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Em is jumping and clapping excitedly. I put the brakes on.
‘Listen, Skippy, nothing may happen – and not a word to Tim or Jack,’ I threaten, before I leave the kitchen and head out of the front door.
Ariella is cooking when I get back.
‘You’re early. I’m playing with some polenta and this one’s unpredictable. I’m wishing both of us luck,’ she says with a laugh as she pulls a frightened face at me. ‘Everything okay?’
The thoughts unfold quickly. Goodness, she’s stunning. She turns her back to me with her hair messily piled on her head, exposing her long, elegant neck. Her T-shirt is gathered slightly at the base of her spine, arching over the leggings that cover her cute bottom, giving way to her long, lean legs. The image of her in that white dress pops up. I clear it quickly. I’m supposed to be responding to her question.
‘Yeah. Went to see Jack.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’ll live. We might need to give up the study.’
‘Of course!’ She turns around and smiles as she wipes her brow with the back of her hand. ‘Hi,’ she greets, looking happy to see me.
If we were together, that ‘hi’ would have ended with a quick welcome kiss on the lips. It’s like I am seeing her for the first time. She is gorgeous.
‘Hi.’ I want to get the matter at hand out of the way, so I sit at the kitchen island. ‘I have some news…’
Ariella slings a tea towel over her shoulder to attention.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nicole and I ended things yesterday.’
‘Poor Nicole. Is she okay?’
Poor Nicole?!
‘Ariella, Nicole can be a little spiteful.’
‘I did immediately wonder how you’re not missing a limb.’ She chuckles.
‘And she might say things to people that aren’t true. She’ll definitely come after me, but she may come after you too, so just don’t worry – okay?’ I chicken out. I don’t want tonight ruined.
‘Okay.’ She smiles, turning back to the stove.
That’s it?
‘Thanks, Caleb,’ she calls back.
That was the start to a torturous week. I often wished I hadn’t had the conversation with Em, because I basically started stalking Ariella at home and indulged in every smile, frown, walk, stray hair strand and movement she made. I found myself touching her even when I didn’t need to, and standing closer than normal. If she noticed, she didn’t let on.
I did, however, note that, for someone who didn’t like being touched by others, we touched each other an awful lot. She was always moving my hips out of the way in the kitchen, so I placed myself in her way regularly. She’d also smack my hand away if I tried to steal stuff from the pan while she was cooking. I made sure those incidents went up in frequency too.
Even when we watchedThe Sopranos, she’d lean into me on the couch, letting our shoulders touch. I tested the waters, put my arm over her shoulders and prepared to get a questioning look. Instead, she snuggled into me as she kept her eyes on the TV. Not that it lasted; she was asleep in seconds. She even rubbed some fake pain I made up in my right shoulder when I asked her to, one night after I’d been training those rats I call students. The fact that I had missed all of this, all this time, was unbelievable to me. Armed with this newfound information, I consulted the great oracle, Em.
How do I tell her I like her?
Make dinner. Dim the lights. Light candles. Buy flowers.
That crap works for you?
Rude.
What does Tim do to get some action?
