Let Me Be Your First (Music and Letters #1)

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  Ben: It usually happens when you’re on the tram in rush hour. Tell me your likes and dislikes.

  Me: I like having my hair played with. It sends me to sleep. Relaxes me. My mum used to lie in bed with me when I had trouble falling off to sleep as a child. She hasn’t done it in such a long time.

  Ben: Hold on. I’m just writing this down so I don’t forget…

  Me: Are you planning on playing with my hair when I can’t sleep?

  Ben: Thinking about it!

  Me: Tell me one thing about yourself that no one else knows. Something only I will ever know. Something only I get to keep.

  I could see the bubble and dots indicating that he was typing out his response. It disappeared for a minute, and I held my breath for just as long. He was always so measured in his responses. I could sense that he thought through every word, every comma, and every full stop, hesitant as he gathered himself to say exactly the right thing.

  Ben: No one else knows that I’m falling in love with the words of someone I haven’t even met…

  Another bubble. Another minute. More dots.

  Ben: I don’t understand how I can feel this way about someone I haven’t touched, kissed or held in my arms. So I don’t tell anyone, but I’ve just told you…

  Another bubble. Another minute. More dots.

  Ben: Have I scared you away?

  Me: No

  Ben: Good

  Me: Meet me on Saturday?

  Ben: I can’t think of anything I would rather do!

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The city was heaving with life as I darted through the streets that would always represent home to me. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The journey to my favourite part of the city was familiar and dependable. I had walked it a thousand times before, smelled the sweet perfume of the flower stalls, listened to the thumping music from bars trying to tempt people to forget their troubles until the early morning.

  The walk today was different. The sights and smells were the same, but everything else was changing.

  I waited for Ben with anxiety and excitement outside one of the quieter bars next to a street vendor with a makeshift stall made out of an old decorating table with a purple tablecloth draped on top. He was selling toys that wouldn’t last the journey home. As he noticed me, he beckoned me to come closer with his finger. I shook my head and looked down to the cobbled ground, embarrassed at the unwanted attention. My blushes only encouraged him. He circled me, laughing and smiling as he surrounded me with giant rainbow bubbles from a plastic gadget. Children squealed and giggled as I shyly turned and twirled to a small ripple of applause from the bystanders and people-watchers.

  I stopped still, arms still twirling above my head, when my eyes were drawn to a man chuckling from across the expansive plaza of shops and restaurants.

  As he approached, I instantly knew it was him. I was struck by his shy smile. I could sense he was nervous, which encouraged me to take a calming, deep breath. I smiled and stepped towards him, laughing nervously and feeling far removed from how I would normally feel in situations where nerves got the better of me. Instead of turning to run in the other direction, I wanted to stay in this moment and forget the chaos in my head.

  ‘Hi, I’m Ben, but you know that, don’t you?’ he said, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Oh God, this is so typical of me. I’m messing up already.’

  He looked down and started kicking his feet against the gravel on the ground. He was carrying a leather messenger bag, and I noticed him nervously pulling the strap up and down his shoulder. I studied him as he took a deep breath and finally raised his eyes to mine. They were a beautiful mix of brown and green. They were warm and inviting. I knew just by looking into them that I was safe.

  I had promised Abi that I would meet Ben in broad daylight; a crowded place with plenty of escape routes in case I had unwittingly arranged to meet a psychopath who kept the body of his dead mother in the bath. I was shocked when she didn’t order me to keep pepper spray and a taser gun in my bag—just in case.

  ‘So, can we start again?’ he asked. ‘I’m Ben. It’s great to see you twirling with the bubbles.’ He smiled and rubbed his hand through his dark hair. ‘I thought you might not turn up.’

  I laughed and reassured him that I would never have done that to him. I knew the heavy feeling of being let down, and how it hurt the heart like nothing else.

  We walked slowly, side by side, occasionally glancing at each other, smiling and then dropping our eyes to the ground. A mild panic bubbled in my chest when I found myself walking towards the front of the bar where I had met Luke on our second date— the night he foretold our future—the night he warned me that he would break my heart.

  Although memories flooded my mind, I wanted to move forward from the hurt. I felt that eating here with Ben would cleanse the demons of the past.

  The bar was full despite it being lunchtime. It was a quirky place with Beatles wallpaper and funny quotes framed in gilded. We made our way through to the lounge area where there were high-backed chairs and low wooden tables. My favourite aspect of the quirkiness was the shelves filled with well thumbed, second-hand books yellowing at the edges, all with the same dusty smell that only a book lover would appreciate.

  I quickly realised we were both as indecisive as each other, slowly dancing around where we wanted to sit, what we wanted to drink, and the food we were going to order. He was still very nervous, and it showed. But I was gaining more confidence the more I looked at his devastatingly handsome face. He really was beautiful—tall and dark with the most perfect profile I had ever laid eyes on. It was so perfect I wanted to paint it and exhibit the fruits of my labour in a gallery dedicated to male perfection. His jaw was dusted with just the right amount of stubble—when it comes to facial hair, there is a fine line between sexy and rugged, and overgrown and neglected—Ben had hit the jackpot. Sexy and rugged were etched on the back of his skull. It made me curious as to why he’d needed to use a dating website.

  My eyes followed the curve of his black t-shirt along his long neck, which was itching to be licked. His t-shirt allowed a glimpse of dark chest hair. I had to sit on my hands to stop them from reaching over. He was exactly the type of man I was attracted to before fucknugget.

  Ben was the polar opposite of Luke. This made me smile.

  ‘You look beautiful when you smile,’ he said coolly, his tone betraying his body language. I could feel myself burning up, a red hue quickly consuming my cheeks. Noticing my unease, Ben looked down at his drink and circled the ice cubes, making them clink inside the glass. His look crushed me. Although I knew very little about him, I knew he had been through heartache just by that look. Someone had hurt him. From the haphazard way he asked me questions about myself, he was obviously very shy and lacking in confidence.

  ‘So, why did you join the dating site?’ he asked as he tapped the slice of lemon in his drink, causing it to bob up and down in its own nervous bounce.

  ‘I didn’t. My friends did.’ I giggled, sarcastically raising my eyebrow.

  ‘Oh yeah, I remember now. Your friends must really love you. Or really hate you.’

  ‘They mean well.’

  ‘So why did your friends sign you up to a dating website?’

  During our evening chats, we had skirted around the issue of previous partners and hadn’t really delved into our dating past. Part of me wanted to keep it all neatly hidden, but another part wanted to get it all out in the open and lay it bare.

  ‘It’s complicated. I was with someone but we broke up a few months ago. My friends were sick of me feeling sorry for myself so…here I am.’

  ‘Why did you break up, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  His smile was going to get me in serious trouble.

  ‘Ah, well. Again, that’s complicated. He was a commitment-phobe.’ I stirred the straw in my Coke, giving me an excuse not to look for his reaction.

  ‘He didn’t want to commit to you? The guy sounds lik
e a prize prick.’

  ‘He’s a damaged prick,’ I replied slightly too urgently.

  ‘Oh no. Damaged pricks are the worst kind. Or so I’ve been told. Not that I’ve been with many damaged pricks. Well, no pricks of any kind, just to clear that up.’ He shook his head and laughed, obviously embarrassed.

  I looked away from Ben’s smile. Abi would have been proud of my damaged prick assessment. Six weeks ago, he would have just been damaged. Progress.

  ‘How long were you together?’

  ‘Only six months,’ I said as the memories took hold.

  ‘Only?’ he said, making me unsure if he thought six months was good going or far too short to have made any kind of lasting impression.

  ‘We didn’t last long.’

  ‘Was that because he was a damaged prick?’

  ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head.’

  I was heading into awkward topics of conversation on a first date with a man so gorgeous I could barely make eye contact. Steering the conversation towards Ben, I asked, ‘What about you? What made you join the website?’

  ‘Me? Oh God. Well, I feel like I’ve been single for forever. I needed to get back in the race.’ He averted his eyes and looked down at the table, fiddling with a cardboard drinks coaster, awkwardly banging the curled edges on the wooden table in an anxious rhythm.

  ‘Is that all I’m going to get from you?’ I asked, narrowing my eyes to try to get him to meet my gaze.

  ‘My love life has been a disaster. It’s really not even worth talking about. My last date stood me up. Talk about humiliation with a capital H. What made it even worse was that I agreed to meet her at the cinema to watch some chick flick I had zero interest in when the new Star Wars film had just opened. I would have given my right arm to see it, but figured it was more gentlemanly to let her chose the film. Anyway, I ended up nursing a bag of popcorn by myself in the back row.’ He raised his finger as if making a very important point. ‘If you look on the bright side, I may have been stood up, but at least I got to see Star Wars.’

  Why would anyone want to pass on a date with Ben? He was funny, sweet, and as adorable as puppies with pink bows tied around their necks.

  ‘I haven’t really put myself out there. I’ve been so busy with my studies and getting a job.’ His statement sounded oddly familiar. He was reciting my mantra; repeating my go-to phrases.

  ‘How long have you been single?’ he asked.

  ‘We broke up nearly four months ago.’

  ‘He hurt you, didn’t he?’ he said softly.

  ‘I told you; it’s complicated.’ I cringed. I didn’t want to explain any further. I understood his awkwardness now that the tables were turned. ‘He was my first serious boyfriend,’ I murmured, making an on the spot decision to be honest, completely myself, and if he didn’t like it, he could walk away now and save me the heartache.

  ‘Your first?’ he asked sceptically.

  ‘My only.’

  ‘Wow,’ he said, obviously shocked at my confession.

  There it was. My lack of experience was out there in the open, free to be discussed and dissected.

  We talked for most of the afternoon. It was so easy. I explained that I had been a closed book for twenty-three years and had allowed Luke to open the book and read the first chapter. He liked my analogy. He said it appealed to his inner writer and inner romantic.

  I felt my whole body throb when he told me slightly anxiously that we could start writing new chapters together.

  He said I should tell him everything the damaged prick had done to hurt me so that he knew how to avoid his mistakes. I asked him to be patient, explaining that my defences had built up and I was scared of heartbreak. I warned him that the people I loved the most in my life, mostly my mum, worried about me and wanted the best for me, and how they would chase him with a big stick if he hurt me. I was rewarded with a deep laugh.

  I wanted to hear that laugh again.

  ‘I should thank him, really,’ Ben said as he returned from picking a book off the shelf.

  ‘Why?’ I choked out the first hit of liquid and wiped my nose, hoping to all that was holy that he hadn’t seen it dribble down my left nostril.

  ‘I should thank him because he let you go. And now I can appreciate what he didn’t,’ he replied while flicking through a very worn looking copy of Roald Dahl’s James and the Giant Peach. My heart started to flutter at his choice. My childhood obsession and writing idol was now in his hands.

  Fuck.

  I needed a break from the intensity of the situation, so I excused myself from the table to go to the ladies’ room.

  I walked to the back of the bar, skimming chairs and avoiding tables. As I climbed the large oak staircase, I turned back and saw that the shy man who had initially shaken with nerves was intensely watching my arse with the smallest, sexiest grin on his face.

  For the first time in a while, I felt sexy, wanted—even adored—by this quiet, beautiful man with the perfect profile.

  I returned to the table with a grin I struggled to tame. Ben watched as I walked back. His heated stare made me feel like no one else in the bar existed to him but me. He was still nervous. His eyes regularly dropped to the floor, but I found this simple gesture sinfully sexy. And, despite battling with my guilt, I still didn’t want to run. I wanted to stay.

  ‘I was going to bring you flowers but thought you might freak if you saw me hiding behind an ostentatious bouquet of roses, so I got you these instead.’

  He handed me a box of chocolates wrapped in silver paper secured with a black ribbon while he shyly looked to the floor.

  ‘You talk about chocolate a lot, so I thought I couldn’t really mess up if I got you these. You might think it’s a bit too soon, but I’d be a dick if I didn’t bring you something,’ he said as he cocked his head to the side and smiled.

  His puppy dog eyes were killing me.

  Images, sounds, and thoughts filled my head. I was wrestling with them but they overtook me, slamming me to the mat as I thought back to Luke and the too soon to buy me a birthday present chapter of our failed relationship.

  As Ben stood before me, handing me chocolates on our first date, I felt overwhelmed.

  ‘You did well. Thanks,’ I replied, trying to hide my conflicting emotions.

  ‘Can I give you my mobile number? I’d really like to text you. Maybe even speak on the phone.’

  ‘Yes, that would be great.’

  ‘I’d better go. I don’t want to but—’

  He stopped mid sentence and wrapped his hands around the strap of his bag, which was slung across his body and showcasing the contour of his chest. He started fiddling with it again, watching me curiously before he braved taking my hand in his.

  He waited for permission to make the next move. I gave it to him by moving my increasingly aroused body a step closer. His breath felt warm, but his hands were cold and damp through nerves. As he pulled me into his hard chest, my hands naturally found his bicep, settling there on that delicious space was exactly where they were meant to be.

  My body relaxed into his when he cupped my face with both hands, his fingers moving into my hair and finding their place at the back of my head, making my body shudder and vibrate. His lips met mine softly and gently as he coaxed my mouth open. From the small moan that escaped his throat, I knew he wanted the kiss to be so much more. Tentatively, he kissed my bottom lip, the soft gesture causing a deep throb.

  I could feel him smiling against my mouth. ‘I’m so glad you let me kiss you.’

  ‘I’m so glad you kissed me,’ I laughed, dragging my hand up his neck to nestle my fingers behind his ear.

  We were definitely kissing together. Simultaneously. At the same time. His laugh made me want to straddle him and thrust my lady parts into his groin. It felt so good. Too good.

  ‘I’ll be in touch, pretty eyes,’ he said as he reluctantly took his arms from around my waist.

  Colour and noise blended into one as I watched
him walk away. He turned around every few steps to smile and offer a shy wave. He must have noticed that I hadn’t moved an inch since our kiss. Did he feel the same pang of loss when he walked away as I did? It was ridiculous for me to immediately miss someone who had been holding and kissing me not more than one minute ago. In that moment, I knew I had never felt this strongly about anyone before. I was frightened and euphoric at the same time.

  When he turned out of sight, I tried to get my bearings and clear the fog in my head. I felt like each member of the England rugby team had taken it in turns to tackle me. I couldn’t even remember where I had parked my car.

  As the chill of the late spring afternoon hit my bones, I fastened the buttons of my wool jacket. My faithful favourite. I had seen it in the window of a shop I frequented most Saturday afternoons. It had a unique peplum edging that sat just above the curve of my behind. It made me feel good about myself the instant I tried it on. My credit card burst into flames at the purchase, but it was worth it, particularly today when I noticed Ben admiring the view of my arse.

  The bustle of the city had calmed and the street vendors and buskers were packing up for the day. Saturday night revellers were starting to congregate at the bars of the plaza. I laughed as a hen party roared through town with the bride-to-be wearing a veil and holding an inflatable penis. Her friends were wearing bright pink t-shirts with the words I’m not tying the knot. Buy me a shot! emblazoned in black writing across their chests.

  That’s when I saw him.

  Luke was sitting in the window of a restaurant with a wide-eyed look of what the fuck? across his face. He had unwittingly just had a front row seat to my heavenly first kiss with Ben. He gave me an awkward smile and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The redhead with the fantastic legs was sitting opposite him, seemingly oblivious to our unspoken connection. I couldn’t tell if his what the fuck? expression was jealously, resentment, or regret. I didn’t want to analyse, so I broke our gaze and walked away, leaving him peering at me out of the window.

  As I moved down the streets of the city, I held my hands over my ears as the Council House clock chimed four times and a roar of sirens chased down the road. The sky was a dark and dangerous grey. Clouds threatened to burst open and soak me at any moment. I ran with my bag held over my head, which was stupid as I could barely fit my loose change in it, let alone use it as a substitute for an umbrella.