’s going to kiss me.
I’d imagined that kissing him would make the world around us disappear. I thought that when our lips finally met, it would be as though they were two jigsaw pieces fitting perfectly together. I hoped that kissing him would be unlike any other kiss I’d had before. In a way, I suppose I got what I hoped for. The kiss was different, it certainly wasn’t like any kiss I’d had before but not for the reasons I’d imagined.
His hand grasped the back of my head, pulled me into the kiss, and held me there as he planted his fierce lips on mine. It was more forceful than kisses ever ought to be out on the street, his passion was strong and I felt it - I just wasn’t sure that I liked it.
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