November 18th, 1990

November 18th, 1990

At home, England

The phone woke me up and I picked up expecting it to be David, in full-on grovel mode.

“Hey you.”

“Hi Ben,” I breathed, immediately reprimanding myself.

“How’s tricks?”

“Good,” I fibbed. “How about you?”

“Can’t complain. What’re you up to?”

“About five seven.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, aren’t you a funny one. When are you flying again?”

“Not for a few more days.”

Regardless of whether my so-called boyfriend actually bothers to contact me or not!

“Me too.” I felt his smile through the phone. “Wanna meet up?”

“When? Where?”

Not that it matters because I’m not meeting you!

“My train gets in just before six.”

Don’t even…

“Cool, why don’t I meet you at eight after you see your mum and dad?”

“Actually, would you mind picking me up?”

“At the train station?”

“Yup.”

“Sure, see you there.”

All afternoon I toyed with the idea of ringing him back to say something had come up and I couldn’t make it but, fueled by David’s blatant lack of contact, I chose to go.

When I saw Ben step off the train, I remained as stoic as possible but truth be known, my stomach was deceiving me with that butterflies flying free feeling.

“Hey you,” he grinned.

“Hey yourself.”

“You look well,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“As do you,” I said, enjoying a quick whiff of my all-time favourite cologne.  “Flying clearly agrees with you.”

“Agrees with us,” he smiled. That dangerous little word. “Fancy a drink at The Point?”

“Yeah, why not,” I countered, still heady from his scent.

We sat in our old favourite spot at the bar and Ben ordered a rather expensive bottle of red. “How many times do you figure we’ve been here?”

I shrugged my shoulders, distracted by the movement of his hands.

“I’d estimate hundreds,” he continued. “Not to mention all the films we’ve seen here. Do you remember when this place first opened?”

“Of course,” I laughed. “We’re only talking about five years ago.”

“Which was what? About two years into our relationship?”

Our and relationship in the same sentence did something to my breathing.

“That sounds about right.”

We laughed and reminisced about all sorts and when the bottle was empty (Ben drank most of it) I asked if he was ready to go.

“Where to?” His tone was beyond suggestive so, in an attempt at feigning innocence, I said, “Don’t you want me to drop you off at your mum and dad’s?”

He looked at me with an all too familiar expression that made my stomach react in an all too familiar way. “Can I come and see your new pad first?”

Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.

“Sure,” I smiled.

 

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