Hooked on You

by Jenn Matthews

  Figuring she was eventually going to get caught if she stared at Anna’s mouth for much longer, Ollie picked up her own cutlery and begun dealing with her linguine.

  Anna shook her head. “No, we shall have to do something about that.”

  “Oh? What do you suggest?”

  “Well, perhaps on my next excursion away, you should come too.” Somehow Ollie got the impression she didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

  “Wouldn’t that…” Ollie swivelled a prawn to encase it in the flat pasta. The taste of it made her imagine sunset walks with Anna along an Italian street, cram-packed full of bustling restaurants. She cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t that be a bit weird? You know?”

  Small lines appeared between Anna’s eyebrows. “Why?”

  “Because…you know. Going on holiday with someone like me.”

  “Someone who’s…,” Anna looked at her with interest, “crafty?”

  “No.”

  “Someone with a limp?”

  There was a sparkle in Anna’s eye. Ollie snorted. She should have known Anna was taking the mickey. “No. Although going through security is always fun. I have a lot of metalwork down there.” She rubbed the side of her knee where the scars were hidden by her trousers.

  Anna put her fork down and folded her arms, her gaze steady and demanding. “Are you saying I should be uncomfortable going on holiday with you because you’re gay?”

  Ollie’s gaze flashed down into her linguine, and a sick feeling rolled through her stomach. I hate that word so much.

  Anna frowned. “I’m sorry. Are you…” She cleared her throat. “Are you not?”

  “No,” Ollie said. “I mean yes. I am.”

  Fingers touched the edge of Ollie’s plate. A forefinger lifted and gave Ollie a tiny persistent wave until Ollie finally looked up. God, Anna’s eyes were so soft.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” Anna’s hand moved back to her lap. “I was just teasing you.”

  “No, it’s…it’s okay,” Ollie replied. “Matthew keeps telling me I should say it more often.”

  “Say what?”

  There was a pause. “That I’m gay.” Her gaze held Anna’s. She swallowed and shivered.

  It was a relief when Anna smiled broadly. I made that happen, just by uttering three small words.

  “For the record,” Anna said, “I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable going on holiday with you, for any reason.”

  “Okay.”

  “I understand it must be difficult.”

  Ollie tilted her head to the side.

  “You know, I…” Anna paused. Her gaze flicked back and forth as she seemed to be searching for words. “I once kissed a girl, when I was in college.”

  “Did you?” That was surprising. Not that it’s uncommon—loads of teenagers kiss their friends.

  “So, I mean I can’t say I…” Anna seemed breathless, and she was looking into her ravioli as if it held the answers to all of the universe’s questions. “I can’t say I have had the same experience as you. But I think I understand how… how hard it can be.”

  “So…” Ollie picked up her wine and sipped to give herself a moment. “So, you’re attracted to women?” If she says no, that it was just a one-time thing when she was younger, I’ll never be able to look at her again.

  Anna stared at her. “Maybe,” she answered, her voice soft. She mimicked Ollie’s motion with the wine glass. “Possibly. No. I think I am. It was just that once, but it awakened something in me, I suppose.”

  “Right.” Ollie’s heart rate sped up, and she tried to keep her jittery reaction hidden. Oh my goodness. “So, would you identify as…as bisexual?”

  “I suppose I would,” Anna said, frowning at her wine. As she dropped her gaze to her food, her expression softened into a smile. “This is good.” Her voice was brighter, too, but she still appeared rather flustered.

  Anna was bisexual. Ollie wondered how a single concept could make things so much more complicated. If she assumed Anna liked her like that, Anna would undoubtedly inform her that just because she was into women did not mean she was into her. Just because Anna found some women attractive did not mean she found every woman attractive. She should not expect anything because they were just friends. Any holiday together would probably mean Ollie seeing Anna in a swimsuit and trying not to look, but also trying to look a little bit, because she didn’t want Anna to think she thought she was ugly and totally undesirable. The ridiculousness of that dual prospect already made her certain she would never go on a holiday with Anna. She would go crazy.

  Ollie’s gaze returned to her food, her mind whirring. When she realised she’d been staring at it for far too long, she wound pasta around a prawn and held it up to Anna.

  There was a pause while Anna narrowed her eyes at the forkful, then she returned her gaze to Ollie. She nodded, however, and took the fork. Swishing the food around in her mouth, she closed her eyes in pleasure and handed the fork back. “Thank you. Also delicious.”

  “We’ll have to come here again.”

  The change in topic was a relief.

  “Once we’ve visited every other good restaurant in Nailsea.” Anna scooped a piece of ravioli onto her fork, added a little sauce and held it out. Ollie took the fork and made sure their hands didn’t brush. It felt like they were miles away from one another now, the table a playing field between them.

  She handed Anna’s fork back. They ate for a while in silence, both with their own thoughts.

  Why couldn’t Anna have simply kept quiet about it? Ollie had felt so much happier craving Anna when she knew she couldn’t have her. But now? Her brain felt constricted and confused.

  So Ollie drank her wine and finished her main course and watched as Anna finished her glass, too.

  They both looked at the empty bottle and then simultaneously turned around to look for the waiter. They looked back at one another, smirking at their mirrored behaviour.

  The waiter took their plates, and Anna ordered them a glass of wine each. Good idea. I’d be drunk by the time we left if we shared another bottle. This choice was not a Merlot, but it was red, at least, and Anna’s choice.

  “You know,” Anna began, fingers toying with the stem of her glass, eyes very much trained away from Ollie’s, “it’s a shame you only have Sundays off.” She locked Ollie’s gaze with her own. “Have you never truly thought about employing a second in command at the shop? Or maybe stopping a few of the swimming lessons? Five in a week is a lot when you have a full-time job as well.”

  “I feel, I suppose…responsible,” Ollie replied. “I spent all Maggie’s money on…on getting my qualifications and buying the shop, and I’m not sure I could trust anyone else to keep it going one day a week.”

  “I do worry about you,” Anna said, which caused Ollie’s heart to pitter-patter. “I do worry that you work yourself ragged and don’t allow yourself time to relax.”

  “I promise I do relax.” Ollie reached across the table. When Anna looked down at Ollie’s fingers, Ollie nearly pulled her hand back, but then Anna placed her hand over Ollie’s. Her fingertips smoothed against the back of her hand.

  “When?” she challenged.

  Laughing, Ollie turned her hand over underneath Anna’s and tickled her palm a little with her fingertips.

  Anna inhaled audibly at the contact.

  Well, things are looking up, aren’t they? “I go out with Matthew at least once a week, usually on a Saturday. I only do classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I teach swimming straight after I close up shop, and only for an hour. And I make sure Sunday is a proper day of rest.” Ollie tilted her head a little to one side.

  “Still,” Anna said. “One day off a week can’t be enough to really recharge?”

  “I’m used to the army, I suppose.” She looked out of the window beside them, into
the dark street, falling into memory. But she kept her hand beneath Anna’s, fingers still waving in a small tickle against Anna’s palm. The sensation kept her grounded. “Getting up at six, going to bed at eight,” she continued. “And after my inconvenient accident, I was so miserable, just sitting around doing nothing that I swore if I ever got back properly on my feet I would never sit around again. I’d make the most of my life.”

  When Ollie looked back at Anna, Anna’s eyes were a little wet. She was about to react, to grip her fingers and tell her it was okay, that she wasn’t miserable anymore, when the waiter brought them their glasses of wine. Their hands pulled away from one another.

  The candle flickered a little, and she marvelled at how the light from that one small flame made the skin of Anna’s cheeks look golden. It lit up her eyes, too, small flecks of yellow shining out from the green.

  “I still think you should get an assistant,” Anna said.

  “Are you offering?”

  She laughed. “That wouldn’t be very wise, would it?”

  Ollie looked at her in confusion.

  “My intentions are not completely selfless. I want to make sure if I’m busy on a Saturday night that I have an alternative so I can still take you out for dinner.”

  Ollie chuckled. “Ah, I see your game, Ms Rose.”

  Anna gave a little shrug that clearly said what can I say? before sipping at her wine. “Besides,” she said, her eyes glinting over the rim at Ollie, “it must be lonely sitting in that shop all day, six days a week, with only a few customers to talk to.”

  “I’ll have you know it can get very busy in my meagre shop.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean…” Anna looked suddenly appalled.

  When Ollie shook her head and winked at her, Anna’s mouth turned into a round O. Once she’d recovered, she leaned back in her seat, her chin jutting out. “I’m right, though.” she said. “Admit it. You could use an assistant.

  “It’s not so bad,” Ollie said, shuttering her eyes. “I feel like I’m helping people. Not in the same capacity as I used to, but when someone comes in with a pattern they can’t quite work out, or a favourite jumper they want to repair, I’m there with my adequate knowledge. I usually manage to sort them out.”

  “Fine, I’ll let you off. It’s not like I have so much free time myself. I try so hard to spend time with my children that frivolous things like going out for dinner don’t take priority.”

  The wine in their glasses dwindled. As Ollie finished hers, Anna twirled her empty one between her fingers, Ollie’s heart sank. She’ll probably want to go home in a minute. “It’s been a lovely evening,” she prompted Anna. She couldn’t give her an easier opening than that if she wanted to end things there. She watched with a touch of sadness, though, when Anna took the bill from the waiter and flicked through a wad of notes in her purse. “It would be a shame to end it quite yet, though, don’t you think?”

  They split the bill in half and Ollie tucked an extra note underneath for the waiter.

  “So, what do you suggest?” Anna asked, dropping her purse back into her bag and straightening up in her seat.

  “We could find another place to sit?” Ollie suggested. “You could introduce me to another wine you like, and we can put the world to rights?”

  Anna’s face blossomed into a pleased smile, which gave Ollie that warm feeling in her stomach again.

  “Let’s do it.” Anna stood and put on the coat the waiter handed her. “Where’s good for solving the world’s problems?”

  She led Anna out into the dark night, and they stood close together for a minute, younger people milling around them, going from bar to bar. Where to suggest? Too intimate and it would be uncomfortable and too busy, and she wouldn’t be able to hear anything Anna said. Her chest felt a little tight, and she tapped her foot. She didn’t fancy taking Anna to the local; their evening had started out so decadently.

  Luckily the decision was taken from her by a young man with a handful of fliers. Anna took one and smiled at him before he walked off towards someone else.

  “Jazz night at The Cock and Duck,” Anna said. “Sounds perfect.”

  It took a long moment for Ollie’s heart to start beating again. “Oh, I’m…” She looked around, her foot continuing to tap. “I’m not sure you’d like it.”

  “Why not? I love jazz.”

  Anna honestly did seem clueless, and Ollie felt quite sorry for her. “It’s a gay bar.”

  “And?” Anna’s reply was immediate and without hesitation. Fitting her hand into Ollie’s elbow like she had from the taxi, she looked up at her with wide green eyes. “Is it sleazy?”

  “No.” There must be somewhere else that plays jazz in this bloody town.

  “Is it so loud we won’t be able to talk?”

  “Not on jazz night.”

  “No problem, then, is there?”

  Ollie let out a defeated sigh.

  The bar was quiet for once, the jazz night a little too niche for the regular customers, who were all about Matthew’s age and would rather be bopping along to cheesy dance music than sitting quietly with a small jazz ensemble playing in the corner. The clientele appeared to be more Ollie’s age. Phew. There were even a few straight couples dotted around.

  I bet the bar is regretting their decision to host a jazz band on a Saturday. They’ve lost their usual heavy drinkers.

  Anna’s face had relaxed, and her cheek rested against Ollie’s shoulder as they stood at the bar. The barman was busy taking payment for another customer’s order, so she turned properly to Ollie.

  “Good choice?” Ollie asked, one hand in the air to hail the bartender. She swiftly gave him a look that pleaded, Don’t you dare say a word.

  He smirked and looked between them but kept his mouth closed.

  “Very good choice.”

  They ordered two glasses of wine at Anna’s request and found a small booth with a low-hanging lampshade over the table.

  Ollie slid into one side. Surprising her, Anna slipped in beside her on the bench, before stuffing her handbag next to her hip.

  “Well, hello,” Ollie said with an amused lilt in her voice.

  They clinked their glasses together. “To setting the world to rights,” Anna said just before taking a big gulp.

  Ollie wondered why she always drank beer here when they clearly had such a good selection of wine. I’d happily give up beer if it meant spending more time with Anna.

  After putting her glass on the table, Anna rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out the small bottle of hand cream Ollie had given her weeks ago in the greasy-spoon café. She held her hand out.

  Ollie stared at the stern look Anna gave her.

  “Whatever you say, I know your hands are sore.”

  Her cheeks burning, Ollie tried to hide her hands under her legs, but Anna caught one of them before she succeeded.

  Lifting it to get a better look under the light of the low lamp, Anna squinted a little. “What have you been doing?”

  “Cleaning.” Ollie grimaced as Anna touched a particularly sore area at the base of her thumb.

  “What with, white spirit?” Anna’s voice was half-teasing, half-stern.

  “Did the bathrooms this afternoon. And the kitchen.”

  “So, bleach,” Anna said, and it wasn’t a question, but Ollie nodded anyway. “Do you not have washing-up gloves, Sergeant Williams?”

  “Was in a rush.”

  Anna uncapped the moisturiser, then smoothed some lotion onto her fingertips. “What are you?” she said archly, rubbing the moisturiser into the sore area on Ollie’s thumb and then in a wider circle across the rest of her hand.

  Despite wincing at how tender her skin was, she quickly discovered that Anna’s chiding teacher tone—and her one hand cupping Ollie’s and the other rubbing patterns into the muscles�
��made her lose her words. “An idiot?” she said eventually, very much feeling like one, and not simply because of her lack of personal protective equipment.

  That earned her a brief nod. Anna traced her fingertips from Ollie’s thumb into her palm, turning Ollie’s hand over. “What else?” she asked, her voice low, rubbing the moisturiser into Ollie’s palm and then into the fleshy bit where her fingers started.

  “A twat?” Ollie tried, watching their hands.

  Ollie’s moisturised hand tingled between Anna’s palms. Anna squeezed gently and then let go, reaching for Ollie’s other hand and holding it against her knee. She shifted a bit closer. “So what do you need to do?” She squirted some more moisturiser into her palm and began rubbing.

  “Wear gloves.” Please don’t stop. Was her voice trembling?

  Ollie’s right hand wasn’t as sore as the left, no red patches, so Anna simply slithered her palms against Ollie’s skin back and forth until Ollie strangely felt like she might fall asleep. The concoction of the alcohol and Anna’s touch was causing her thoughts to run sluggishly. She rested her head sideways against the cushioned back of the bench, the wood where the cushion ended cool on her cheek. They’d drunk too much wine, way more than Ollie had intended. Good job getting into Bethany’s good books. She now wished she’d drunk more of the table water Anna had ordered.

  Anna’s gaze seemed locked to their fingers now, and Ollie was surprised when Anna scissored their fingers loosely, palm to palm, the fingertips of her other hand snaking between the bones of her knuckles.

  Pausing for a while, Anna then lifted Ollie’s hand to her lips and pressing a kiss against her knuckles. They were so close. When Anna finally looked up into Ollie’s eyes, she blinked a few times.

  Ollie hadn’t realised how close she’d shifted towards her. Their hands were still locked together, and now so were their gazes—only a few inches between them.

  Jazz played softly around them. The yellow glow from the lamp was just bright enough to see by. Ollie studied Anna’s face, the lines by her mouth and eyes, the glitter of the earrings just hidden beneath her hair, the gold-green flecks in Anna’s irises as her pupils widened.