Page 10 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Linny

This is a really bad idea. A foolish one. But here we are. On a train to London. Me and Ben Pyeon. A man I hardly know. I know him well enough to have coffee or a drink with him, sure. But to go to London and share a hotel room with him? No. Not at all.

Too late. We’re already in England. We’ll be in London soon enough.

I lean back in my seat with a sigh, staring out the window at the long stretch of grassy land. “If we’re going to pretend to date, we should go over the basics.”

He mimics my lean. “Well, I already know you like it when I pay particular attention to your left nipple.”

I whip my head toward him. “ Not that. I meant my parents’ names. My cat’s name. My favorite color. Those kinds of things.”

“You didn’t say I was wrong,” he sings under his breath.

“Harold and Emily. Oscar Wilde is my cat. And I like purple.”

“What kind of purple?”

“All purple.”

“So, you go horny for plum in the same way you do lavender?”

“That is such an odd way to put it. But yes. ”

“Got it. Well, not that I think anyone will be quizzing us on this, but my parents are named William and Jane. Mum is white, Da is Korean. If I had a cat, I would name them Pate à Choux—Choux for short, Choux Pastry when they’re especially cute.

And I like orange. But specifically a soft sunset orange. ”

I bite the corner of my mouth. “How Peeta Mellark of you.”

“Ta. But I don’t think I will ever reach his level of cake-decorating skill.”

“One always needs something to strive for.” I move on to my next question. “Did you go to uni?”

“Aye.”

“What for?”

“Sport and Exercise Science.”

I furrow my brow. “Using that degree for all it’s worth.”

“I also did an eighteen-week course in culinary arts, post-grad.” He shifts in his seat. “What about you?”

“That makes more sense.” I point to myself. “Art History.”

His lips purse. “What age were you diagnosed with RP?”

“Nineteen or twenty. I remember how it happened—my regular eye doctor noticed, sent me to an ophthalmologist, I got diagnosed. After, I sat in my car with my mom and shed a few tears, then we got froyo—but I’ve also sort of blocked it from my memory and have never really taken the time to fully process it. ”

“Healthy.”

“The healthiest. My therapist tells me that all the time. Linny, wow, you are my healthiest patient. So good at processing your emotions and trauma.”

He laughs. “Hey, me as well! Next question, a doozy. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. You?”

“Thirty. ”

“My god, you’re old. No wonder you’ve got that sexy salt and pepper thing going on.”

We keep going through the basics. He has one sister, Isla. I have two sisters, Chelsea and Sarah, both older and both of whom still reside in the U.S. Chelsea is married with two kids, and Sarah is a proud dog mom. I also have Mel, of course, who is less a cousin and more like another older sister.

“Oh,” I add as we near London. “I like crystals. I’m not like a diehard believer of every potential benefit, but I enjoy having them around my flat or on my person.” I show him the amethyst ring I wear on my right ring finger as evidence. “For stress relief.”

“Really?” he asks, eyeing the ring.

“Yeah,” I respond tentatively, prepared to go on the defense.

“Interesting. I don’t know anything about crystals, but I can do a bit of research.”

Huh. “You don’t have to. Just because I like them doesn’t mean you would too.”

“A good boyfriend would at least take a general interest in something his girlfriend likes, even if just to converse about it.”

Double huh. “Oh. Yeah, well. Thanks.” I twist the ring. “Anything I should look up about you?”

“Erm, general know-how of mountain biking? I’m less into it than I used to be, but I do enjoy it. And nature in general. I spent a gap year before uni traveling around the States to visit different national parks. Just so you don’t look completely lost if it gets brought up.”

“Got it. Mountain biking and big parks. Easy enough.”

By the time we pull into King’s Cross Station, we know enough about one another to get through the weekend.

Ben pulls my suitcase down from above head for me, then fetches his own.

He’s the perfect height. For grabbing things, I mean.

I’m not that short, but short enough to have to stand on my tiptoes for a lot of things.

It’s nice to have someone who can reach up and get things for me, no tiptoes needed.

I shake myself out of that ridiculous thought. I don’t need anyone to grab things for me. That’s what stepstools are for.

“Come on,” I say, pushing my suitcase down the aisle of the train and out the doors. “We need to catch the Victoria line so we can get to Soho.”

…

There is only one bed in our hotel room. This circumstance should not be surprising, but here we are. Mel booked the room, but I figured (hoped) it would be a two twin-bed situation. But, no. One bed.

Mel was surprised when I asked if I could bring Ben.

“Well, now that we’re allowed to bring partners,” I explained.

But that, of course, did not explain why I had never mentioned him to her.

“It’s new,” I said, which is technically true.

“I mean, we met back in September, but just started seeing each other.” Also true.

We did meet in September, and we did just start seeing each other, only as in literally seeing and not as much in the dating sense.

“I swear I have mentioned him to you before.” Lie.

“You’ve been so busy with wedding planning, you probably forgot.

” A little bit of gaslighting never hurt anyone, right? Ugh .

“Right,” she had said slowly. “You know, maybe I do remember you mentioning him, now that you say that. No matter. I’m so excited to meet him!”

And now, here we are, standing awkwardly in our shared hotel room staring at the one and only bed in silence.

Ben breaks that silence with, “Looks like we’re going to be doing some snuggling tonight.”

“We will not be snuggling ,” I shoot back, amused by the suggestion.

“Sharing a bed is a great way to get to know someone,” he teases gently. “I’ve gotten to know several almost-strangers such as yourself through the act of sharing a bed.”

“I’m willing to bet it wasn’t the sharing of the bed but rather what you were doing in the bed that gave you a nice introduction to those strangers.”

He scoffs. “Excuse me. I was talking about the morning cuppa. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

I roll my eyes. “Sorry. I don’t ever spend the night with my strangers I’m ‘getting to know.’” I squat down to open my suitcase. “I’m going to change. And then we’re supposed to meet them at the first bar.”

The plan for tonight is to hit a couple bars, then end at a club (it’s been years since I’ve been to a club, so I’m a mixture of excited for dancing and dreading the crowds).

Then tomorrow, the ladies are doing a mini spa day, and the men are playing soccer or something.

I told Ben he is invited to the stag activity, but he is under no obligation to go.

In the bathroom, I change into a dark green dress with a short skirt that I’ll pair with tall boots. My legs are going to be freezing, but that is the expectation on nights out such as these.

I exit the bathroom, sensing Ben’s eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything. He changed into a light blue button-down, collar open at the top and sleeves rolled up, but is wearing the same pants he wore on the train. Men.

I sit down on the bed to zip up my boots. Finally, when I stand, I witness Ben give me a dramatic once-over, head literally moving down and back up with his eyes.

“Yowza” is the word that comes out of his mouth. I have never heard that word in a Scottish accent before .

I push him away. “Shut up.”

He groans, “Those boots, buttercup. What are you trying to do to me?”

I decline to answer that question as I grab my purse and exit our hotel room. “Come on, Ben.”

He laughs as he exits behind me. “You look amazing, Linny.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not so bad yourself.”

“I clean up good.” He tries and fails to fix a rogue lock of hair falling over his forehead before he hits the button for the elevator. “You have a nasty bruise on your leg.” He’s referring to the quarter-sized yellow and purple discoloration on my lower left thigh.

“Thank you for noticing. I have a tendency to bump into shit.”

We make our way back down to the lobby, then take a right once we exit the hotel.

“Oh,” I say on our walk. “Touching rules. Hand-holding is somewhat necessary. I’m okay if you touch me anywhere that’s appropriate to touch in public.

This isn’t a romcom, so there will not be a moment where we are forced to kiss on the mouth to prove our relationship is real, but a kiss on the cheek is fine. ”

“Works for me,” Ben agrees.

By the end of the ten-minute walk, I am regretting my choice of footwear. I wasn’t planning on drinking much tonight, but I’ll have to at least drink enough to numb the pain in my feet.

Ben grasps my hand as we arrive at the pub, already doing his part.

I appreciate it as this pub is seemingly trying to cut costs on their electricity bill, but it’s well enough lit that I spot Mel and Julien sitting at a large table consisting of three tables pushed together in the back.

They’re joined by most of the wedding party and a couple of their partners.

My ex is not yet present. Naturally. He was always late .

Mel waves widely, as though I may not see her. I smile back, tugging Ben along behind me.

“Hi. Happy hen do,” I say, giving Mel a tight hug. Mel is wearing a white mini-dress, her blonde hair wavy. Julien wears a maroon shirt that nearly matches the smudge of Mel’s maroon lipstick on his neck.

“Happy hen do to you too.” She eyes Ben. “This is the boyfriend?”

“This is Ben,” I say, avoiding the term boyfriend .