Page 34 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

I follow her back to the reception area that is separated from the practice space by a thin, white curtain, and then out the front door. We go our separate ways.

I made a friend. A potential friend. No, an old friend. My own friend. Not one of Ben’s friends. The urge to do a little wiggle of a dance in the street nearly gets me.

I’m halfway down the block when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out. It’s Mel.

I stick in my headphones and answer, “Hello?”

“Hiya, so guess what? I hate the color pink.”

“Pink is one of your wedding colors.”

“I know!” Mel goes into a rant about how she still likes mint, but pink is a horrible choice and she should have gone with cream instead. I attempt to spit reassurances at her. It is far too late to change the colors now, but I avoid saying that.

However, I am distracted when I spot Ben across the street, shopping tote looped around his shoulder, changed from the cycling clothes I saw him in this morning. I offer a timid wave, hoping to mend what I tried to break earlier. I point to my ear to indicate that I am on the phone.

He smiles widely and waves back. Then he makes a circular motion with his finger.

“What?” I mouth back, crossing the street toward him.

He does it again.

Aloud, I say, “I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

In my ear, Mel says, “That I think I do like pink.”

I put my fingers on my headphone as I say, “No, sorry, Melly. I ran into Ben. But I will note, I love pink. It’s a fun color to pair with mint. Very Spring-y.”

Ben says, “Give us a twirl. I gave you one this morning.”

In my ear, Mel asks, “What is he saying?”

“He’s objectifying me because I’m wearing leggings,” I answer flatly.

She says, “That’s rude. Did you go to yoga?”

“I did. And it’s okay. I objectified him earlier,” I say, referring to his bike shorts.

Mel says, “Too much information,” as I appease Ben and give him a little spin.

“Happy?” I ask.

“Exceedingly,” he answers, falling into step beside me. I don’t even argue as he begins to walk me home.

“Stop being cute with your boyfriend and focus on me,” Mel says in my ear.

“Sorry,” I say, the word boyfriend dragging its guilt across my chest.

“So, we think the pink is okay?”

“We think the pink is great.”

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 a line,” I say firmly.

He scoffs. “Well, then the goddamn line needs to be pushed back because if that line says I can’t care about you, I’m done.”

“You’re done?” I repeat, stunned.

“I’m done.”

I purse my lips. This can’t end here. I mutter, “You’re allowed to care about me, Ben.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” I meet his eye. “Because I care about you, too.”

He seems satisfied. “Grand. So, the line has been officially pushed.”

“Okay.”

I relink myself to him as we start walking again, mentally crossing my fingers, hoping he does not bring up Atti.

He doesn’t. Instead, he gets us back to normal and says, “So, I, er, I agreed to go to a football match with David on Saturday. Tomorrow.”

My eyebrows raise. “Did you? Just you and him?”

“Aye.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Very. But it’s good that we’re doing this.”

I squeeze his upper arm. “I agree. I’m here if you need to talk about it with me afterward.”

“Thank you, Linbolina.”

“That’s a new one.”

“I think it’s a new favorite.”

I chuckle, shoving my key into my door. I’m personally a sucker for “sugar” or “Lin.” But he doesn’t need to know that.