Hooked on You

by Jenn Matthews

  “I always seem to have a project of my own to make, don’t I?” Anna asked. “One day I will make one of your patterns, I promise.”

  “So long as you’re enjoying yourself, it’s fine. When you’re out of ideas, you can help us make the hanging for the Women’s Institute in the church hall.”

  “Yes, that sounds like an exciting project. How did it come about?”

  Ollie’s stomach tingled as she glanced towards the ever-increasing number of squares in her wicker basket. “Sandra, the head woman—or whatever you call them—of the WI, approached me, wondered if we could make something for the hall. Apparently some big mural they used to have hung up there ended up with rain damage from a leak in the ceiling. Bits started dropping off it and it went mouldy. Anyway, they had the leak fixed so it wouldn’t happen again, so I said sure, figured people have enough odds and ends lying around that they’re doing nothing with.”

  “How big is it going to be?”

  “As big as we can get it. The wall it’s going on is three metres high and seven wide, but I doubt we’ll fill the whole space.”

  “Big ask.” Anna’s gaze flicked towards the squares. “Lovely idea, though. Something we can do together.” She tapped her hook against her chin. “Once I’ve finished this, I’ll help out.”

  “That’d be amazing.” Too much enthusiasm had slipped out. Oh well. I’m supposed to be excited about it, I suppose.

  Anna nodded. “Well, look—nearly run out of wool.” She held up her blanket.

  “Have you done that all this week?”

  “I have. Not bad for an amateur, hmm?” Anna winked at her.

  The warmth in Ollie’s limbs flooded to the rest of her body.

  “Fast learner, obviously,” Sarah said, smiling first at Anna, then Ollie.

  “Reckon you’ll be finished tonight?” Christian asked.

  “Oh no, I doubt it.” A blush crept across Anna’s cheeks. “Probably not tonight.”

  “You might.” Ollie went to put the kettle on, then grabbed the mugs from the cupboard.

  Anna went back to talking with Sarah and Christian. Eventually they all became engrossed in their own projects, heads bent and conversation petering out.

  The kettle clicked off. Ollie turned to make everyone drinks, the steam billowing into her face as she leant over to collect teabags and sugar.

  Matthew sat in the middle of the room. He was inching closer and closer to Harry, who usually sat at the back. Harry, with his large brown eyes and handsome curly hair, changed where he sat each week. He seemed to want to interact with every one of the menagerie of people who came. He had a slow and gentle way of crocheting, a kindness that seeped from him in sunny waves. He’d made so many squares for the project, each one detailed and beautiful, and she was very grateful. She hadn’t spoken to Harry extensively, but she wished Matthew would stop staring at him, or else make a damn move to be friends.

  It’s like an MI5 agent crossed themselves with a droopy-eyed golden retriever.

  Ollie felt like she’d barely seen Anna, and by the end of the class, she wished the clock could have slowed down. I should have offered her some help. As she watched Anna pack up, she noted the blanket was nearly finished.

  As Matthew stood, Ollie hopped around the table and pushed him towards where Harry was collecting together his yarn. Matthew made a grunting noise of protest, but she shot him a hard look. He rolled his eyes.

  “Would you just go and say hi? It’s getting silly now.”

  Matthew dropped his shoulders. A long moment later, he shuffled towards Harry.

  When Ollie remembered to turn back and check on them, Matthew was standing before Harry, saying something too low for her to hear. Harry’s mouth pulled into a wide smile that made his eyes shine.

  Finally.

  Everyone else trailed out of the room and into the night. Matthew and Harry left together, still talking—albeit awkwardly.

  Only Anna remained. She wound her yarn into a small ball before replacing it in her bag. Ollie took her time placing the mugs back in the cupboard, hoping the thudding of her heart would quieten. She tapped her fingertip in a staccato rhythm on the handle of the cupboard after closing it.

  Come on, she’ll be out of the door before you turn round at this rate. Remember what Matthew said: just go for it.

  Going over to her turned out to be the easy part.

  “Um…” Ollie played with the sleeve of her top. As she shifted her weight from her right hip to her left, the familiar ache in her leg twinged. I wish I didn’t feel so awkward around her.

  Anna stood there, gazing up at her, her bag slung over her shoulder, a ten-pound note held out in front of her. Her expression that accompanied the offering made Ollie remember the time one of her friends at junior school gave her a Malteser, announcing it was the last one and that meant they were married.

  Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t realise my attraction to women earlier.

  “My fees for today and the week before,” Anna said.

  She stuffed the note into the envelope with the others. “How a-about we go for a drink?”

  “Greasy spoon?” Anna’s tone was level. “Although they may not have free cake again.”

  “I was thinking…you like Merlot.” Ollie shrugged. “I mean, if you’d like to…you know.” She swallowed and looked around herself, then back at Anna. “Go for a proper drink?”

  “Sure.” The corners of Anna’s eyes crinkled. “Would it be weird, though,” she continued, her fingers playing with the strap of her cloth bag, “if I crocheted? I’m so close to finishing and…do people do that in the pub? I’ve never thought to look.”

  Ollie held a finger up, trotted into the main shop, and returned a moment later with a cylindrical bag with a wide handle. “People do now,” she said. “I can help you if you get stuck.”

  Anna nodded and stopped fidgeting. “Well that sounds… That would be lovely.”

  With a bounce in her step, Ollie locked up the shop, and then they walked out into the cold air. Ollie led Anna to her local, a small establishment with quiet music and a few old blokes drinking cider in the back. They took a small table, and Ollie went to order them a drink.

  Anna hummed as a glass of wine appeared in front of her.

  The chair was reasonably comfortable as Ollie slid in beside her; their backs were to the window, and Ollie tried not to think about people walking past, seeing her with a woman and making assumptions. She tried to calm her fluttering nerves by focusing on Anna as she lifted her glass to her lips.

  The burgundy liquid reflected onto Anna’s freckles as she took a sip and closed her eyes.

  Ollie gazed at Anna’s lips for a moment and almost shook her head. She reached down to the floor where her bag sat and took out the small oblong she’d already made, unclipped the peg that stopped the piece from unravelling, and wound the yarn over her finger.

  She began to crochet the brightly coloured yarn in short rows, glancing up after a few stitches. Anna was still looking at her.

  Those green eyes were wide. “What’re you making?”

  “Lego blanket,” Ollie replied. She tore her gaze away from Anna’s face to concentrate on the first few stitches.

  When she looked up again, she caught Anna scanning around, to the far side of Ollie’s lap, then down at her bag. “Pattern?” she asked.

  “Hmmm. No.” Her cheeks flushed. She wished she’d brought something a little more defined, indeed, something with a pattern. “A friend of a friend—their kid loves Lego. She saw this on Pinterest and…” Ollie cleared her throat. “She’s paying me so…” Ollie made a popcorn stitch—a round bobble that poked out—and turned her head to grin at Anna, not needing to keep her gaze on her fingers for every stitch.

  Anna watched her.

  Ollie pointed at the large blanket, still bundled i
n the cloth bag by Anna’s feet, with her hook tip. “Come on. Idle hands and all that.”

  Anna gathered up her blanket. She started crocheting trebles, but then wobbled and huffed to herself. Ollie looked up from her work again: Anna’s neat trebles were falling prey to small fumbles.

  The desire to help at every opportunity fought against Ollie’s teacher training, which told her she should let Anna figure out how to correct her own mistakes. I’ll leave her, she’ll be okay. No need to highlight that she feels nervous. She paused inwardly. Why does she feel nervous?

  The sound of Anna sipping her wine and sliding the glass carefully onto a beer mat made her look up again. Anna’s shining eyes were staring at her.

  “You’re amazing,” she told Ollie.

  Ollie fumbled mid-stitch as she relished in the look of wonder in Anna’s eyes. “Five years of practice,” she said. “I can pretty much work out anything for myself so long as there’s a good enough picture of the thing I want.”

  “That’s because you’re clever,” Anna said with quiet certainty, then returned her gaze to her blanket. Her fingers worked smoothly and steadily now.

  Sunshine seemed to dissolve through Ollie’s skin, a feeling that was growing more and more familiar the more time she spent with Anna. “Um, you don’t need help with that, either, do you?” Ollie eyed the blanket, reaching for her own wine glass. It was easier to focus on the red liquid than to look up at Anna and confirm whether or not she was imagining things.

  “Maybe not. But it is nice to have company.”

  The sunshine feeling intensified, and a soaring sensation took over. She shivered, overwhelmed. She concentrated on her Lego pieces, and her whole body relaxed into the low murmur of the pub, which was just rickety and old-fashioned enough that no one stared at them for their strange activities. The smell of spilt beer, old fags, and sweat tickled Ollie’s nose and reminded her of days long past, of being allowed a packet of crisps and a lemonade while out with her parents. The memory grounded her even further and reminded her that she was safe, and that her feelings were valid, even if they weren’t reciprocated.

  “I do find it therapeutic,” Ollie said. “Even five years later.”

  Anna stopped to take a sip of her wine.

  “Is that what it was? Therapy for you?” Her green eyes were steady on Ollie’s.

  She should have felt worried about disclosing that part of her history. But Ollie returned the gaze with an unfamiliar feeling of strength. “Not really—at least not at first. I just needed something to do. Slowly, though…” Ollie shrugged. “Once you get good at something—get so good you don’t much have to think about it but you’re making something, creating something with your own hands—it starts to mean your life is actually worth it again.”

  Those eyes were trained on her glass. “Better than sitting on your backside all day, I suppose.”

  “I’m not sure I would have managed without the crochet, without at least something to take my mind off everything.”

  “Recovery and divorce, both at the same time?” Anna winced. “I can’t imagine.”

  “I used to go for a run when I was stressed, before I was blown up. But when you’re stuck in a wheelchair and then reliant on crutches for months on end…” Ollie sighed. Her fluttering fringe tickled her forehead. She grimaced. “I know I was lucky.”

  “What luck that the old lady who lived next door had the time to teach you.”

  It was as if a snake had coiled around Ollie’s stomach and squeezed it.

  A frown slipped across Anna’s face and she touched the back of Ollie’s hand, just for a moment. “Hey, I’d miss her too.”

  Ollie nodded. “Maggie died shortly after I found my feet again.” She shook her head and then made herself sit up straight. “She left me some money. She didn’t have children.”

  “She must have been terribly proud of you.”

  Tears threatened to fall. “She told me if I didn’t put it to good use she’d come back and haunt me.” It was a relief to remember something that broke the sombre mood. Anna laughed, and it made Ollie break into a snigger.

  “To Maggie,” Anna said, raising her glass.

  Ollie clinked their glasses together. “To the woman who stopped me going insane.”

  “What did you do with the money? Did you a take a holiday or something once you were recovered?”

  “Nothing quite that glamorous. I bought the shop,” Ollie said. “And I put some of it towards taking my swimming instructor courses. Those things aren’t cheap.”

  “I think she’d be happy with that.”

  “I hope so. At least I’m using some of my teacher training.” Her attention shifted back to the tiny blue oblong hanging from her hook.

  They worked in silence for a little longer. Ollie heard a huff from Anna’s side of the table.

  She looked up to see Anna pulling the end of the yarn through the loop on her hook and tugged it tight. “Done.” Her hook tinkled as she placed it on the small table. After sliding out and standing tall, she held the blanket out with both hands.

  Ollie beamed up at her.

  “Not bad work, hmm?”

  “Absolutely, not bad.” Ollie grinned at the eyes peeping over the top of the blanket, which was heavy enough to bow in the middle between Anna’s hands. “I love the colours you chose.”

  Anna dropped back into the chair, before folding the blanket into quarters, stuffing it into her cloth bag.

  “Just weave in the ends and you’re done.” Ollie looked at her own hook and then continued to crochet.

  Anna reached for her wine and sat back with a sigh. She swallowed the last of it and pushed up her shoulders with a wide smile. Another wordless but pleased noise escaped her. “Another?” Anna started to stand, reaching for her purse.

  “I’d love one…but…”

  “You have work in the morning.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So do I.” The purse went back into Anna’s bag.

  I suppose it’s for the best. Ollie wasn’t sure if she could manage another glass of wine. Her limp always became more pronounced when she drank too much.

  Ollie packed her bits and pieces away and got up to use the toilet, indicating with a pointed finger where she was headed. She limped off to the Ladies’. Her step faltered just in the moment she hoped Anna wasn’t watching her walk. She felt exposed, hated to be watched when she walked. The disabled toilet loomed invitingly in front of her, but she skirted past it. I’m not using a disabled toilet in front of her.

  Once she had clambered from the toilet, she scrubbed at her hands. The circular mirror above the sink held her reflection. The small smile on her face felt stuck in place. It had been so nice to spend time with Anna outside the classroom again—but the evening was very nearly over. Her reflection blinked and she gripped the side of the sink in dismay. Oh damn. Her own eyes stared judgingly back at her. I’ve talked about myself for the entire evening. She decided she would ask Anna more about herself next time they met.

  She left the bathroom to join a smiling Anna before they left the pub.

  It was cold. Ollie wanted to offer Anna her arm, to walk close with her and claim it was about sharing a little body heat. However, Anna had her scarf and coat gathered around her, so that excuse wouldn’t work.

  “Did you manage to get a new toaster?” she asked instead, her breath swirling around her in the winter air as she walked beside Anna.

  Anna laughed throatily. Rather a sexy noise. “Yes, I did, thank you. A nice shiny one, in red, if you must know.”

  “Very nice. So, basically, it matches everything in your house.”

  Anna shook her head. “I do branch out into other colours sometimes, you know.”

  “Are you telling me that your house is not one big burgundy paradise?”

  “Not quite. Just the to
aster, and a few other bits.”

  “I hope the kids are happy with it.”

  “They don’t get a say in the matter.” Anna held her head high.

  “I like a woman who can take control of toaster-choosing operations.”

  Anna playfully bumped Ollie’s shoulder with her own. Her shoulders relaxing, Ollie lifted her head to smile back at her. They arrived at the car park close to Ollie’s flat.

  “This was a nice evening.” Anna turned to stand in front of Ollie as they stopped by her car. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “I’m glad you said yes.”

  Car keys jingled as Anna pulled them from her pocket, but she made no move to unlock her car. She fidgeted with the strap of her cloth bag. “We should do it again sometime,” she said, eyes big and green and shining in the street lights.

  Some of Ollie’s reserve floated away and her gaze drifted down to Anna’s lips. Anna shifted her feet in a restless gesture, but then suddenly tilted her chin up.

  A jolt of surprise coursed through Ollie that she had to work to tamp down. I’m reading too much into this. So Ollie just squeezed Anna’s shoulder and stepped back, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. “Definitely.”

  Still smiling, Anna pressed the button on her key. The beep of the car unlocking sounded like a child’s screech in the deserted car park.

  Ollie stepped further away, dipping her head to one side.

  Curvy hips settled themselves into the driver’s seat. Anna gave her a little wave through the side window.

  Contemplating a salute but dismissing the idea before she could follow through, Ollie waved back, her bag swinging from its long strap. She stopped abruptly when it banged into her body. Smooth, Ollie.

  The engine roared into life, and a moment later, Anna drove away.

  Her knee was starting to ache, and Ollie’s gait was slow on the way back to her flat. She trudged up the stairs. As soon as she entered the flat, her bag thudded onto the living room carpet. Her body was buzzing, full of nervous energy—alive.

  She’s so pretty. I want to kiss her. She flopped onto the sofa, her head dropping immediately into her hand.