What does it mean when someone says you’re their only friend and then runs away?
The pen skipped across the page as we hit another pothole.
Was that about attraction, or just loneliness?AmIreading too much into everything?
I couldn’t stop replaying the events from earlier in the week.ThewayTeddyhad been waiting for me with tea, like she’d been watching for me through the window.Wearingher clothes, the smell of her– sweet and herbal– surrounding me all day, feeling weirdly intimate.Themoment when our fingers had brushed, and hot tea had splashed everywhere, and then she’d only fuckingsucked it off her fingers?Whatthe hell hadthatbeen about?
And the fucking hair thing.Theway she looked at me, like she … idk, wanted me???Thenthe car ride, the music, the tension so thickIcould barely breathe, fogging up the windows just from existing so close to one another…
But then she’d saidIwas her only friend and fled like she would burst into flames if she stayed a moment longer.Whichleft me wondering ifIwas just convenient company for someone who was lonely, or if she felt the same magnetic pullIdid whenever we were close.
I supposedIhad been the one to put a stop to the moment the last few times.Ithad been a gut reaction– a panic-driven instinct– but asIjournalled,Irealised it was more than that.Ididn’t like the way my relationship withTeddywas changing.Sure,Iliked that we worked well together; that she was nicer to me.Butdid she actually believe the things she’d said to me?Orwas she as caught up in these charged moments asIwas?Itfelt impossible to parse out her feelings when my own were such a jumbled mess.
The bus lurched to a stop, andIshoved my journal back into my bag.Ispent the walk steeling myself for whatever version ofTeddyI’dencounter today, letting the apprehension propel me up hills and around bends.I’dbeen getting stronger from these morning walks and all the manual labour, and it felt good to get some fresh air between the cacophony of smells on the bus and the panic-inducing proximity atGwenynen.
I foundTeddyin the small greenhouse in the veg garden, repotting seedlings with the kind of aggressive efficiency that suggested she was working through some feelings, too.Shebarely looked up whenIwalked in.Willowdid, though, leaping up from the hard floor to trot over to me.Irewarded the affection with some of my own.
“Morning,”Isaid, aiming for casual brightness. “Thanksagain for the other day.Theride home, the clothes, the tea, what you said about my work … it was really nice.”
“Rain makes everything soft,” she said without looking up from her work. “Don’tread into it.”
Alright, then.Itseemed we were back to brusque, defensiveTeddy.Iwondered if the stress of the coming weekend’s artisan market was adding to her mood – we’d agreed to repeat our successful cheese festival strategy, this time bringing plenty of sample cups and swapping the dice for a wheel people could spin, butIsupposed that had beenmystrategy, after all.Maybeshe was salty about that?
“Anyway,”Isaid, ignoring that line of thinking for now, pulling out my phone.Icould slip into work mode, too. “Ihad an idea for some contentI’dlike to film today.Ithought we could do a blind tasting, where everyone tries to guess which honey varietal is in each of your five meads?”
Teddy finally looked up, her expression sceptical. “Everyone?”
“You, me,Jen,Maggie.Makeit fun; a bit competitive.Peoplelove watching other people fail at things.”
“And you think we’ll fail?”
I grinned. “Ifany of us goes five for five,I’llbe shocked.”
“Game on,” she said, standing up and dusting her soil-covered hands on her jeans as she pushed past me out of the greenhouse.
* * *
Twenty minutes later,the four of us gathered outside the warehouse.I’dset up a folding table there, wanting to get some content outside now that the weather was cooperating, even if it was rather sweltering.Ihad five bottles, one of each mead, and five jars of honey, plus some sampling spoons.Theplan was that, one at a time, we would blind taste each honey and try to assign it to the correct mead.Andblind was the key word– there were obvious visual differences in the honey, soI’dworn a green silk scarf in my hair to use as a blindfold.Nowthat we were here, it did seem a bit at odds with the rustic farm aesthetic, but we would make do.
Jen was delighted by the whole thing, andMaggiewas surprisingly on board– she’d been reluctant to be on camera, but she sidled up next toJenwith a smile, soIwasn’t going to question it.AsIset up my tripod,Iwondered ifIwould post it all as one part or as separate parts– as a viewer,Iloathed multi-part videos, but having run the social accounts for a couple of months now,Icouldn’t deny that they worked.
Jen was up first.Iblindfolded her gently, made sure she couldn’t see, and then arranged the samples in front of her.Itold her whenIstarted recording, and she felt her way along the table to the first sample spoon.Shebrought it to her mouth and tasted it for a few seconds before confidently stating it was the original honey mead, andIglared daggers atMaggieas she started to giggle.
In the end,Jengot three out of five right.I’dworried she would be embarrassed and not want me to post the video, butIneedn’t have; she took it all in good fun.Maggiedid abysmally, somehow only getting one right afterI’dshuffled them, andJenstuck her tongue out in victory.Theywere like a couple of teenagers sometimes, those two.I’dwondered if maybe there was something between them, and watching the way theyliterallypoked at one another did nothing to dissuade my suspicions.ButI’dnever seen them actually show any honestphysicalaffection towards one another.
When it wasTeddy’sturn,Istepped up to tie the blindfold around her head, and she stiffened slightly asIgot close.
“I won’t bite,”Isaid, and she let out a puff of laughter.
“I’m not worried,” she said, her voice low, andIfelt it all through my body.
I stepped away once the knot was tight enough, then shuffled the bottles and jars on the table before replenishing the samples.Teddyfumbled around for the first one long enough thatIhad to guide her hand, trying not to let the exhilarationIfelt at the contact show on my face.Iwas on camera, after all.
LikeJen,Teddyended up with three correct guesses, which clearly infuriated her to no end.Sheactually picked up each of the jars of honey, examining them by holding them up to the light, and re-tasted them.Isaw the moment she seemed satisfied thatIhadn’t tampered with them and accepted her defeat, her face going slack and her mouth dropping into a slight frown.Icouldn’t help but chuckle, and she shot me a withering glare.
“Let’s see you do better,” she said petulantly asIstepped up to the table.
“Easy,”Isaid, putting on the bravadoIknew would be entertaining on camera, especially ifIflopped likeIwas sureIwould.
