A Springful of Winters

by Dawn Sister

  “Come and sit down, mate.” Stephan indicates the space next to him on the sofa.

  Bessie pulls free of my hold and bounds over to greet him. With a gasp, I grab her and pull her back, only just stopping her from jumping into Stephan’s lap.

  “I’m sorry. She’s excited to see you,” I apologise in confusion. “She isn’t usually this badly behaved. I wouldn’t have brought her if I’d known she would be all over you.”

  “That’s okay.” Stephan grins at me. “It must be my magnetic personality, and I know you’re more relaxed when she’s around. I would never have asked you to leave her behind.”

  “Oh, okay.” I nod, not looking at him, still confused by Bessie’s unusually flighty behaviour and by my reaction to being this close to Stephan again. I mean, we only kissed once, but I suddenly have the urge to jump into his lap as well, so I understand Bessie’s eagerness.

  I take a seat at the other end of the sofa, not too far away from where he said, but not so close as to be invading his personal space. I deposit my backpack beside me on the floor and then direct my gaze at my hands to check they aren’t doing something odd, like wringing in my lap, or that my fingers aren’t flicking and flexing.

  “Hello, Stephan.” I smile, but I know I’ve made a mess of this. “I mean, I probably should have said that straightaway, before I sat down.”

  “That’s all right. You know I don’t mind doing things in the wrong order.”

  “Yes, yes, I knew that, yes.” When I eventually look up, he’s smiling at me. So, okay, maybe I haven’t messed up that badly—yet.

  “There’s a bowl of water for Bessie over there.” He indicates a bowl on the floor in the corner of the conservatory.

  “Thank you.” I smile at him, then show Bessie, watching as she drinks the same way she does everything else: with enthusiasm.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Stephan asks. “Tea, coffee? I don’t know what you like.”

  “I-I, erm…” His question takes me by surprise. I can’t process it quickly enough. “I don’t drink…” Well, that sounds stupid, because everyone drinks. For want of a better way to explain, I pull out a water bottle from the side pocket of my backpack and show it to him. “I brought my own water.”

  “Oh, water from our taps not good enough, then?” George mutters from his position to the side of the sofa.

  I jump, startled because I’d forgotten he was still there. Oh god, has he just watched all that awkwardness? What must he be thinking? I can’t look. Instead, I fix my gaze on Stephan.

  Stephan’s eyes flicker to his dad, and they narrow. “Dad!” He jerks his head to one side. George rolls his eyes and huffs.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, sounding unhappy. “Seems I’ve had my marching orders. Nice meeting you, Kit. Enjoy your water.”

  “Er, I erm…” I stop, because he’s gone before I can form a suitable reply.

  I watch him disappear through the door and wince when it slams shut. I turn to face Stephan again.

  “Was your dad angry with me for bringing my own water? I mean, I drink tea at home, and with Yenta, but anywhere else, I only drink water. I usually bring my own because water tastes different from other people’s taps.”

  I wring my hands in my lap, waiting for him to laugh, or tell me that’s a stupid thing to say, because water tastes the same wherever you are, it’s just water. Unless you’re me, of course. But he doesn’t say anything, not until I look up at him.

  “Don’t worry about it, Kit. My dad’s just a grumpy old sod.”

  “Some people say that about me,” I admit. “I mean, not the old bit, because I’m not, old that is. Not that your dad is old either, because he’s not. Yenta is eighty, and I still don’t think of her as old, really. I’m rambling, sorry.”

  “Ramble away, mate. I love it. Anyway, You’ve got reasons to be grumpy.” Stephan’s eyes sparkle as he smiles. “My dad doesn’t need an excuse. He frequently wakes up grumpy and stays that way all day.”

  “But I do that,” I say, worrying now, that he might not know me as well as he seems to.

  “Perhaps,” Stephan agrees, as he shuffles closer to me on the sofa. “I think I could live with your sort of grumpy. At least it makes sense.”

  “To who?” I ask, puzzled. “Because it often doesn’t even make sense to me.”

  Stephan chuckles and reaches out to touch my cheek. I lean back a little, out of reach, regarding his fingers before I look up at his eyes again. Instead of stopping him from touching me at all, I grab his hand and hold it. That way, at least the touch isn’t so light and I have a bit more control over it.

  “You don’t like being touched?” Stephan asks, and not in an annoyed way because I’ve just prevented him from doing something he wanted to do. He sounds curious.

  “It’s not that. I do like being touched, but light touch—it hurts my skin. You probably think that’s a stupid thing to say.”

  “I don’t think that at all. I don’t like being tickled,” he confesses. “Everyone tells me I should like it, that it should make me laugh, but it just makes my skin crawl, and it’s an invasion of my space, and I always want to go and take a long hot shower after someone’s done it.”

  I gasp. “That’s exactly how I feel! Except it hurts as well, really stings, like a cut, or as if someone’s scratching my skin with razor sharp nails.”

  “Ouch.” Stephan grimaces, looking sympathetic.

  And that’s it, I’ve run out of things to say because I came here without a list or a plan. If I open my mouth again, I’m afraid something else even more odd will come out of it. Everything I’ve said to this man so far has emphasised just how different I am, and I know he seems to be okay with it all, but there’s a limit, and I’ve decided that three odd things is enough, so now I have nothing more to say.

  Instead, I stare at my hands, clenched tightly in my lap.

  “Kit, are you nervous?” Stephan asks me.

  I take a deep breath, understanding why he might think that.

  “I am a little, but not because I’m nervous of you or anything like that, because I’m not. I’m holding my hands like this because if I don’t, I’m afraid they’ll do something inappropriate.”

  Stephan snorts, and when I look at him, startled by his reaction, I see his eyes are sparkling and he’s smirking. What did I say to make him react like that?

  “Oh.” I shake my head when I realise why he thinks my explanation was funny. “I don’t mean that sort of inappropriate. I mean, you know, like clenching my fists, or flexing my fingers. I do that sort of thing without thinking. It’s just that some people think it’s a bit odd.”

  “You go ahead and do what you want, mate,” Stephan urges me. “I won’t think it’s odd at all. And if it starts getting inappropriate, all the better.”

  I frown for a moment, processing what he’s said, before laughing and meeting his gaze.

  He laughs too. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.” He grins. “You always seem so serious.”

  “That’s because I’m always concentrating on what I’m supposed to be doing next. It’s a difficult job being me.”

  “I would have thought it harder to try and be something you’re not, Kit. Personally, I wouldn’t want you to be anything but yourself.”

  “Sometimes being myself can be difficult for other people.”

  “Sod other people,” Stephan exclaims. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

  I look up at him, feeling the honesty of his statement as if it is a solid thing I can hold in my hand. I recall when I’d heard him say this same thing to his dad the night before and just how amazing it had made me feel. I want to say something to him, to make him feel the same, but I know nothing I say will ever sound as good.

  Instead, I blurt out the first thing I think of. It’s the first thing I always think of when I think of him.

  “I think you have lovely eyes,” I say, grimacing when t
hose lovely eyes widen in surprise. “I mean, I don’t usually notice anyone’s eyes. There’s people I’ve known for years and I couldn’t tell you what colour eyes they have, but I noticed yours. They’re like a clear blue sky on a spring morning.”

  “Oh.” Stephan looks a little stunned, and I look away, embarrassed.

  “I know that sounds daft, because how can your eyes be the sky? But that’s how I felt when we first met, and when I didn’t know your name I called you Mr. Spring.” I chuckle nervously, staring back down at my hands. “Yeah, silly, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Stephan breathes, his hands closing firmly over mine. “Not at all. I think…” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, swallowing hard as if he’s struggling to speak. “Kit, that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  I snort. “Bollocks. I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” Stephan’s grip tightens. “No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  “Oh, well, okay. So you don’t think it’s silly?” I ask, just to make sure.

  “No. I think it’s wonderful. I think you’re wonderful, in fact, I think I need to kiss you.”

  “O-okay, you know, you don’t have to ask my permission every time.”

  “No, but I love the look on your face when I do. Kiss me,” he demands, so I do.

  The kiss tastes of spaghetti Bolognese and not in a bad way, not like a shop-bought sauce. It’s more like the homemade kind. He’s obviously had some for lunch and living in a hotel it was probably homemade. I can taste fresh basil with an underlying hint of toothpaste, since he must have cleaned his teeth before I got here.

  His fingers are laced with mine, and it feels nice. His hand is warm and firm and somehow safe. I don’t understand how that can be. We don’t know each other well enough to feel this secure.

  “Stephan.” I stare at our joined hands after the kiss has ended, because if I look at his face, I will forget what I want to say, or get it all muddled up and end up blurting out something strange. “Are we friends? Because I can’t always tell if someone wants to be friends with me.”

  “You can’t tell even when they kiss you?” he asks, his tone gentle, patient, unconditional.

  “Friends don’t kiss.” I gasp, looking up and finding that he’s watching me intently. I knew he would be and I knew it would affect me this way. My breathing quickens and my heart pounds in my ears. “Oh. You don’t want to be friends with me, do you?”

  “Of course I do.” Stephan looks a little confused. “Kit, why do you think I asked you out, and kissed you and put up with your dog licking my feet?”

  “Oh, god, Bessie, stop doing that.” I shove Bessie away from him, embarrassed that she’s been doing that and I hadn’t noticed, but Stephan just laughs.

  “Define friends to me,” he says, as he scratches Bessie behind her ears. “Just so we’re on the same wavelength here.”

  I hesitate, because what is it that he’s asking me to do? Talk about friendship, or talk about radio stations?

  “I mean, tell me what you think we are to each other,” Stephan clarifies helpfully. “And then I’ll tell you what I think.”

  “You kissed me, and you asked me out.” I twist my mouth a little as I ponder his question. “I think you want to be my boyfriend?” I make the statement into a question. “Or a hookup.”

  “A hookup?” Stephan exclaims. “No, Jesus, Kit, what the hell?”

  “O-okay, sorry. I think I’ve messed this up and I haven’t even given you the chocolates.” I move away from him, but he doesn’t let me leave go of his hand.

  “Wait, you brought me chocolates?”

  “Well, yes.” I nod. “Yenta wanted me to bring you flowers because she thinks it’s romantic, but flowers are technically dead as soon as you pick them, and giving someone something that’s dead, when you really want them to get better, doesn’t make any sense to me. So I went to the chocolatier’s along the high street, even though it’s not a day I usually go shopping, and asked the lady to pick some for you. Sorry if there are some you don’t like. I wanted to call you to ask you which kind were your favourite but Yenta said that it would spoil the surprise.”

  As I speak, I take the wrapped box of chocolates from my bag and hand it to him, waiting for him to turn away, or to continue talking about what I said to upset him, but instead, he no longer looks angry. He looks, well, as if he’s going to cry.

  “You went shopping for chocolates, at a chocolate shop—even though you hate shopping and hate places like that because they smell—just for me?”

  “Yes.” I nod. “I mean, I don’t hate shopping. It’s just difficult.” I grimace, worried that I’m oversharing again. “I only had to leave the shop twice while I was there. I explained to the lady that I might have to, and she was okay with it. She just chose a selection of her favourites. I hope you like them. Maybe we could talk about something else other than that boyfriend stuff because I think I made you angry, sorry.”

  “I’m not angry with you, Kit,” Stephan tells me, still staring at the box of chocolates as if it is a thing of wonder. “I was just surprised that you might think I only wanted to hook up with you.”

  “So you don’t?”

  “No. I want to go out on dates with you. I want to get to know you. I want to spend time with you because I think you’re lovely. And I do eventually want to be your boyfriend—if that’s what you want.”

  “I think I want those things too.” I nod, frowning as I concentrate. “There are some things we need to talk about.”

  “Can we talk about them over dinner? At Subway if that’s where you really want to go.”

  “I—” I bite my lip, wondering if now is a good time to mention my alternative plan. The one I had meant to talk to him about yesterday when I found him in a ditch with a sprained ankle and it all went out of my head until I got home.

  “Kit.” Stephan grabs both of my hands and holds them tight, in that safe, secure way that has me breathless again. “If this dinner malarkey is too much for you, then we can do something else. Anything. I just want to spend time with you. I don’t mind what we do.”

  “I—okay. I think I need more time to think.” I don’t, but I’m in danger of doing or saying something stupid and making a fool of myself. “You did say I could take all the time I needed. Did you mean that, or did you really mean you wanted me to give you an answer straightaway?”

  “I meant it, Kit. Take all the time you need.”

  I nod, watching his face for what, I don’t know, because I won’t be able to guess what he’s thinking anyway.

  “I think I need to go now,” I tell him. “I’ll come back when I’ve thought.”

  “Of course.” He smiles, squeezing my hand before letting it go. There is no hint that he is disappointed in any way, and it’s not as if I’ve said no, because I haven’t.

  I stand up and he follows me with his eyes as I get ready to leave. Those eyes have me tied in knots, quite literally: my legs and arms refuse to move the way I want them to. Instead, in an impulsive move that is completely out of character, I reach out and touch his face with my fingertips. He gasps as I deliberately meet his gaze.

  “Spring light,” I whisper, before leaning in to kiss him. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Spring.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Stephan whispers against my lips after laughing at the silly nickname.

  I call to Bessie and she comes, following me out of the conservatory door and into the garden. I don’t look back because I’m already thinking about my alternative plan for this date. I mean, I’ve already thought about it long enough. Why couldn’t I talk to him about it just then? Why can’t I go back right now? Will he think I’m odd?

  Who am I kidding? He already thinks I’m odd. In fact, his entire family thinks I’m odd, and it doesn’t seem to matter to them, or to him. I surely don’t have anything to lose.

  I look down at Bessie. “What do you think
, Bessie? Should I go back now, just walk in there and tell him my plan?”

  Bessie tips her head to one side, her ears twitching and her eyebrows flicking up and down.

  “Urgh, you’re no help. I wish you could speak.”

  I bite at my lip, flicking my thumbnails as I make my decision and burst back into the conservatory before I lose my nerve.

  “I’ve thought about it,” I blurt out a little louder than I’d intended.

  Stephan looks pretty startled at my sudden reappearance.

  “Bloody hell, mate, that was quick.” The smirk that never quite leaves his mouth is firmly in place as he waits for me to continue.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I grimace. “I already had a plan, and I was going to tell you last night, but then I found you in a ditch, which was a bit unexpected, and then, today, I mean, just now, you had me all flustered, you know—” I wave my hands about in the general direction of my face “—the kissing stuff, and spaghetti Bolognese and toothpaste, and relationship statuses. It doesn’t take much to get me flustered. I’m a bit of a dork when it comes to, you know, interacting with people.”

  Stephan is just looking at me with this massive smirk on his face. “Mate, you have got to be the most adorable dork I’ve ever met. I think you might just be practically perfect in every way.”

  “Oh, like Mary Poppins.” I laugh then frown. “Except I’m not a nanny, and you’re not a chimney sweep.”

  He chuckles. “Why don’t you come back over here and tell me your plan? And while you’re at it, explain the spaghetti Bolognese thing as well.”

  He pats the sofa beside him, and I do as he asks, sitting closer this time, so he doesn’t have to shuffle over in order to hold my hand.

  I take a deep breath and tell him my pizza plan.

  Chapter Seven

  Shopping for Pizzas

  or

  Why Do People Not Follow the Rules?

  Today, I am shopping specifically for pizza ingredients for my date with Stephan. After I told him all about it, he agreed it was an awesome plan. I suspect he would have said that even if I’d suggested we go on a tour of the city sewers. That is something I’d quite like to do, actually. I’ll have to write that down.