by Ally Sky
“If you’re going to stay angry all evening, I can just leave now,” I mumble.
“Damn it, Talia, what am I supposed to do with you?” He rolls his eyes and sighs. For a moment, he seems a little less angry.
“You can tell me how amazing I look.” I cock my head and smile mischievously.
“I’m still trying to figure out how you can walk gracefully in that dress and those heels.” He smiles slightly. I can relax. I’ve overcome the obstacle, quite easily I might add. My mood improves in a flash and my thoughts become flirtatious again
“This dress and these shoes?” I ask innocently and, without a second thought, I lift my leg under the table, find his shin, and then lift it slowly between his legs all the way up to his thighs.
“What are you doing?” he rebukes me with a smile and closes his legs swiftly. “Talia, stop that.” Ugh, why does he spoil all the fun?
I lower my leg just as a young waiter approaches our table.
“What would you like to drink?” He smiles at Ben, who doesn’t answer immediately. For a second, I’m afraid he’s debating whether or not to stay.
“Libertà Collazzi,” he answers eventually and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Merlot or Sauvignon?”
“Merlot.”
The waiter leaves the table and Ben looks at me seriously, without saying a word.
“Are you going to be like this the entire evening?” I murmur while the waiter pours us each a glass of red wine, puts the bottle on the table, and leaves.
“Like what?” Ben says grimly and takes a sip of wine.
“Like this. Unpleasant.” I look at him in frustration.
“I thought I was coming to a business meeting. I left my pleasant mood at home,” he grumbles again. Okay, where is this going?
“If I had known, I would have gone past and picked it up for you.”
“Talia, I’ve been waiting a long time for this meeting. And now, because of you, I have to reschedule. And that’s beside the fact that Gary thinks I forgot to let him know I’m out of town,” he reprimands me. I swallow hard. Okay, so I didn’t think the whole thing through and acted impulsively, as usual.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble an embarrassed and honest apology.
“You have to understand something—I take my business very seriously.”
“As opposed to me?”
“What do you mean ‘as opposed to you’?”
“As opposed to you not taking me seriously?”
“Who can take you seriously in that dress and those shoes?” he raises an eyebrow and smirks.
“Don’t you like them?” I stutter in panic. Danny and John said they were great.
“How can I not?”
“So then why can’t you take me seriously?” I’m confused. Is he trying to annoy me again? Because he’s heading in the right direction. He looks amused.
Is he laughing at me? Again?
“Talia, how can I concentrate on anything you have to say when you’re dressed like that?” He lowers his gaze and stares at me intently. My heart misses a beat. It’s totally illegal to cause my body to react in this way with only one look.
“Well, you can’t be cross with me either when I’m dressed this way.” I try—unsuccessfully—to smile and take a sip of my wine.
“No, I can’t be cross with you,” he agrees and sighs. Once again, I breathe a sigh of relief. At least he’s not furious anymore. But he’s very somber tonight. Well, what was I thinking, that my scheming would cause him to jump with joy?
“What did you want to talk to Gary about?” I’m not too sure this is the best line of conversation, seeing as I screwed up the meeting.
“About an exhibition in his gallery. I have a few questions.” He raises his hand dismissively, as if it’s not of any importance or interest. “Out of interest, when did you manage to cancel the meeting with him?” He takes a large sip of wine and looks for a waiter. He wants to order food. Shit! That issue again. I really didn’t think this through properly.
“I was at his gallery today.”
“What were you doing there?” He signals to one of the waiters and turns back to look at me.
“I dropped by to give him a present. His wife had a baby girl,” I answer. Ben lifts up the menu and blocks his face with it.
“What are you having?” he asks with a serious tone, then lowers the menu and stares at me. I look at him with troubled eyes. “You chose to be here and I’m not eating alone. So what are you having?” Come on, is he trying to punish me? I study the menu reluctantly and scan my options quickly.
Ugh, what am I supposed to eat?
“Have you decided?” He looks at me impatiently.
“I’ll have an English salad with herbs,” I say under my breath.
“What else?”
“Ben...”
“What else?” He’s adamant.
“A T-bone steak,” I grumble.
“So we’ll take the salad and one T-bone. Your smallest dish will be enough for the picky lady,” Ben says to the waiter. “And I’ll take the fillet with potatoes on the side.” We return the menus to the waiter. My mood is shitty. Now I’ll have to sit opposite Ben and eat like Miss Goody Two-Shoes, who’s getting what she deserves.
“So, young lady, what was so important, you had to cancel my meeting?” He takes a sip of wine and stares at me with his green eyes.
What was so important? Only those eyes that I’ve longed to see.
“Nothing,” I reply softly. I’m still considering what to do with my dish, which will be arriving shortly.
“Nothing? So you just decided to show up here for no apparent reason?”
“Aren’t you a good enough reason?” I mutter in embarrassment.
“Really, you just wanted to see me?” He smiles smugly and I feel my cheeks burning.
Wait a second. What’s going on here? I put on this stunning dress, wore my new high heels, and now I’m going to sit here like a shy little girl, mumbling and blushing? No, no, no. That’s definitely not going to happen. Somewhere deep inside me is my femme fatale, and I’d better find her. Quickly.
“I’m starting to regret that I even bothered.” I roll my eyes sarcastically.
“Regret what? That you got all dressed up for me and I’m not falling off my feet?” His smile is small and mean. Is he serious? Is that what he thinks? Well, he’s not so far off the mark.
“First of all, I got all dressed for me, so chill. And second, you’re sitting, so we can definitely assume you’re not falling off your feet. Let’s wait until you stand up, and then we’ll see.” I wave my hand dismissively.
“Me? Falling off my feet because of you?” He’s taken aback by my cool declaration.
“Who are you kidding? You’re crazy about me and you love my tricks, which is good because you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“Your confidence is awe-inspiring. Again, it’s a pity you don’t actually believe it.”
“Oh, I believe it. You have no idea what I have planned for you.” I grin as I think of my blog, filling up with ideas and offers.
“Why are you going through all this bother?” He grimaces.
Why do I bother? Really? Does he really have no idea what he does to me?
“I’m having a great time. Aren’t you?” I try to sound vague and uninterested.
“So it’s all just a game?” He furrows his perfect eyebrows.
“I don’t know what game you’re talking about. I thought we were friends.”
“Ah, the ‘friend’ thing,” he ponders aloud.
“What about the ‘friend’ thing?”
“I’m still not sure that it’s working.”
“What’s not to be sure about?” I roll my eyes. We kissed, and he did things to my body that excited and captivated me. And he doesn’t think that it’s working?
“I’m not sure we fit the definition. I doubt your brother would be happy to hear about us.” His expression, when he looks at me, is seriou
s.
“I’m not interested in my brother right now.”
“What are you interested in?”
“You,” I answer, without a damn filter.
Really, Talia, get a goddamn grip.
“I interest you?”
“Of course. You also annoy me.” I shrug, trying to seem indifferent to his charms.
The waiter arrives with plates filled with food, and my heart drops.
On my plate, there’s a huge T-bone and a green salad. I stare at it horrified and take another sip of wine. No way I’m going to eat that entire steak, not even half of it. I look at Ben miserably, but he’s busy with his plate, cutting himself a huge piece of fillet. I cut a tiny piece of steak, put it in my mouth, and chew it slowly. I can’t even taste it. I’m just concentrating on chewing. Eating in front of him. What a terrible idea! The thought of all this food in my stomach is awful. I swallow and take another sip of wine. I cut another small piece. Ben looks up from his plate inquiringly.
“I can’t eat with you looking at me,” I hiss in frustration.
“Why not?”
“Why not?” I sigh. Hasn’t he figured it out already? If I recall correctly, I told him everything on the matter a moment before I left him in a rage at the café.
“Because of your problems?” he asks seriously. For a second there, I think I can detect some concern in his voice. Okay, now I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way he’s concerned about me.
“No, because of the weather. Of course it’s because of—” I clam up abruptly.
“Then I won’t look. Eat.” He looks down to his plate of food and I take another bite of steak. Three pieces. Four pieces. Five pieces. That’s it. I’m not doing this anymore. I put my knife and fork down.
“Is that all?” He looks up at me, dissatisfied.
“Say thank you and shut up,” I hiss under my breath.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
“You’re angry.”
“I want to go home,” I mutter. If we leave now, there’s still a chance I can get some of the steak out of me.
“I know why you want to run away.” He fixes that intent stare on me again. He knows what I’m thinking. This evening is turning out to be total crap. I hate it when my plans don’t work out.
“If this is your definition of friends, I’ll pass,” I snap.
“I thought you liked it when I irritated you.” He tries to dredge up a smile.
“This isn’t irritating, it’s abuse.”
“I’m abusing you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you think?”
“Yes, because that’s what you’re doing. You kiss me, then regret it. You flirt with me and in the same breath tell me nothing’s going to happen between us. You’re the one who’s playing games with me,” I answer angrily.
“At least this way the truth comes out,” he replies.
“What truth?”
“Talia, stop bullshitting me. You don’t want to be my friend.”
“At this very moment you’re right.” I’m annoyed.
“Stop pretending. I know it’s not what you want.”
“I want to go home,” I say quietly. I want to go home before this conversation gets out of hand.
“Why?” he persists, but I just want to leave.
“What do you care why? Take me home and then you’ll be free to flirt with one of your other secret admirers,” I retort angrily, looking for a waiter to save me from this situation and bring the bill.
“What are you talking about?” He gives a little chuckle.
What am I talking about? I’m talking about his group of fans.
“I know what you do. What am I? Another conquest to add to your little black book?”
“I don’t carry a little black book. Sorry to disappoint you.” He’s amused.
“I’m sure you have a thousand other girls like me.”
“Like you?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Like me, who you piss off all the time.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint, once again, but it’s only you I enjoy pissing off.”
“You’re a real asshole.”
“Stop saying that. I’m not an asshole. You’re the one acting like a little girl, refusing to talk to me.”
I’m refusing to talk to him? I told him all those things about me and he hasn’t told me a thing about himself!
“You’ve got some cheek, you know?” I continue irately. I’ve had enough of this evening. “I’m going home.”
“You’re running off again,” he says quietly, in a tone I don’t recognize.
“I’m not running off. I’m going outside to catch a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take you home, before you make a scene, which you’re very good at making.” His smile is mean, really mean, and mocking. At this very moment I actually hate him.
“I can take a cab,” I try to insist, but the way he stares at me keeps me glued to my chair.
“I’m taking you home and don’t argue. Please.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes in frustration. Now I’ll have to sit with him in the car all the way home. Ugh, will this evening never end?
Ben asks for the bill and pays it quickly. I surge to my feet angrily and, I swear, my stomach looks bloated from all the food I’ve consumed. I don’t wait for him as I make my way through the crowded chairs in the restaurant and outside into the cold, early June evening.
“What’s the matter with you?” Ben comes out right behind me, shaking his head. “When are you going to learn to leave the house with a coat?” He starts taking off his jacket, but I stop him.
“Don’t do me any favors,” I hiss, without looking at him.
“Don’t be so stubborn,” he tries to persuade me, but I am stubborn.
“Where’s your car?”
“Around the corner.” He starts to walk and I try to keep up with him in my heels. He turns the corner and takes his keys out of his pocket to open the car with the remote. Without waiting for him to open the door for me, I get in, close it, and fasten my seatbelt. He gets in and fastens his seatbelt.
“What do you feel like listening to?” he asks and changes songs on his fancy stereo.
“Nothing,” I say petulantly. Nothing, I just want him to take me home right away.
“Okay,” he replies quietly, chooses a song and, right away, I recognize Alanis Morissette’s ‘Uninvited’.
Why that song? I stare out the window. A terrible choking feeling envelops me with each passing note. Goddammit...
Large, salty tears choke me up and pour down my cheeks, silently and involuntarily. How embarrassing! I make a fist, my nails digging into my flesh. I try unsuccessfully to silence my crying and sniffling. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ben taking out a tissue and passing it to me, without looking my way. I take the tissue and wipe my tears, which don’t stop falling.
“Talia, I never meant—” I can hear the confusion and concern in his voice.
“Take me home,” I cut him off, sobbing with terrible embarrassment, but I can’t help myself. This evening certainly didn’t go as planned. What good were the dress and heels if I’m sitting here, weeping my heart out miserably?
The car glides silently through the narrow streets. Ben is upset and confused and keeps giving me panicked looks. I stare out the window. There’s no way I can stop the crying. When we stop outside the house I get out of the car quickly and close the door behind me. I run down the driveway, and enter the house, and fall apart on my bedroom floor.
At eleven p.m. I sit up in bed. For the past few hours I’ve been lying here, cuddled up in my blanket and crying. I’m grateful Danny and John weren’t in the living room and didn’t see me like this. I have no idea what excuse I could have given them this time.
I finally get up and slip into the shower. The house is dark and silent. I remove my makeup and stand under the water. I let it wash over me for a long time, trying to stem t
he tears that insist on pouring down. What the hell happened this evening? I was supposed to go there, flirt with him, and make him laugh until he couldn’t resist me. Instead, I was tortured and forced to eat in front of him and squirm. And that mortifying display of tears in the car...I can’t believe myself. What was I thinking? He probably thinks—no, he’s probably convinced—I’m a total nutcase. He wanted mischievous and fun and got screwed-up and crazy. And now I’ve ruined it all.
I get out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. Then I go into my bedroom and wear a large shirt and my favorite pair of sweatpants. I lie down on my bed and pull the laptop off the dresser. I’m just going to put on some music, lie here, and never go outside again. I can’t handle it, not the shame, or his tendency to irritate and hurt me. I can’t handle how much I miss him either.
My Facebook page is open. When did I leave it open? It must have been this morning. I forgot to log out. I have one new message. I open it and read, my eyes burning.
Ben Storm: Please let me know you’re okay. I don’t want to worry.
What the hell does he care?
Talia Blum: I’m fine. Good night.
Excellent. Don’t start with the explanations. He doesn’t need to know that you are far from okay.
Ben Storm: Really?
Talia Blum: Really. Alanis apologized and we’re friends again.
Why does he insist on talking? What good will come out of it?
Ben Storm: I’m glad (for Alanis). Not so much for me.
Talia Blum: Why aren’t you sleeping?
Ben Storm: Work.
Talia Blum: Tell me you’re not at the office!
Ben Storm: Don’t exaggerate. I can work from home on this gadget called a laptop; you may have heard of it.
Cute. He immediately becomes cute.
Talia Blum: Why work in bed? Don’t you have a life?
Ben Storm: I work from the living room.
Talia Blum: Oh.
