Page 33 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Linny

“You can’t fool me into second breakfast, my dude,” I mumble. We do this every morning.

My eyes close as I take a sip of coffee, knowing the coffee from Ben’s café will always be better than whatever I can brew myself. I set the mug on the table with a sigh.

A knock on my door makes my eyes shoot open and my arm swing out, sending coffee splashing from my mug.

I quietly approach the door so I can peek out through the peephole, which is slightly more difficult while wearing my frames. Ben is on the other side, wearing something bright and yellow. My shoulders un-tense as I unlock my door and pull it open, letting it drag across the doormat.

I scan him up and down. “What the hell are you wearing?”

It’s not just bright and yellow. It’s tight. My gaze trails down to a specific bulging area between his legs that I think about more often than I should—which is to say, at all.

He chuckles. “You like it, don’t you?”

My focus shoots back up, my cheeks flaming. “You didn’t answer my question. Also, second question, what the hell are you doing here?”

“You said the other day that there is no way anyone could look good in cycling clothes. I’m proving you wrong.” He’s wearing a long-sleeve yellow and black zip-up jacket that is windbreaker material and fitted black shorts with a neon yellow stripe down the side, reaching just above his knee.

I look him over again. “That color is horrendous.”

“Yeah, but check out my arse.” He spins around to give me a nice shot.

“Very…sculpted,” I observe, eyes lingering. I shake myself out of it. “It is so early, Ben.” I scan him again. “You said you don’t wear that when you go mountain biking.”

“Naw, I don’t. Still fitted outfits, but lacking the spandex. I bought this when I thought I was gonna try out road cycling. Not as fun, and you’re always in the way of cars.”

“I guess that’s why it’s so goddamn bright.” I sit back down at my table, gesturing him inside. He closes the door behind himself, but does not join me at the table. “Have you been mountain biking recently?”

“Too wet.”

“Didn’t think you’d mind the wet.”

His eyes glimmer. “You want to see me wet again, sugar?”

“I feel like that’s my line.” I clear my throat, cheeks still warm. “It’s so early,” I say again. I have no defense against his joke flirting, and no defense against my honest enjoyment of it.

“Can I say hello to my nephew? ”

“Your nephew?”

Ben’s eyes light up as he spots Oscar behind me. “Hi, handsome boy!” He steps past my chair, scooping my cat up into his arms like a baby. Oscar Wilde nuzzles in. “Yes, you love your uncle Ben, don’t you, you genius writer you.”

“Don’t call yourself ‘Uncle Ben.’ It makes it sound like you’re going to try to stop a robbery and end up on the wrong side of a weapon.”

“Are you Spider-Man in this scenario?”

“Obviously Oscar Wilde is Spider-Man in this scenario.”

“He’d be a great superhero. What else am I supposed to call myself? My name is Ben. Uncle Bennett is too formal.”

“You don’t have to be his uncle anything.”

“I can’t just be ‘Ben.’”

“He’s a cat. He doesn’t need to call you anything.”

“Well, he has a mother. Does he need a daddy?”

“If you start calling yourself ‘daddy,’ you will get kicked out of my apartment.”

He grins wickedly. “I knew you wouldn’t like that. Uncle Ben it is.” Oscar is rolling around in Ben’s arms, rubbing his little head against Ben’s jaw, then switching sides to rub against the other cheek.

My smile is uncontrollable. I gesture to him. “I assume you’ve been wearing that since you got into the café this morning?”

“Aye. When Isla asked and I said it was for you, she told me not to involve her in our sex games.” He lets Oscar escape his arms, and then takes a seat at the table.

“Did you tell her we’ve had sex?”

“No, but I can’t lie about blatant sexual tension.” He gives an overexaggerated lift of his shoulders.

“You being a morning person is your worst personality trait. ”

He snickers as he reaches across the table to steal a sip of my coffee, afterward making an “eh” face.

I steal my coffee mug back and hold it with both hands. “Is this the only reason you’re here? To show off your ass in those insanely tight shorts?”

“I also wanted to see if you’re okay after last night.”

My body stiffens. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? I know you don’t want to talk about what exactly went down with you and Atti, but I’m here for you if you’d like to talk.”

“I don’t.”

His shoulders slump. “Lin, please. I want to know before I have to see him again. He’s an arsehole to you, which is reason enough to hate him, I get it, but there’s something else. I can tell there’s something else.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

I don’t say anything in response.

He taps his fingers on the table twice, seemingly trying so hard not to be irritated. I’m irritated with myself.

“I have told you everything ,” he says carefully. “I don’t think there is an emotional trauma stone I have left unturned. I would love if you could do the same for me.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I care about you . That’s why.”

I scoff. “We’re confusing things again.”

“I’m not allowed to care about you?”

My eyes shoot back to his. “ No , we’re getting confused—pretending that this thing between us is anything more than an agreement. We keep crossing lines.”

His jaw tightens. “Maybe there’s a reason for that. ”

“What reason, Ben? Tell me what you think the reason is.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks at me, shaking his head.

My chin lifts. “This is over after the wedding—like we agreed. Wedding, then we never see one another again.”

“Never see each other again? You can’t be serious.”

I’m thinking the same thing. Am I serious? Ben is my friend. I don’t want to lose him. But I don’t let on.

I end this discussion with, “Don’t you have to open the café?”

He exhales sharply. “Aye. And change into something normal. See you later, Lin.”

…

“Namaste,” the instructor says once we sit back up after Savasana.

My yoga class is over, so the people around me start to shuffle, cleaning their mats, returning blocks and blankets, and packing up. The lights are still turned all the way down.

I was expecting this, so I just sit and wait in my spot near the back, where I had a direct eyeline of the teacher.

I pretend I am still so into my meditation.

I was unreasonably and unbelievably nervous before coming here.

So much of my time used to be spent in this exact studio, but it has been ten months since I’ve been here.

I let myself retreat into my solitude, give up things I used to enjoy. It’s time to start taking them back.

The lights are brought back up, though still at a very dim level.

Good enough. I stand, adjusting my ponytail as I evaluate the area, clocking people, mats, water bottles, and any other obstacles before I walk to the back corner to grab a cloth and cleaning spray.

When I make it to my destination, my heart is beating like I just walked through high-speed traffic.

I fetch the cloth and cleaning spray, and then narrowly miss a water bottle in the middle of the floor on my walk back.

As I’m cleaning my mat, the lights get brighter .

The instructor says in a pinched tone, “Oh, sorry, can you not touch the lights?”

Then I hear a familiar voice I haven’t heard in a while say, “It was too dark. I couldn’t see a damn thing.”

I lift my head to find my old yoga buddy, Emma, who, by the way, could likely see just fine in the dim light. I shake my head at her as we lock eyes.

“Always making a scene on my behalf,” I say as I roll up my mat.

She strolls over to me, making a weak attempt to fix the hair escaping from her bun, halting as she stands above me. “Would have said hi earlier, but I got here late.”

“Ah, that was you. There is a way to keep the front door from slamming, you know.”

“Eh, no harm in making my presence known.”

“How have you been?” I ask as I stand, tucking my mat under my arm.

“I’ve been fine. How have you been? It’s been so long, I thought you moved. Or, did you move? I remember your fiancé was from London.”

I grimace and hold up my naked left hand. “Ex-fiancé,” I correct.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, then I have to say, I always thought he sounded like a real wanker.”

A surprised laugh bursts from my chest. “He is. Very much so. You never met him, though, right? What made you think that?”

She sucks her teeth. “Little things you would say about him, that’s all. You told me a story once about him getting upset when you knocked over a glass at a pub. That wasn’t cool.” She cocks her head. “Oh, and weren’t you—?”

I cut her off with a quick shake of my head .

She nods, moving on. “So, are you going to start coming back here?”

“That’s the plan. I’ve missed it. I just…I was in a funk that I’m starting to get out of. So, I’m back.”

“Good,” she says like she means it. “I’ve missed you. You were always so fun to talk to. Remember that time when the instructor kept glaring at us because we were talking in the back of class?”

“Yes, I do. Especially because that would happen in nearly every class we took together. It’s not like we weren’t participating.”

“We were ruining the mood.” She laughs and starts to walk toward the door. “Would you like to get lunch or a drink sometime soon?”

My heart lurches with nervous trepidation mixed with excitement. “Yeah. I would. Do you still have my number?”

Emma checks her phone as she says, “Can’t imagine why I wouldn’t. Ah, aye, there you are. Wow, under five unanswered direct questions I sent you.”

I cringe. “Sorry, I was—”

“In a funk,” she finishes for me. “It’s fine.”

I feel my phone buzz, Emma’s name lighting up on my screen.

EMMA: Hi :)

“Got it,” I say.

“Good. About time we took this friendship out of the yoga studio. I gotta check my schedule, but I’ll text you?”

“Sounds good.”