‘For quick and dirty, a ploughman’s lunch. I mean, if you can’t get a platter of cheese, meats and cornichons right, what hope have you got? It makes a perfect picnic, too.’ I could slam down some pickle juice right now, I thought.
‘And onions.’ Marcus’s voice cut across the outdoor space as he pulled a chair up opposite me. Grace shuffled aside to let him in but, with the look she was giving him, she was hoping to make room for him in her pants, too.
I said nothing. Everyone else offered up the best confused looks.
‘What about a long meal?’ Glenn looked glumly at his empty beer. ‘Say, if someone were to cook for you.’
I huffed. ‘Really? Anything I haven’t cooked. I mean, it’s been that long since someone cooked a meal for me, I’d probably settle for a Happy Meal and a sundae at this stage. Although, saying that, I do realise that is still fast food, but I’m sure you get the picture.’
On the subject of food, we ordered an assortment of share plates, all picked through the very scientific method of throwing bar nuts at the menu. Oh, and a ploughman’s platter. The night wore on, plates stacked higher, and every time Marcus came near me, I moved away, until I couldn’t move any further.
Penny, who’d earlier vanished into the throng, resurfaced in my inbox. She was leaving, her message said, with contact details for where she was headed. At least she was being safe, I thought as I scrolled through the length of her message. Still, I wanted to catch her before she vanished into the night. Excusing myself, I left the table, brushing past Marcus on my way through. He reached out, fingers slipping through mine as I placed a hand out to stop him.
When I couldn’t find Penny or her mystery man, I called an end to my own night. I’d had enough to drink, was suitably buzzed, and wasn’t keen on making a complete tit of myself in front of people I’d barely known a week. Good Vibes Ellie was ready to be tucked into bed. I said my goodbyes to cries of, ‘But it’s only just gone eleven, stay for one more drink!’ before making a beeline for the door.
Stepping out onto the street, I pulled my coat tighter around me and tucked my hands under my arms.
‘Eleanor, stop.’ Marcus burst out the front door, squeezing between two people, one arm wrangling his coat about his head. ‘Wait.’
I shot him a filthy look over my shoulder and kept walking.
‘Which way to your place?’ His jacket finally slipped over his shoulders with the soft rustle of expensive fabric.
My eyes widened. ‘I beg yours?’
‘I take it you’re walking home?’ he asked.
‘No, George Jetson was about to pick me up from the taxi rank.’ I swung my arm out and mimicked the noise of the cartoon flying car. ‘I was going to go home and have Rosie make me a pot of tea.’
‘Smart arse,’ he grumbled. ‘You’ve only ingested about half the bar.’
‘Oh, and I suppose you’re going to suddenly mine your stash of chivalry, are you?’ I kept up the quick walk along the main street.
‘Actually, I am,’ he argued. ‘Because I don’t think you should be walking home alone.’
‘You don’t want me walking home alone?’ I stopped on the spot, outside a pie shop that was in the throes of closing for the night, barely a light left on in the place. A teenager moved back and forth with a dirty old mop while a blue-light bug zapper burned brightly above the kitchen door. I turned the buttons on my coat. ‘I suppose you think you’re doing a community service, too. You’re so bloody conceited.’
‘Let me get this straight.’ He shifted on his feet and shoved a hand in his pocket. ‘I’ve just told you I’d like to walk you home to make sure you get there safely, because God knows where Penny’s gone. She obviously cares so much about your welfare that she left you alone in a bar. And you’re the one attacking me?’
‘Or maybe she understands that a woman in her thirties is more than capable of getting home safely.’ I pointed in the general direction of home. ‘It’s six hundred metres, at the most,’ I said, before grumbling, ‘maybe a kilometre.’
‘It may surprise you, but the places you think are safe are not always so, and a beautiful woman walking home slightly tipsy may very well become a target.’
I glared at him. I didn’t know whether to feel patronised or touched by the gesture. Lady Justice was having a hard time weighing up her options, too. I think she was about to shake her Magic 8 Ball.
Reply hazy, try again.
‘So, after the day we’ve both had, if my worry makes me conceited, so be it. Conversely, I have tried no less than six times to talk to you tonight and, on each occasion, you’ve either turned away, or simply ignored me.’
‘You’ve been keeping count?’ I shrieked.
‘So, who’s conceited now?’ Marcus folded his arms across his chest and drummed his fingers. He really was quite attractive. And tall. And pretty.
‘Men can get attacked, too, you know,’ I sputtered. ‘And I’ve been here for years. I know the ways.’
‘So, walk me home instead.’
‘Why? You lost your way?’ I laughed, snapping my fingers in his face. ‘Hold on … did you call me beautiful?’
‘I believe I did, yes.’
‘Right, then,’ I said quietly. ‘Thank you.’
‘You know, I might even kiss you if you’d stop arguing with me for three minutes.’
‘I do not argue with you,’ I said. ‘Anyway, three minutes is quick.’
‘Exhibit A.’ He waved a hand towards me. ‘I can’t even—’
‘So, do it.’ I almost wanted to backtrack immediately. Almost.
‘What?’
‘Do it,’ I said. ‘You’re so sure, do it.’
Marcus shook his fists towards the sky and, with one fell swoop, stepped forward, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. As his thumbs drew against my cheekbones, all I could think was, Oh my God, oh my bloody God! We were the last two people to succeed at getting along with each other this week, so why were we chasing this so far up the hill I was about to fetch a pail of water?
And why the hell did it feel so unbearably good? Heat bloomed in my chest, sending any and all common sense fluttering towards the sun on a trajectory last seen by Icarus. Let’s not forget how well that all ended.
With fingers drawn through my hair, and a tug so gentle it barely registered, my ponytail unravelled and tangled through his fingers.
He drew breath. ‘Not bad for someone who’s always so wound up.’
‘And you’re so stuck up.’ I kissed him again. This time, I fumbled with the front of his shirt, the thick expensive fabric, the tiny translucent buttons that felt colder than the night air, and the soft silk of this tie. My fingers drew a line up his chest, past his collar, and came to rest at the nape of his neck.
‘You wanna just come home with me instead?’ he mumbled against my mouth.
‘Why, so you can save me from the dragons?’
‘Something like that.’
* * *
The Great Penis Drought ended exactly thirty-seven minutes ago.
‘Should we perhaps define this?’ I asked.
Marcus shifted his weight, rolling over to face me. His breath came in tiny puffs that tickled my cheeks. For a moment, I simply enjoyed looking at him, at the self-satisfied smile that barely registered, at the