Lucky Scars

by Kerry Heavens

  “Five-minute rule?” I laughed, finally relaxing. The line moved forward, and I gazed into the cake counter.

  “Something like that,” he muttered.

  I gasped at his admission. “You broke the five-minute rule, didn’t you?”

  He flushed slightly. “Maybe a little, but you kept me waiting so long I had nothing else to do!” he blurted.

  “That’s a foul or something, right?” I laughed. “I don’t know the rules exactly, but that’s definitely against them.”

  Jonathan held up his hands. “Fine, I’ll take a penalty. You can ask me three personal questions before we move on. Okay?” There was an invitation in his tone.

  I eyed him dubiously, but we were interrupted by the barista.

  “What can I get you?” she asked Jonathan, ignoring my existence.

  I opened my mouth, but the words were not spoken by me.

  “Two flat whites, please,” Jonathan said with authority. “Have you eaten?” he asked me, nodding towards the food.

  “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

  “Just the coffees then, please,” he told her, not leaving any space for a discussion about payment as he did his watch trick again. I just let him. He was definitely the paying-for-coffee type, but it wasn’t going to become a habit since I wasn’t going to see him again after this, so I wouldn’t bother to challenge it. Besides, I was safer from the fog if I stepped out of it slightly.

  “So, come on then. I’m ready,” he stated as we moved on to the end of the counter to wait. “Three questions. As personal as you like.”

  I thought for a second. “How old are you?”

  His shoulders sagged. “Is that the best you can do? That’s a standard question; you get those for free, you know.”

  “Is that so? What am I supposed to ask then?”

  “That’s up to you, Bea.” I caught a slight eyebrow wiggle and knew I was completely out of my depth. “Be more creative than that at least.”

  “Hmm. Then I think I’d like to reserve my questions, please.”

  He quirked his brows. “Interesting. Thirty-two,” he added in answer to my question.

  “Shit,” I cursed under my breath.

  “What’s wrong with being thirty-two?”

  “Nothing,” I replied flatly. “I remember it well.” I shook my head. This was getting worse by the minute.

  Jonathan looked puzzled.

  “I’m older than you.” I clarified.

  “Really?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “Yep,” I popped my lips on the P. “Thirty-six next birthday.” Which is really, really soon, I thought to myself.

  “Oh, well, that’s hardly older, is it?”

  “It’s long enough for you to be the same age as my annoying little brother.”

  “Well, I promise not to pull your hair, unless—” He cut himself off, and my eyes widened.

  I blinked at him. “You were really going to say ‘unless you want me to,’ weren’t you?”

  “I think we should focus on the fact that I didn’t, though,” he grinned sheepishly.

  “This was such a bad idea,” I grumbled.

  “No, no. We’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen.”

  Our coffees were called out and with a great big pause on our conversation, we took them and added sugar and took stirrers. Then I followed him to a small table against the steamed-up window. He eyed me up and down as I unzipped my coat and revealed that my outfit beneath was nowhere near as dressy as the one he’d seen me in on the day we met. I’ll admit I had softened my somewhat androgynous wardrobe, but it was still a far cry from a fitted dress and heels. If he had an opinion on the matter, though, he didn’t express it and sat quickly, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

  “So,” he started, sounding like this was a totally new conversation. “I’m a very mature thirty-two, in answer to your question. How about you…if you don’t mind me asking.”

  I stifled a laugh. “I’m an infantile thirty-five.”

  “I see; so we’re roughly the same age, then,” he said pointedly, glossing over the fact that I’m a few years ahead.

  “Roughly.”

  “Any siblings?” he threw in.

  I choked on my sip of coffee and the tension between us cleared as we both laughed.

  “Just one slightly annoying younger brother. You?”

  “I have a sister. She’s my twin, actually. Although, she’ll tell you she is older by 11 minutes.”

  “Twins, wow.”

  “Not really. We’re just siblings, essentially. No kooky twin-vibe thing going on between us. We were in the same womb at the same time, that’s all. Other than that, we just pick on each other, stitch each other up with our parents any chance we get, and generally try to irritate each other as much as possible.”

  “That sounds like me and my brother,” I nodded in recognition.

  “So, can I ask about what you do now? I know it’s ill-gotten information that had me intrigued, but I’m interested. A game company? That’s… different.”

  I sucked in a breath and considered what to say. “Well, I’m pretty passionate about games, I guess…”

  He thought about this for a moment. “It’s just an unusual career path for—”

  “A girl?” I interjected with a definite challenge to my tone.

  He closed his eyes in shame and winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a pretty unusual career path in general, but yeah, I guess for a…” he cleared his throat, “woman, it seems even more surprising. Most women I know don’t give any time to that kind of thing.”

  Taking note of the fact that he pointedly corrected me from “girl” to “woman,” I forged ahead. “There are plenty of women into gaming, I’ll have you know. But we make game apps. There isn’t any person living in the civilised world, man or woman, who doesn’t give some time to playing those on their phone these days, I assure you.”

  “So, I’ll just put that in my sexist, old-fashioned pipe and smoke it, shall I?” he laughed.

  I couldn’t help laughing too. At least he wasn’t denying his outdated views. “So, what do you do?” I looked him up and down, making sure it was obvious I was appraising his appearance as he had mine. “Let me guess,” I pondered. “You argue like a lawyer, but maybe that’s too cliché. Something in banking perhaps?” I tapped my finger to my chin to show I was thinking. “Hedge-fund Manager?”

  Jonathan clutched a hand to his chest. “I’m insulted,” he gasped.

  “Why? You look the part. Tailored suit, flashy watch, hair just so.”

  He touched the side of his hair in a gesture that said thanks for noticing. Then his face turned serious. “So, because I dress nicely and look after myself, I must be what you obviously deem the lowest-of-the-low in the finance field?”

  “And I’m a girl, so I can’t be interested in computer games?”

  “Touché.”

  I grinned. “So, seriously, what do you do?”

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “I knew it! A hedge-fund lawyer?” I asked with a smirk.

  He looked crestfallen. “No, a civil rights lawyer.”

  Oh crap. There I was ripping him to shreds for the way he looked, and he’s all noble and shit. I swallowed hard. “Really?”

  “No,” he laughed. “Not really.”

  I released a sigh of relief.

  “I’m an editor.”

  I frowned, I didn’t see that coming. “Of a newspaper?”

  Jonathan shook his head as he chuckled ruefully and sipped his coffee, leaving me waiting.

  “What?” I challenged. “It was a legitimate question.”

  “I was just amused by the way you’re determined to think the worst of me, that’s all.”

  “I’m not.” I was close to breaking out in a sweat. This was not going at all how I’d hoped it would. “I just asked if you edited a newspaper that’s all.”

  “Because in your mind, if I’m not a cliched lawyer, or a lowes
t-of-the-low hedge-fund manager, that only leaves journalism?”

  My cheeks burned with shame and I wanted to disappear. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Jonathan smiled. “I’m teasing you Bea. I’m an executive editor for a small publishing house. It’s nothing exciting, or noble, but I’m not the bad guy you seem to think I am.”

  I closed my eyes and cursed myself for even coming today. “Fair enough, you win.” I conceded.

  “I think we’re even.” Jonathan laughed heartily, and the tension between us broke again.

  We relaxed into steady conversation. I learnt that his father, ironically, was in fact a financial lawyer, and his mother was a teacher. She gave him his love of literature. His twin sister was a chef and lived in Paris. I told him that my parents have built a very successful building company which grew into a nice little property portfolio that my dad could manage and retire. I told him my little brother, Charlie, was also in the gaming industry and lived out of the city in Surrey, and that he and his husband Max had recently adopted this amazing kid called Jake.

  “That’s really cool,” he smiled.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m so happy for him. A family is what he always wanted, and Jake was meant for them. He’s a little gamer too; he fits right in.” I smiled wistfully, making a note that I had to go and see them soon.

  I studied Jonathan as he took a drink. What I really wanted to ask him was why he was still single at thirty-two. But I was hardly one to talk, and I didn’t want to bring up his relationship status in case it made me sound interested in becoming personally involved in changing it. As if reading my mind, however, he pipped me to the post.

  “What about you,” he asked casually. “No family plans?”

  My chest tightened. It wasn’t even a question about my single status I could dodge. No, he went right for the jugular and got all up in my family plans. I categorically was not opening that can of worms with him. I decided, aside from bolting for the door, the safest response was a purely career-driven one. “No, no plans,” I replied as cheerfully as possible. “Work keeps me so busy, I don’t even have time for a social life, let alone anything else.”

  “I know that feeling,” he agreed knowingly. Then he leant across the table slightly, catching my eye. “But we all deserve some happiness, don’t we?”

  Jesus, this guy had an answer for everything.

  I took a deep breath and inclined my body towards him to focus his attention on my words. “Jonathan, you’re very nice, but I really don’t have time for a relationship right now.”

  “Maybe we have to make time?”

  I huffed out the air I was holding onto and pulled away until my back met with chair.

  Jonathan didn’t look at all fazed. “I like you, Bea. I’d really like to get to know you.”

  “I—” I goldfished.

  “I’m not asking for a commitment or anything. I’m just asking if I can take you out, have some fun. Live a little.”

  I sighed. “Look, I’m really no good at this. It would be easier for you if you just turn your attention to someone less… complicated.” I couldn’t even look at him as I laid it out.

  “No one else has my attention, Bea. Only you. I can wait.”

  “Wait for what?” I snapped, my eyes meeting his with the force of my frustration. “Because this situation isn’t going to change for me. I don’t date. I don’t have room in my life for a relationship with anyone. I prefer it that way.”

  He looked so deflated that I found myself leaning across the table even more to offer him comfort. “Look, I’m sorry; I’m just… not good at this.” I knew I was repeating myself, but without giving him a whole lot of information I really didn’t want him to know, it was all I had to offer. “Really, you’d be better off forgetting the whole thing.”

  He studied me wordlessly and sipped his coffee. When he replaced the cup into the saucer, he looked serious. “You know, I don’t usually have time for the dating thing either. But for you I’m willing to make time.”

  “Why? Why me?” I felt frustration ready to burst out of me. “I haven’t asked for this.”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. But I saw you here that day and I just felt compelled to get to know you. And if I’m being totally honest, the more resistance you put up, the more I feel like there’s something worth knowing.”

  “So, what you’re telling me is, if I fell over you, you’d quickly lose interest?” I threw my arms out in surrender. “Perfect. See, I told you I’m no good at this. I’m going about it all wrong.”

  “I’m not saying that…” he hesitated.

  “But there is some truth to it, right? You have a habit of losing interest quickly?”

  “With most women I meet, yes,” he conceded, “but you seem different.”

  “I’m not throwing myself at you, you mean.”

  “I’d like to think it’s more complex than that but possibly.” He seemed relaxed in making such a confession. He was supplicating, for heaven’s sake.

  “Well, I’m happy that my indifference has woken you out of your female-induced boredom, but this is not tactical indifference, I assure you. I’m not just trying to be a challenge. I really am not interested.”

  “My friend is opening his bar tonight on Grafton Street,” he stated, completely ignoring my entire argument. “Come and have a drink with me?”

  I laughed. “You’re not getting it, are you?”

  “I’m hearing the words, Bea; I’m having a hard time understanding your resistance, though.”

  “My god, you really have never been turned down before, have you?”

  “I’ve been turned down plenty and usually with good reason. You, beautiful Bea, are just not convincing me. You haven’t even given me a chance.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, which is why I’m not getting it. You could have cut me off by text. You didn’t.”

  God damn Ziggy. This is his fault.

  “Wouldn’t you like to get to know each other better?”

  “I don’t see the point,” I groaned. “I would be leading you on.”

  “I’m a big boy, Bea.” He paused, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “Take that as you will,” he smirked, pressing on. “I’m perfectly okay with rejection on the third, fourth, even the tenth date. If there is no spark, that’s fine, but how will we know if we don’t test it out?”

  I let out a moan and rubbed my forehead.

  “I don’t know how it usually works for you, but for me, if I’m intrigued by someone, I usually try to spend more time with them to see how we get along. That’s how it’s done, I’m pretty sure.”

  I had to laugh. I liked his sense of humour, and he wasn’t hard to get along with. Despite the slightly combative nature of our conversations to date, I had to admit I quite enjoyed his company, and…I could see his point, in some way.

  Jesus, what was I thinking?

  As if he knew I was overcoming the fog, he reached across the table and touched the back of my hand with his fingers. “I just want a chance to know you, that’s all.”

  Before I could change my mind, I drained the rest of my coffee, set the cup back in the saucer and stood.

  Jonathan looked panicked and made to stand, but I stopped him. “Don’t get up,” I blurted. “Text me the name of the bar, and maybe—maybe— I’ll pop down tonight. But don’t get any ideas or try to pick me up because I don’t know how late I’ll have to work. If I can, I’ll come and have a drink with you because you’re alright and not because I want a boyfriend.”

  “Alright,” Jonathan rolled the word on his tongue with a smirk. “I’ve been called worse, I suppose.” He chuckled, shrugging.

  “I’ve got to get back to work,” I said firmly.

  “Thanks for coming.” He smiled disarmingly, remaining seated to let me have my exit moment how I wanted it. He was too good. “Maybe I’ll see you later,” he added.

  “Maybe,” I agreed quietly. Then I left
, looking both ways on the busy pavement before I stalked back to work. I’d learned my lesson. Jonathan’s sex fog was not going to be the reason I ploughed into anyone else on this street.

  Back in my building, the lift doors opened, and Mel’s eyes shot up.

  “It wasn’t a date,” I deflected defensively before she could even speak, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I hurried past her desk, stripping off my coat as I walked through the studio. Ziggy looked up from a conversation he was having with one of the developers and assessed me as I bustled to my office.

  Mel was hot on my heels, which was hardly a shock, but I seriously could not handle an inquisition right now.

  “Did you really go meet that guy who sent you flowers?” she whisper-shouted as we entered the relative privacy of my space.

  “Ugh. Ziggy has a big mouth.” I scowled. “Yes, I really went and met him because he keeps texting me, and I wanted to tell him in person that it was never going to happen.”

  “Oh, Bea,” she groaned.

  “I don’t wanna hear it, Mel.”

  “Fine,” she conceded reluctantly. She pulled a few slips of paper from her pocket. “Your dad called, your mum called, and Charlie called.”

  “Jesus,” I grumbled. “What on earth do they all want?”

  “Well, your dad was just checking in, and I told him you were…out.”

  My eyes widened. She bloody told him I was on a date! Naturally then, the family phone tree went into effect and minutes later the vultures, AKA mum and my bloody brother, started circling.

  “You are unbelievable,” I told her as disapprovingly as I could manage.

  Mel shrugged. “Didn’t know it was a secret.”

  But she knew. Just like Ziggy had known. And now everyone else knew.

  “Do you have any business messages in that pocket of yours?” I demanded with a deep scowl.

  “No, just these.” She tossed the offending notes on my desk and retreated back to reception. I sank into my seat among the ruins of my bubble.

  “You survived, then?” Ziggy said, approaching me.