by A. L. Brooks
They met again in the living room around forty minutes later. Megan had lectured herself to remember to compliment Lena on what she was wearing, give her the flowers, help her into her coat—all the things she’d thought would make Lena realise how special she was. And she would do all those things in a minute, once she’d taken the time to appreciate the vision that stood before her.
Lena was wearing a simple pair of black dress trousers, pleated in the front with wide legs that flared slightly where the material met the tops of her ankle boots. The silky-looking shirt she wore was a vivid turquoise blue, shot through with random strands of silver thread that caught the light in multiple ways as Lena moved. It was fitted, not loose, and it showed off every amazing curve. The top two buttons were undone to reveal the most tantalising V of brown skin at Lena’s chest. Her hair was pinned up in a fancy knot, and she wore simple gold hoop earrings as her only jewellery.
“You look stunning,” Megan whispered.
Lena ducked her head, and Megan watched as a blush spread across her cheeks. She’d seen Lena blush many times before now, but this one tugged at something deep inside her, somewhere way down low.
“Thank you,” Lena murmured, before raising her head again. “So do you.”
Megan smiled. “Thanks.” She’d stopped short of a full suit, but the charcoal grey trousers with the white shirt and open black waistcoat was one of her smarter outfits. She’d tied her hair back in a simple ponytail but left a couple of loose strands to frame her face. At Jen’s suggestion, she’d touched her eyes up with some make-up—nothing too heavy, just some eye liner and mascara to bring out the blue.
She stepped forward and swept the small bunch of flowers up from the kitchen counter. “These are for you,” she said, extending her arm to hold them out to Lena.
Lena stepped back rapidly. “Oh,” she said, her eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t take them. I’m allergic to most flowers.”
Megan’s stomach dropped. Shit. She quickly pulled back her arm and placed the flowers back on the counter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“No, don’t! You didn’t know.” Lena smiled. “But I do appreciate the gesture.”
They left the flat a couple of minutes later, Megan going ahead of Lena so that she could quickly deposit the flowers with a shocked Dorothy. After Megan explained the situation to their elderly neighbour, which she managed with only a few stutters and pauses, Dorothy gave Megan a beatific smile.
“Bless you, child. I hope you both have a lovely evening.”
“Thanks,” Megan said, shuffling on the spot. “We will.”
The brasserie she’d chosen was cosy but not overly intimate. Megan wanted them to be able to talk without too many other people around, but at the same time she hadn’t wanted to pick the most romantic place on the street for fear of putting too much pressure on both of them. They’d chatted a little about work on their way to the restaurant, and although it felt awkward in places, Megan was determined to put her nerves aside once they sat down. The table was small and covered with a simple white cloth. The smells coming from the kitchen area were mouth-watering, and there was a gentle hum of conversation around them from the few other patrons who’d braved this cold evening for a meal out.
Megan rubbed her hands together to bring some life back into them. “Can’t believe I forgot my gloves,” she said, with a rueful grin.
Lena smiled. “We could have gone back.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’m a big girl.”
Lena looked uncomfortable at the comment.
“Hey,” Megan said softly, “I’m not bringing myself down saying that, if that’s what you’re thinking. This isn’t the return of Lumpy.” She smiled in relief when Lena rolled her eyes and offered a smile of her own.
“Okay. Point taken. I suppose I am still a bit…tender from that incident. I still feel guilty for snapping at your dad.”
“Don’t, honestly. He was totally cool with it, like he said.”
Lena nodded slowly. “All right, I’ll believe you.”
They picked up their menus and perused them in silence for a while.
“What’s grabbing you?” Megan asked, looking over the top of her menu at the gorgeous woman on the opposite side of the table. In the low light of the restaurant, Lena looked even more beautiful, if that was possible.
“The chicken, I think,” Lena murmured, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in a gesture she more than likely didn’t intend to be sexy but which set off a tingling all over Megan’s body anyway.
Megan cleared her throat. “Um, yeah, I looked at that. But I think I might have the lamb.”
They placed their orders with the waitress and sipped from their water glasses. Megan had declined an alcoholic drink, wanting to keep her wits about her despite the additional relaxation the wine might have given her. But equally, Lena didn’t drink at all, so Megan didn’t feel right being the only one imbibing.
“So,” Lena said. “How was your New Year party? I haven’t even seen you long enough to ask about that.”
Megan chuckled. “I know, it’s been such a mad two weeks. Well, it was awesome, actually.”
She filled in Lena on some of the details of the fun that was had, and in return Lena told her all about her trip home to visit Madhu.
When the food arrived, Megan saw Lena’s gaze drift over the lamb dish.
“Would you like to try some?” Megan asked. “Before I get stuck in?”
Lena blushed. “Thank you, I’d love to.”
Megan was transfixed by Lena’s concentration as she sampled the dish. Lena was quite the foodie, and an excellent cook, and she clearly loved to learn about new flavour combinations. Watching her roll that mouthful of food around while she took in all its nuances was strangely erotic. Megan shifted in her chair.
“That’s lovely,” Lena said eventually, once she’d swallowed. “The meat is very tender and they’ve got the blend of Moroccan herbs and spices perfect.”
Megan could only nod; she could listen to Lena talk about food all night.
Lena blinked a couple of times, her expression thoughtful. “Would you like to try the chicken?”
Megan nodded and smiled, reaching across to cut a morsel of the meat and pop it onto her fork and into her mouth. It was wonderful, and she moaned in appreciation. Lena blushed deeper.
They talked easily over their food and took their time eating. Passing on dessert at the end of the meal, they each ordered some mint tea. It was unspoken, but it seemed as if neither of them wanted the evening to end.
“Is this… It’s been lovely, hasn’t it?” Megan asked.
Lena smiled. “It has. Definitely.”
“So, how would you feel about doing it again?”
“I would feel very positively about that.” Lena’s cheeky grin took Megan’s breath away. Seeing Lena relax so much in front of her was intoxicating.
“You…you’re such a different person than when you first moved in,” Megan said. “Now that I know you better, I see so many fun parts of you.”
Lena’s fingers played with the collar of her shirt, and she smiled shyly. “I feel very relaxed around you. I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts but now…” She looked away for a moment. “Now I feel comfortable around you. I…trust you. Trust you not to play me around.”
“I wouldn’t,” Megan said fervently. “I really like spending time with you, laughing with you, talking with you. I-I’d really like to see what we could make of this.”
Lena said nothing, but her smile and gentle nod told Megan everything she needed to know.
They finished their tea in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Small smiles and lingering looks made it an intense experience, and Megan had goose bumps up the length of both arms by the time the waitress placed the bill on the table in front of her. Megan had already
made it clear to Lena when they’d planned the date that she was paying. She had done the asking, after all, and besides, she wanted to treat Lena. She checked the total, noted that it already included the tip, then reached into her coat for her wallet.
Which wasn’t there.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then plunged both hands into each pocket to check again. Nope. Nothing. Even though she knew it was pointless, because she could feel they were empty, she checked the pockets on her trousers.
Nothing.
Oh, holy shit.
“Are you okay?” Lena asked, looking puzzled.
Megan dared to meet her gaze. “Er, well, no. Not really.” She took a deep breath. “I left my wallet on the kitchen counter. After the fu—mix up with the flowers, I forgot to pick it up again.” She hung her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Lena.”
There was nothing but silence from across the table. When Megan raised her head again, Lena was glaring at her.
“I left my bag at home. You were so adamant about paying that I have nothing with me either,” she said in tones so icy that Megan’s stomach turned over the lamb she’d just ingested.
And it had all been going so well.
“Um, okay. God, I’m so sorry.”
Lena folded her arms across her chest and exhaled loudly. “Right. Well, one of us will have to go home and get some money, won’t we?”
“I’ll go.” Megan jumped up. “You stay here. Order some more tea, if you want. I’ll explain to the waitress and be back as quick as I can, okay?”
Lena nodded, and Megan’s insides churned even more. Trust her to fuck this up good and proper.
She found the waitress and told her what had happened. “I swear, I only live about ten minutes’ walk away, so I’ll be back in twenty, okay? My friend is staying so that you know this isn’t some kind of scam. Please can you bring her another mint tea?”
The waitress frowned. “Let me check with my manager.”
Megan groaned. Come on, people, the longer this goes on the more Lena is going to stew. The manager appeared, and Megan told her sorry tale all over again. Thankfully he agreed to her plan, and soon she was half walking, half trotting up the High Street back to their flat.
The wallet was exactly where she’d left it, looking benign and innocent—how dare it—and she snatched it up before jogging back down the communal stairs and remembering at the last second not to slam the door on her way out. The last thing she needed to top this evening off was a rant from Dorothy.
When she rushed back into the restaurant, more than a few heads turned in her direction. As she looked at their table and Lena, her insides turned to jelly. Lena looked embarrassed, and she wouldn’t meet Megan’s eyes. A spark of annoyance flared in Megan—it wasn’t like she’d done this on purpose. It was an innocent mistake, and Lena needed to accept that sooner rather than later.
Megan waved at the waitress and handed over her credit card. “Please,” she begged, “as quick as you can.”
The waitress nodded, then gestured Megan over to the card machine where it sat on a counter.
“Look,” she said, her voice low, “I think you ought to know, your friend had something that looked like an anxiety attack while you were out. She seems better now, but she was quite upset for a little while.”
“Oh, God.” Megan glanced back at Lena, whose hands were twisting her napkin into a ball. “Damn. Thanks for telling me.”
“No worries.” The waitress peeled off Megan’s receipt and handed it and the card over. “Sorry to have been so suspicious earlier. We’ve had a few people leave without paying by using the ‘lost wallet’ excuse so we’re a little jumpy.”
“No, it’s cool, I get it. Thanks again.”
Megan turned, took a deep breath and walked over to their table. Lena was standing and already pulling on her coat.
“Done?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes,” Megan said. “Look, it’s not like I did this deliberately—”
“I know.” Lena’s tone was curt, then she exhaled. “Can we please just go?” Her words were so plaintive they tugged at Megan’s heart.
She led Lena out of the restaurant to the cold street. “Are you okay? The waitress said—”
“I’m fine. Please, can we go home?” Lena sounded on the verge of tears, and Megan longed to be able to wave a magic wand and have the last half hour never happen.
They walked home in silence, their pace quick, both of them with heads down against the cold, hands shoved in pockets. Lena pushed open the front gate, and Megan’s heart sank again. Busy putting her rubbish in one of the wheelie bins was Dorothy. She looked up as Lena and Megan walked up the path.
“Ah, good evening,” she said pleasantly. “How was your meal?”
In a voice that quivered, Lena said, “Hi, Dorothy,” then carried on walking past her. “We had a lovely time, thank you.” She stepped into the house.
Dorothy’s eyes blinked comically behind her large spectacles, then she turned her attention to Megan, her eyebrows raised in question.
“It… We…” Megan sighed. “I screwed up, Dorothy.”
Dorothy motioned for Megan to follow her back into the house. She shut the door behind them just in time to hear a thump. They looked up to see Lena on her hands and knees halfway up the staircase. It became rapidly apparent that in her rush to get back up to the flat—and away from Megan, presumably—she’d caught her boot in the dust sheets covering the stairs and had tripped forwards.
“Argh!” she cried, hauling herself upright again. Then she burst into tears. She didn’t look back as she climbed up the rest of the stairs.
“Oh, dear,” Dorothy said.
“I know,” Megan replied sadly.
“What happened, child?”
Bizarrely, it didn’t feel odd telling Dorothy. She gave her the shortened version, feeling that Dorothy probably didn’t need to know too many details about the date aspect of the evening. But when she recounted the part about leaving her wallet behind, and Lena’s upset state as a result, Dorothy simply patted her arm.
“She will come around, don’t you worry. Lena doesn’t do well with embarrassment.”
“I didn’t realise you two knew each other that well.”
Dorothy shrugged. “We are not close, that is true. But when that woman hurt Lena the way she did, there were some fearful rows that spilled out into the hallway. I heard some things, enough to know what Chris had done and how it made Lena feel.”
Megan stared at the older woman in amazement. “You’re full of surprises, Dorothy, you know?”
Dorothy smiled warmly. “Let her be, child. For a while. All will be well, trust me.” And with that, she patted Megan’s arm again, and walked back to her own flat.
Chapter 22
Lena paced the living room floor in front of the TV, her mind churning.
Her embarrassment at falling apart in the restaurant, then tripping up the stairs in front of Dorothy, had drained her by the time she’d yanked her coat and boots off and walked through to her bedroom. When she’d sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze had fallen on the floppy-eared bunny slippers, and suddenly the only image that played in her mind was of Megan looking hurt and upset as Lena brushed her away once they could finally leave the restaurant.
Lena wiped at her teary eyes and took a few deep breaths. Megan had paid for the meal, and Lena hadn’t even had the courtesy to thank her. Megan had made a simple mistake in forgetting her wallet, and Lena had treated her appallingly. She knew why. Every memory of being teased and bullied at school for being so different, for being embarrassed by her peers all through her school years, had risen up in those relatively few minutes where a few patrons of the restaurant had noticed her panic attack.
Lena hated being stared at, pointed at, and made fun of. All her life she’
d suffered at the cruel tongues of people who couldn’t accept her OCD tendencies for what they were—simply a part of Lena’s personality that hurt no one and made her feel comforted in her world. To sit all alone, feeling embarrassed about the situation, wondering just how long she’d be there, stuck out like a sore thumb, until Megan returned, had brought on all her old fears of being the item of ridicule. It cut even deeper after that wonderful evening they’d shared.
All those people, looking on as she’d gripped the table and rocked in her chair. The waitress attempting to come over and talk to her before Lena had waved her off. All of them, staring. All those faces with their eyes wide and—
She raised her head as sudden, blinding understanding jumped into the front of her brain.
They hadn’t been staring at her in amusement or about to mock her.
They’d been staring in concern.
She rolled that thought around her mind for a few moments. She hadn’t been laughed at or ridiculed. Everyone who had noticed what was going on was only worried for her. They probably weren’t even aware of the fact that Megan had left. All they could see was a young woman in distress and they had…cared.
She shook her head; she could see it now, but was it too late to fix the damage she’d done to her and Megan’s fledgling relationship? Right up until the wallet incident, and Lena’s overreaction to it, the evening had been something special. Megan had been attentive, and funny, and displayed a level of intelligence that Lena had always thought was lurking below her rough exterior. The food had been delicious, and as they’d sipped their tea at the end of the meal, Lena’s chest had swelled with happiness. Finally something was going right, something was setting her world on fire in all the right ways.
And then she’d been a complete…bitch—her mind stumbled on the word, but she knew it was the appropriate one—to Megan and ruined it all.
She groaned. She needed to apologise to Megan, and fast.
Head down, she stared at her slippers once more and her heart tugged as she remembered Megan giving them to her on Christmas morning. She stopped pacing, and stared at the front door, willing Megan to walk through it so that she could put this right.
