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But Alice isn’t Pippa. Mice are nothing like butterflies.
But does Alice truly understand what a life with me would be like? Is she willing to give up on something she hasn’t even considered, all in the name of love?
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Alice
It’s not prize-winning literature, but what can you expect? I haven’t written anything since school, so I’m pretty pleased I managed to come up with anything at all. And I don’t know where the words came from; they just appeared in my head, as so many words do, and I wrote them down.
When I read it back, I almost laughed at how obvious it was. The prince is Owen, the little mouse is me, and the butterfly lady is Pippa.
Writing is new to me, and I know next to nothing about the craft, but Owen’s advice has stuck in my head: Write what you know. Maybe that’s why this story came out. Maybe it was the only way I could make sense of my feelings for Owen.
Because I know this isn’t just about the wedding anymore.
I know I want to be with him. I want to be more than a friend. I’m just scared he won’t feel the same, or that we’re such opposites that he’d never consider being with someone who has no control over what they say, is messy, disorganised, has no routine, and generally goes from one ridiculous situation to another.
I want to say I’ve been here before.
But I haven’t. Not really.
There’ve been guys who I genuinely liked, guys I thought could become something more than a crush or attraction, but nothing ever lasted long enough to grow into something deeper. They always bailed before any feelings got involved.
Owen is still here, and I think that’s because there were never any expectations between us. We started this simply trying to convince a bunch of people at a wedding that we’re in love, and somewhere along the way, unknowingly and completely blindly, I actually fell for him.
When I was younger, I thought love would be instant. A glance across a crowded room. Sparks. Passion. Immediate certainty.
This hasn’t been like that at all.
The attraction was there, absolutely, but the second I thought Owen was in a relationship and gay, I relaxed. Let my guard down. Accepted that he was off limits.
I’ve worked with him for over a year, chatting in the staffroom about whether the fridge light turns off when you close the door or where the word chinwag came from, never realising he was The One. My Romeo. The man I’d eventually fall in love with.
I’ve no idea if he feels the same.
What if he doesn’t?
My stomach twists, and that’s when I realise I can’t tell him. Because if I do and he doesn’t feel the same, then our friendship will be over. There’s no way I can hide behind friendship after that, no way I could shove these feelings into a neat little box while seeing him every day at work.
He’s said so many times that he isn’t looking for a relationship, isn’t looking to settle down.
But what happens when love finds you?
If my racing thoughts and fears weren’t enough to propel me through the morning rush, then Jamal getting the call that his wife had gone into labour was.
After marching around the store with his hands in the air, wide-eyed and grinning like a lunatic while declaring, “This is it, folks. I’m about to become a father!” Taylor finally told him to get going before he missed the birth completely.
The customers were sweet about it for all of two seconds, patting him on the back and wishing him good luck, but as soon as he left, their kitchen brains switched straight back on, and suddenly we were a staff member short.
Which meant I missed my twelve o’clock lunch.
Then I started wondering whether fate had dealt me a good hand and maybe not seeing Owen at lunch was a good thing.
I might have completely embarrassed myself with the story I gave him, and he probably read it thinking, Oh my God, what the hell?
It’s after two by the time Dale, who’s been drafted in to cover Jamal, finally arrives and I get to take my lunch.
Hovering outside Owen’s office, the urge to knock on the door, walk in, and tell him how I feel is so strong that my hand is actually lifted towards the wood.
