Page 35 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Ben

I arrive at the stadium, nervously fidgeting with my sunglasses as I walk the long stretch of pavement that leads to the gates.

David texted to say he’s waiting outside.

This is a bit of an odd choice of activity for us.

I mean, I love football. David likes it okay, but the American in him has always much preferred a baseball game to “soccer.”

He suggested this because he knows I like it.

When I see him through the crowds, he throws up a hand in a wave. “Hi,” I say as I reach him.

“Hey, man.” He gestures to my kit. “I see the lucky jersey still fits.”

I sigh dramatically. “I figured by the age of thirty, my bulging muscles would have made it tear in two from the bulk. But, alas.”

“Those thighs are trying to do the work of that.”

“I’ve ripped a trouser or two in my time.”

“I know. I was witness to both of those occasions.”

I click my tongue. “You liked it.” I cringe, coughing as I reprimand myself for getting too comfortable. As much as I wish things were back to the way they used to be, we are not there yet .

But David smiles as though we are. “Should we head in?”

“Aye.”

I follow him into the stadium. We stop for beer and snacks and then find our seats. Christ, I forgot how tight these little seats are. Our thighs are a sliver apart, and only because I am squeezing my legs together as best I can without crushing the goods.

I take a long sip of my beer, scouring my brain for a subject to discuss, praying the game starts early so we have something to focus on. It didn’t used to be like this. I ruined this. I ruined us.

David breaks into my panic with, “Listen, at your birthday, I’m sorry I told Linny about the kiss.

I…I figured she knew because you said she knew everything.

I shouldn’t have even brought it up, but I just started talking because I felt incredibly uncomfortable.

” He quickly corrects, “Not that I’m uncomfortable with you or her.

But I don’t want Linny to not like me because it’s obvious how much you like her. ”

I chuckle lightly, patting him on the back. “Getting straight into it, aren’t we? It’s fine, mate. What you said to her was right. We should have talked about it then.”

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

“At a footie match? Surrounded by all these foul-mouthed lads? Alright.” I scratch awkwardly behind my ear. “Erm, I had been thinking about laying one on ye for a while. The alcohol gave me a little push. It was nice but…” I trail off, not sure I am ready to admit this fact.

He cocks his head. “But?”

“But there was no spark. I sensed it then, but we were pissed enough that I thought maybe if it happened again while we were sober, there would be a spark.”

“What are you saying?”

“That, there’s no denying my feelings for you, but I ignored evidence that you did not feel the same.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, looking truly distressed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to love me like that. Just because we’re best mates who are both queer—and both very handsome—and one of us fell, the other doesn’t have to. Especially when he has a bloke already.”

David smiles softly at the mention of Callum. “Are we still best friends?”

“Aren’t we a little old to be using phrases like ‘best friends?’”

“You said it first.”

“Technically, I used the word ‘mate.’ But you never won’t be my best friend, David.”

“You never won’t be mine.”

I take a sip of beer, looking away, things getting too gooey for public. Thankfully, the match is starting. The ref drops the ball, and the Hearts take it almost immediately. The match is well fought, though, because the other team steals it, running down the pitch. The game keeps going.

After a particularly bad call, I stand in my seat to yell at the ref, then drop back down.

“So, what’d’ya like about him?” I ask.

David cocks his head at me. “Who?”

“Callum. Is it the hair? The hair is lovely. Or is it the fact that he is literally the nicest bloke I’ve ever met?

I had a minging cold my first year of uni and he brought me soup.

Like, what nineteen-year-old bloke brings another bloke soup?

Him, that’s who. And just when I thought I was special, it turns out he was doing soup runs all over campus, that soup slut. ”

David laughs loudly. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call my boyfriend a ‘soup slut.’ ”

“I mean it in the nicest way.”

“Only you could.” He shakes his head with a smile.

“I do love him because he’s kind. And because he’s funny.

And smart—I mean, he actually knows what I’m talking about when I tell him about my studies.

But, you’re right, he is so good at the little things.

Remembering my mom’s birthday. Remembering the town my dad grew up in.

My favorite sweet. Kissing me like there is nothing else he would rather be doing, even if it’s just a peck before we walk out the door.

He’s quiet, but he listens so well. And when he’s not quiet, I love listening to him.

He gets so heated about TV shows sometimes.

Will rant for hours about inconsistencies or wrong choices.

It’s everything, Ben. I love everything. ”

“Sounds like he’s treating you right, then.” I knew Callum was a stand-up guy, but it’s nice to hear it from David’s lips.

“He is. And how about Linny? She’s treating you well?”

I break out into an uncontrollable grin that I wish I could control. My fake girlfriend Linny. Who things are ending with after the wedding. My expression drops, but I may as well answer truthfully.

“She’s a dream, mate. She’s a little mean, which you know I love, very grumpy, which I also love, and so goddamn sweet. Her laugh is probably my favorite sound in the world.”

Linny makes it so easy for me to find things I enjoy about her.

“That’s amazing, man. And, sorry for prying, but does she have a little visual impairment thing going on? It’s just, I’ve noticed her bump into things, and that you guide her in dark spaces, and I’ve overheard a conversation or two you’ve had. It reminds me of my uncle with Macular Degeneration.”

“I’m sure she’d love to be compared to Uncle Earl.

She’s basically got the opposite. Macular Degeneration starts in the middle and moves out, RP starts from the sides and moves in.

God, her eyes, though. Have you seen them?

That blue? She has the prettiest eyes I have ever seen in my entire life.

They’d be perfect if they didn’t give her so much trouble.

” I shake my head. “I think they’re perfect anyway, but she hates that this is happening to her, and it crushes me to see her sad about it.

Or angry about it. She’s both a lot of the time. ”

“She’s lucky she found you.”

“Naw, I’m the lucky one.”

…

The rest of the game is great. There’s this ease between David and me that hasn’t been there the last few times we’ve seen each other.

Though, admittedly, maybe it was missing because the last time we were truly alone together was when we were in the toilet the night we had supper. The match was a good idea.

After it ends and we exit the stadium, we get ready to go our separate ways. Before we do, I go in for a hug. Squeezing him tightly, I say, “Thanks for today, mate.” I release him without doing anything peculiar like smelling him.

“It was a good day, Ben. I’ll see you soon? Stop by Hoot sometime I’m working.”

“Aye. Or you stop by the café before you head to campus or whatever.”

“I’ll do it.”

I head back home, feeling the wild temptation to head for Linny’s instead of mine. But I’m getting confused—just like she said. All that talk today about her and Callum got in my head, tricking me into thinking that we’re actually in a relationship. We’re not. I know we’re not.

But I can’t help but wonder if the only thing holding us back is ourselves and our stubbornness.

…

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: How was the football match?

The text from Linny comes in after I get home. I’m lying in bed wishing there was a cat beside me. Or a pretty girl. Or both.

I type my response to Linny.

ME: It was nice. Honestly. Normal, for the most part

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: That’s great

ME: Yeah, I think so too

I gnaw my lip, staring at the bright screen on my phone. I take a few beats, then send her another text.

ME: We talked about you a bit

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: You did?

ME: Yeah. I had asked about Callum. Real dramatic ‘why do you love him and not me’ type question. But in a nice way

ME: So, David asked about you. I just told him everything I like about ya

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: Short list, yeah?

ME: Incredibly long list, actually

ME: Number one being: mother to the best cat in the whole world

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: Naturally

ME: I mean, there’s a reason your contact name is ‘Oscar Wilde’s Mother’

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: It is not

ME: Oh, but it is

I send her a screenshot of her contact name.

She sends back the rolling eyes emoji. Then:

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: Well, yours is just Ben. I need something better

ME: Hottest man alive?

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: Eh

ME: Silver fox?

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: Maybe in a few years

ME: Benny

There’s a slight delay before she texts me back. When she does, she says:

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: I’ll consider it

I offer her an out.

ME: Pheromone king?

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: Bingo. That’s the one

I think that’s probably where we’re going to leave it, but then she sends another text.

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: The rehearsal dinner is Friday, just as a reminder. You don’t have to come

ME: Do you not want me there?

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: It might be boring for you is all I’m saying

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: I always like when you’re around

I bite the corner of my mouth. She’s so good at that, letting me know that she wants me around, even when she thinks I might not want to be. Though that’s where her assumption is wrong—I want to be anywhere and everywhere she is. Always.

ME: You’ll be there, so I’ll be there too

ME: Come by the café tomorrow? Or I’ll come by the shop?

I miss you is the implied end of that text.

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: I’ll stop by the café

OSCAR WILDE’S MOTHER: See you tomorrow?

ME: See you tomorrow