Chapter 7: A Dream Of White Horses, Part 7, Ben

I shake my head. “It was bright sunshine when I left home. Didn’t think I needed anything else.”

“I’ve got a clean pullover in the car. Back in a jiffy...” He strides out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or so later, his hair wet but carrying a sweater.

Thrusting it at me, “Get that on you. There’s a bathroom out at the back to change.”

It feels a bit odd, accepting clothes from a near stranger, but I’m in no position to argue. My jeans are still sopping, but with the warm jersey, at least my top half is warm and I do feel much better.

The sweater is not a good fit and would easily accommodate another one of me inside. I’d not realised before how broad-shouldered Ben is, or for that matter, how much taller he is than me.

A bit self-consciously, I return to the bar. He eyes me, mouth puckering. “Not exactly a fashion statement, is it?”

“Thanks very much. I owe you one.” I say, pushing the sleeves up past my wrists, trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug. “I really appreciate it. Er... do mind if I borrow it to go home in? I’m happy to post it back to you.”

“I’d prefer that you handed it back to me, perhaps when we meet up for a meal?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.

I sip my coffee, thinking.

He wants a date with me?

An actual date?

It’s been a while...

“Hey, if you’re not interested, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He looks down, then away, out of the window at the lashing rain.

“I didn’t say that. I was just thinking... It’s been a while since I had a date. Er, that is what you meant is it?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant. So...”

He’s so serious. He never smiles...

What harm can it do?

“Yeah... I’d like that. When did you have in mind?”

“You doing anything tonight?”

“I’d no plans, no.”

“Do you like Italian food? Do you know Luigi’s Restaurant, in the City?”

“Yes, and yes. It’s only a couple of streets away from where I live.”

“Good. I’ll meet you there, say... eightish?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“And, um, perhaps a change of clothes before I see you again?”

I look down at the jersey, hanging limply from my frame. “It’s a bit big.”

His eyes slide down me. “I’ll admit it’s not what I usually have in mind when I get a woman out of her tee-shirt...”

Did he just say that?

He winks. “Gotta go. See you later.”

*****

I make a point of arriving at Luigi’s a few minutes early. But I don’t go in, instead buying myself a latte at the coffee bar opposite, and seating myself in the window to watch.

Why am I nervous?

At five to eight, Ben appears around the corner. The rain has cleared, and he wears a plain white shirt, the top couple of buttons undone, and black jeans.

Nice...

He pops his head through the door to glance inside, then returns to wait outside, looking up and down the street.

Something feels unfamiliar about this. Of course, it’s been a while since I last had an actual date...

Yeah... it’s a date. Not a meet-up for a quick fuck...

My stomach is fluttering, my throat tight as I swallow my coffee.

Don’t be so damn silly. It’s a date. That’s all...

Gulping down the last of my drink, I exit the cafe to cross the street. “Ben...”

“Ah, there you are.” He gives me a peck on the cheek, then, “I reserved a table for us. Shall we...”

Courtesy itself, he opens the door, gesturing me through first. At our table, he pulls out my chair to seat me, offers me the menu. He is a perfect gentleman.

But he never smiles. There’s something about him, a kind of grimness, that’s a little off-putting.

Is he nervous too?

“Got yourself dried out alright?” he asks. “You’re feeling okay? Not going to come down with anything?”

“I’m fine. I had a long soak in a hot bath. It’s going to be a while before it’s pleasant being in the car though. You know what the smell of wet dog is like.”

“Yeah. It’s just the worst, isn’t it?” And he laughs.

And with the laugh, his whole face changes, lighting up. Suddenly, from being a little ordinary, he is a strikingly good-looking man, his features transformed.

Wow!

“Something wrong?” he asks, and I realise that I am gaping at him.

Embarrassed, “Er, no nothing. It’s just that you look very different when you smile.”

He clicks his tongue; flashes his brows. “You’re not the first to say that. My mother’s forever on at me to smile more. She says it makes me look more like my brother.”

“Your brother? So, there’s more like you out there?”

He rocks his hand back and forth. “No, not really. He was at the head of the queue when they handed out the good looks.”

“I think you’re underplaying yourself a bit. You’re not bad-looking...”

“Yes, but that’s as far as it goes, isn’t it? ‘Not bad-looking’. He has women throwing themselves at him...” He stares down, paying attention to his meal.

Is he jealous? Of his own brother?

I try to lighten the mood, crack a joke. “Every maiden’s dream, eh? Perhaps I should look him up...”

And he smiles again, his face transforming once more. “Too late. You’ve missed the boat. He got married recently.” He casts a speculative look over me. “I’m assuming there’s no ‘Mr Kirstie’ out there?”

“No. It’s just me. I opted out of that club a while ago.”

“Why was that?”

“Um... mainly that my husband’s girlfriend was pregnant. It put me off the whole relationship thing.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, that would do it. How long ago was that?”

“A couple of years.”

“And, there’s been no-one since then?”