Chapter Text
“Hi, I’m sorry… may I sit here?” Fred lifted his eyes from his text book at the same time as Blythe did. He blinked, looked at his friend. It was his call, really. He wasn’t the one shooing away every single person on campus. And off.
“Sure, go ahead,” Blythe said, picking up his mess on one side. Being nice as polite as he always was. Huh. Should have taken that into account.
“I’m sorry, it’s just all the tables are taken... I won’t bother you guys,” the girl said as she sat down, pulling a book out of her bag. Blonde and overall pretty, her clothes were of neutral colors and great taste. At least in his opinion. Simple, minimal, so nice. She looked kind and quiet as well… and somewhat shy?
“I’m Fred. This is Blythe, even if he doesn’t look like it. And you are?” he finally asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. Because if Blythe was allowing a girl to sit with them, he had to catch her name. She could be somehow a keeper, another friend for Blythe. And they could use to hang out with more people since he always refused to go out with him on the weekends.
“Ella Weiss,” she said. “Is your name actually Blythe?”
“Last name. Name’s Gilbert,” he mumbled, before going back to his book. So long for making a new friend.
“Forgive him, please. He’s a lonely soul. Which I should be drilling with anatomy questions,” he explained. Ella raised her eyebrows, nodded and opened her book. Clearly she also had studying to do. He glimpsed at the cover. Ah. Corbusier. “Blythe, name the kind of tissues you can find in the spleen and their functions.”
And so they carried on for a while, the girl just sitting quietly reading her book, small frown in her forehead, absent-mindedly unrolling the edges of the paper coffee cup after she finished it. Blythe, of course, was oblivious about her, after having surprised him by allowing her to share the table. Ignoring her as he did with every single female in the campus. He really needed to understand who the hell could have broken his heart in such a way for him to be just this plain depressed. Or drag him to the counselor. That could help.
“Look, Fred, I’m just tired. Can we just stop and resume in a bit? I can go get some more coffee and then we go over the glands.”
“You’re the one who’s getting behind, not me.”
“I take three more classes than you do. I’m not getting behind, I’m getting ahead.”
“Both can be simultaneous. But ok, let’s leave the glands for later,” he finally conceded. Blythe stood up and went back to the counter. He turned to look at her again. Even if he was wrong about Blythe talking to another human that wasn’t a teacher… There was something intriguing about her calm demeanour. “So, you’re into modern architecture?” She looked at him, surprised. She cleared her throat.
“Well the theory behind it is kind of fascinating, but for all I want, I just can’t swallow the aesthetics. So cold and impersonal,” she replied. He nodded, her eyes still on his. “What’s up with your friend?”
“I told you. Sad, lonely soul,” he replied, sitting back on his chair. What Blythe’s personal history was he actually had no idea, because there was no one more reserved than him, apparently. Even if he did, he wouldn’t mention it to some strange girl. Ella Weiss. Architecture student who didn’t get modern architecture but embraced minimalist clothing. She swallowed. “About your aesthetics. Maybe it’s a matter of perspective?”
“How so?”
“They’re beautiful not because they’re classical or have embellishments, but because of their simplicity and practicality. Much like your clothes, I would dare say, just… keeping in line with their decade” he commented. She blushed and he bit his lips. Damn. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression. “I’m not hitting on you, don’t worry,” he said kindly, smiling slightly. “I’m just saying, maybe you could change your perspective to gain some understanding. It might be closer than you think,” he proposed, just as Gilbert came back with a tray. “Blythe, you’re totally mean! No sugar? No cream?”
“You were having black coffee an hour ago, I don’t read minds,” his friend replied. “Here, I brought you one as well, Ella. And some cookies, I figured someone might be hungry.”
“Thank you,” she replied and Blythe, of course, brushed it off and went back to his book. She looked at him again. Blushing again. The cookies were great. They resumed the study, probably staying more than necessary in the brain, until she packed back her book. She didn’t get up, though, indecisive.
“Thank you for sharing your table, guys. And the coffee and cookie, Gilbert.”
“Not a problem,” he said, with a polite smile that gave nothing away. Maybe just a slight nostalgia.
“I really should take off… I guess I’ll see you around?” she said, but still lingered. He tapped his fingers on his tight, debating if this was even a good idea. He didn’t want any distractions right now, but she seemed interesting. And Blythe didn’t seem completely put off by her. Maybe they could be friends? She seemed like a really nice girl, he just had to be upfront with her if she continued with this blushes and stealing glances business. He didn’t want her hurt.
“Sure thing,” Blythe replied. Still formal and detached, but actually talking. She looked briefly at him and he knew he was running out of time. The chances of them meeting her again by chance were slim at best. She stood up.
“Ella- wait,” he said, getting up as well. She looked at him, the slightest blush in her cheeks again.
“Yes, Fred?”
“Could I… Could we have your number? So we can actually see you around some time?” making it in plural was the safest choice. She had to be able to read in between the lines, right?
“Oh… sure,” she said, and she scrambled to look for a piece of paper. Blythe just pushed his colour-coded post-its across the table with his pen. “Thanks.” she wrote quickly, her penmanship even and secure. “So.. I guess I’ll hear from you guys?”
“Absolutely,” he replied. Blythe nodded as well and she left, after nodding slightly and giving them a small smile. He looked as she walked out quickly, watching her watch. She had dragged on her reading just to be with them. Waiting for any move. That was as good as it was bad.
“Fred.”
“What?”
“I’ve been calling you for a minute,” Blythe said. He looked at him. Of course he was.
“I’m sorry. Just lost in thought.”
“Are you calling her back?”
“Of course I am. I asked for her phone. And you didn’t roll like a hedgehog when she was around, that’s an improvement. She intrigues me.”
“How so? It’s pretty evident, she likes you,” Gilbert pointed.
“I noticed that. But not what I mean. There’s something about her that I’m curious about. Anyway, she seems kind, and we could use a friend, don’t you think?”
“Does it even matter?”
“It doesn’t, of course. But you need to talk with more people, Blythe. It’s not healthy the way you’re studying. And if you definitely don’t want to come out with me, maybe we can at least have a friend to come over.”
“So you’re not asking her out?” Blythe asked, clearly confused.
“Of course I’m not. I told you I want to concentrate on my studies. I stand by that. I’ll just have to be clear and see if it’s acceptable for her to know that nothing is going to happen between us.”
“You’re mental.”
“And you could use to be straightforward once in a while,” he replied and saw how Blythe was about to say something and shook his head sadly. Add this to his mysteries now, he had apparently hit a nerve.
“That I could,” Blythe commented in a low voice before looking down to his book. His eyebrows knit together, his eyes steady, clearly not reading anything.
“Blythe,” he called his friend as he organized his desk.
“Huh?”
“Ella is coming to study. Calculus 1,” he informed. They had had coffee a couple of times with her over the past few weeks, the nice September weather giving way to the first small snowfalls of November. Blythe even talked to her now. Maybe constancy was the trick to get through his thick skull? He had been able just because they had been assigned as roommates in the dorms and the hate towards the whole place just brought them together. And his sheer curiosity about the sad looking boy from PEI.
“That’s fine. She’s taking it with Page? She mentioned something the other day.”
“Yes. And we can help her with the derivatives, Page is apparently not great at explaining.”
“So you’re inviting her in now? To this shitty place? Are you sure you don’t want to date the girl?”
“Do you want to date her? Go ahead. Please,” Blythe raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. He should know better than to mention dating and Gilbert Blythe in one sentence. The eyebrow stayed up and he sighed before explaining. “She’s interesting to talk to. And somehow seems to put up with you. And she needs help with math.”
“I’m not hard to put up with.”
“Gilbert, stop telling lies to yourself. I don’t know how you were before, but you’re not a walk in the park right now,” Fred said. Gilbert sighed. “I just want you to know…”
“That you’re here to talk,” his friend recited. Goodness, there was no one more stubborn than Gilbert Blythe. It just was not possible. “I know that. I do. I don’t want to talk. Now, let me read?” And with that, he was shutted off. Again. One day he would get through Bythe and help him with whatever was going on in his mind.
Ella was punctual that afternoon. Maybe overly punctual. As if she had been standing out of the door. Her German family coming through, maybe? She was once again dressed in neutral colours, clean lines, practical and so nice at the same time. She was there, smiling, slight blush on her cheeks, honey eyes all dilated, hair blond down to her shoulders. He greeted her smiling and cursed inside. She was ignoring obliviously everything he was doing to make it clear he was not interested. Because she had to be noticing, she wasn’t stupid.
They studied, Blythe explained to both of them everything because apparently they just didn’t have brains able to do that kind of abstract thinking and when he noticed her stealing one more glance at him he took the decision. There was absolutely no point in leading her on and the best thing he could do for her was to be upfront if she wasn’t going to catch up with any other signal. He waited until she was packing back before offering.
“Can I walk you out?” he said. Blythe frowned at him but she was all big doe eyes again.
“Sure,” she smiled. They walked in silence, the halls relatively quiet at that time of night.
“Look, Ella, I need to be honest with you,” he said, looking at her. She nodded, a slight line appearing in between her eyebrows. The same one she had when she was concentrating hard on something she couldn’t quite grasp. He inhaled deeply. He really didn’t want to hurt her, but it was just going to be worse if he didn’t do it now. “I am not looking to date anyone right now and I don’t want you to get hurt by thinking I’m leading you on. You’re attractive, you’re fun, you’re interesting. I am sure you can find someone to go out with. It just won’t be me.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, her cheeks even more flushed than before. It even looked cute, in its own way.
“Because I can tell I somehow pose some interest for you in that regard and I’m not willing to let it grow. There is no use. And there is no need for anyone to get hurt. I’m all about talking with you, because I genuinely think you’re great, but I am not going to date you and I don’t want you to believe that will happen.”
“So you’re just telling me this as a warning?” she asked, looking at him in the eye. The small frown persistent, her honey eyes stern. He really hoped she wasn’t offended. It wasn’t his intention.
“I don’t want you to misinterpret anything. I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on. That anything I do has a second motive. I am a very direct person, I don’t have second motives. Don’t see the point. So nothing has it,” he explained. She nodded, her eyes still in his, and then turned her sight to the floor. It wouldn’t move from there. He cursed mentally again and debated if touching her arm in a comforting manner would give a totally wrong impression. He was pretty sure it would. He kept his hands to himself.
“So that’s it?” she asked after a moment in which neither talked.
“Unless you want to keep coming just to study, to talk and to drink coffee with Gilbert and me, maybe play boardgames… that’s it. I have zero intention of getting you hurt,” he explained. Because he already valued her too much to get her hurt.
“I like studying with you guys,” she said, finally looking back at him. The blush still in her cheeks, her eyes bright with determination. She wasn’t going to let go and he didn’t know what to think of this.
“This is not going to change, Ella. I’m not dating. It’s not a dare. Nothing to see here, not necessary to save me from anything. I don’t have any traumas for you to cure. I’m just not interested right now and want to focus on my studies for a few years.”
“Ok,” she said, her voice tight, daring. Her eyes still on his. They were by the main door then, standing in front of each other. He knew, if he were any other guy, he would have it very easy. She was an open book. A trusting, eager open book any git could easily take benefit from. But he had made a decision and she didn’t interest him enough to break it, and he would never take advantage of her, or anyone else, for that matter, that way. But she did interest him enough not to go the other way, have casual sex and then leave her. And break her. Probably.
“Ella…” he knew his voice was more tense and not as calm and nice as it had been. But he needed her to take him seriously.
“You were clear enough, Fred. If I want to willingly get into the lion’s mouth, that’s just my problem, isn’t it?” she said, crossing her arms. Great . Defensive. He hadn’t been sure of how this conversation was going to turn out, but… Well, this was a very likely scenario, if he was honest.
“That would be true,” he conceded, trying to go back to the kind voice. It would probably work better. He didn’t want her defensive, he just wanted her to know there was no interest from his part. “As long as you’re conscious of what it implies.”
“Then just allow me to make the decision,” she said, looking up at him. Her voice still daring. And he did want to keep seeing her. He had done what he could and he just couldn’t take decisions from her. Not if she already knew what was and was not available. He nodded slightly. She swallowed. “So, study again… what do you say about Thursday?”
“That’s fine. See you here again?”
“Absolutely,” she said, suddenly grinning widely and uncrossing her arms. He nodded again.
“Ella…”
“I know. You’re not interested. Not going to happen. If I come, it is because I know you’ll only be my friend.”
“Ok. I’m glad it’s clear.”
“I’ll see you around, Fred,” she added before opening the door and going out. He stood there, watching as she walked into the night. He wasn’t really sure about any of this, but the whole situation was more his fault than anything else and he would just have to get through with it.
After a few months they just decided to confront the conclusion they had arrived at just two weeks into living in the dorms. They needed a place. For the two of them. Each was with their families for Christmas (how was Blythe’s family even like? Siblings? Grumpy grandad?) but they still kept texting, sending random links to listings of apartments. Ella kept texting as well and he humored her but tried to keep it cool, not quite relaxing even if she said she was finally over him. He didn’t believe her, but she was good for Blythe.
Blythe found the winning ad, of course. Because he was even more eager than him to get out of the dorm from hell, he couldn’t quite come back to his parents for the weekend. So they booked an appointment and went to see the flat the first day they could, renting a temporary room until they could see the place in person.
The apartment was nothing special. The kitchen was as old as his grandma’s, the bedrooms had a decent enough looking carpet and there was space in the main room that could fit a table and a couple of sofas. The paint was not peeling, bathroom was working and there wasn’t anything that seemed to indicate bedbugs, rats or an ancient murder. It was quite perfect for them.
Ella, of course, couldn’t miss the trip to IKEA. They rented a reasonably sized U-haul and went the three of them, with her making suggestions as to how to decorate the place to make it more “them”. To which Blythe replied it was easy: add three Billy bookcases in a row and fill them with obnoxious medical books. Done. He laughed at his comment. It was quite true. He just commented they needed to add a couple of board games so they didn’t die of boredom.
But they had a great time and Blythe even seemed to somehow be more relaxed than what he had been in the previous five months. When Ella said goodbye later that night (apparently she was the most competent of the three of them to figure out printed instructions) they sat down on their new sofa. The kitchen kind of organized, the half-eaten frozen pizza on the counter, their dirty new glasses in the kitchen sink.
“This is good,” Blythe commented at last.
“How so, good?” He turned to look at him. He had a cider on his hand and looked at ease, for once. It was a good change and it made him smile.
“It feels like a fresh start.”
“Wasn’t coming to Toronto from your island a fresh start?”
“That was… different.” He looked at him. Blythe seemed somehow different than in the months before they went on winter break. Maybe something had changed? Or just finding himself back in Toronto had done the trick?
“Blythe…”
“Look, Fred, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I really think you should. It is amazing, but we’ve been living together for almost six months and I know absolutely nothing about you other than your interest in medicine and some of the music you listen to.”
“I really think you shouldn’t meddle.”
“I really think I should meddle more. You’re miserable. You’ve been miserable since you came here and probably longer” Blythe stood up and left the room. He followed him. “You can’t keep escaping. It’s not healthy and it won’t take you anywhere. Not if the thing you’re escaping from is inside you. So what is it, Blythe. Spill. It’s not like I will tell. I just want you to feel better.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” His voice was, of course, tense and clipped. Guarded. As seemed to be the definition of Gilbert Blythe.
“Blythe, do you have any idea of how much I care about you? It makes no sense, because you’re just lousy to be around, but right now, you’re my closest friend and I am honestly worried about you. I tried to let it go, but you’re clearly not improving, so time won’t do it. Why don’t you allow yourself a little respite? You do deserve it, you know?”
“I can’t lose control, Fred,” he admitted. And Fred knew he was finally letting go. Some.
“Yes, you can. We can get you help if you need it, I can just listen if that’s what you want. It’s not like I’ll tell anything around. But whatever is in your head will keep haunting you until you solve it, and you already know that,” he insisted, sitting on the bed. Blythe looked at him from the window. There was a cherry tree outside, the tiniest buds just beginning to appear. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it, apparently. “What’s with the cherry tree?”
“There was one just outside her window,” Gilbert admitted, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. Her window? His mother’s? Sister? Girlfriend? He leaned more towards girlfriend, because he clearly had issues with women their age. It was the first time he made any reference to the girl. But it could be the mother as well. He had some inner sadness that couldn’t quite be all for an ex. “She called it Snow Queen. It was most nice in the spring, so full of blossoms.”
“Who called it that?”
“Anne did.” And for the first time, he heard a gentle undertone in Blythe’s voice. Who was she?
“Do you want to talk about her?” he asked carefully. Who the hell was this Anne?
“There’s not much to say,” Blythe replied, crossing his arms and holding himself tightly.
“There’s a whole world of things to say, apparently. I will just take whatever you want to give.”
“She doesn’t want me in her life anymore. That’s all there is to it.”
“Who is she?”
“She is… was… Fuck, she’s just the girl I’ve loved for years. My best friend… Just everything.”
“What happened?”
“I did. I screwed up. She wouldn’t allow me to explain. That’s all there is to it.”
“Gilbert, that can’t be all,” he said softly, walking to his friend. There had to be much more to this story.
“Well I could give you all the gruesome details, but…” Gilbert said, making some gesture. Fred looked at him, how the tears were streaming down his face.
In all those months, Gilbert Blythe had looked miserable and quiet every single day. In an almost permanent bad mood. An obsession with study that couldn’t be healthy. He slept very, very poorly (and he had a first account knowledge of this since they actually shared a room for months). But he had never cried. He hugged him as he finally let go, holding him as he sobbed. Once he started, he didn’t seem able to stop, crying as he told him everything about a red haired girl who would just not listen to anything he had to say after she had somehow convinced him, in what in retrospective seemed like an almost delusional drunken state, to pursue and date a girl she hated.
They went to bed very, very late. Around four in the morning. After Fred had cooked him some broth to keep him hydrated and had made Gilbert drink half the pot. After Gilbert had recounted every single story about his life. About this mysterious girl. About the death of his mother. The long illness of his father. And after he had tried to convince him to please go and see the counselor of the university or a psychologist or a psychiatrist or someone, but he needed to get that anxiety controlled and those problems solved and for all he wanted, he still didn’t have the ability to do so.
That night, the first one they shared in the apartment where they would live for almost five years, was a most fateful one for their friendship. He had known, since the moment he had met Gilbert and his mop of unruly curls, his sad hazel eyes, that they would be friends. But that night in particular, he knew they were closer to becoming family. And Gilbert seemed to sense it, too.
The following days and weeks it was as if a dam was broken and suddenly he kept throwing him and Ella random bits of information about the small town he came from. About his father’s love of the Beatles. About his brother and his wife. About everything. And it seemed to help, at least in the beginning, and he thought that maybe, just maybe Blythe didn’t really need to go to therapy and the good crying he’d had was enough.
One thing that was very clear from the second week of their independent cohabitation was that Blythe was useless in the kitchen. He could fix anything. He could clean and leave everything sterile. He couldn’t boil an egg. Which had become evident when he had come into the apartment, smoke detector on, a nasty smell from the kitchen and Gilbert trying to get the smoke out the open window.
He tried to teach him at first. They were useful life skills. His sister-in-law sent him Cooking basics for dummies and How to feed yourself. It didn’t work and the landlord was asking if they were doing something weird, with all the times the fire alarm was being set off. Since then, duties had been tacitly distributed: he never washed any pot again and the closest Blythe got to cooking was to chop something.
Eventually they managed a good rhythm between them that made Ella laugh when she visited, telling them they would look cute as a couple. They laughed it off. Then she tried to help with dinner as well, the smoke alarm was set off. She was relegated to washing duties after he shooed her and Blythe off to the living room before they burnt the building down. He could hear them talking and Blythe actually laughing and he felt that, somehow, this could work. Ella in their lives. Blythe happy. He as well.
If only things like this could last forever.
It was about two weeks into the fall term when Blythe received the message. He still had the tan he had gained over the summer, when they went volunteering to the Caribbean. His eyes looked sadder than anything else he had seen. And he had thought the summer away had done them good. When they came back to the apartment they felt like arriving home. Blythe’s unused guitar in a corner, his cooking utensils carefully organized. New spices in the bags.
“What’s now, Blythe? What with Anne? Or someone in your family?” he asked, when it was evident he was not volunteering the information. Ella looked at them. They were seated on the sofa, reviewing the suggested reading for next week’s class, and she was already working on a model on their dining table.
“She’s found a boyfriend,” he replied, his voice eerily quiet. As if he couldn’t quite believe it.
“Fuck,” he said before even thinking. Because he could see how this would make him spiral back down.
“Who’s Anne?” Ella asked from the table, gluing tiny trees. While Blythe had been open with information about mostly everything since the spring, he still had to talk about Anne, mysterious Anne, in front of Ella.
“Later, Ella,” he told her. The last thing Blythe needed right now was to explain everything.
“Anne is… someone back in PEI,” he replied anyway. And he decided to keep out. He stood up and went to the kitchen to start dinner as he heard the conversation unfold.
“The reason you just refuse to date?”
“That would be her.”
“And she’s dating?”
“She seems to be able to move on quicker than I am.”
“That’s fucked up.” It was.
One afternoon he found himself having coffee with Ella in a tiny coffee shop. He tried to avoid that kind of situation, of the two of them going together without Blythe or someone else. He was still convinced Ella kept having hopes and he still was very much decided about not dating her. Or anyone else, for that matter. He went out whenever he needed to blow off steam, but it hadn’t been anything serious and he knew he wouldn’t see them again. Blythe had thrown him a hard eye. He had told him they had known what they were getting themselves into and it was consensual.
But that November afternoon it was just the two of them. Blythe had bailed at the last minute and he hated him for it. Even if he could get it and not blame him at all. It was his first appointment with the counselor they had tricked him into seeing and the guy was running late.
“You know you can relax, Fred,” she said after a while. He nodded, looking quickly around. He caught sight of Steve Clayton some tables down. Interesting. He had just mentioned a couple of weeks back how he thought “that architecture friend of theirs” seemed interesting and nice.
“I do know.”
“It’s not weird we’re getting coffee. We’re friends, right?” she said, looking at him. He nodded. “Friends go to have coffee. I’m not reading anything into this.”
“Ok,” he finally said. He had to trust her some. “So, how was that project you had to present on Tuesday?”
“Good! The input you guys gave me really made the whole difference,” she explained, and soon they were deep in conversation and he found himself not needing Blythe as a buffer as much as he had though initially. Maybe Ella really was over him and he was just paranoid. He kept feeling Steve’s eyes on them.
“So, Ella…” he said after a while. Because he was not stupid and knew Steve was somehow attracted to Ella. Which wasn’t hard: she was pretty and so much more. He had noticed that the day he met her. She looked at him, intrigued. “Do you want to play something?”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Of course I am,” he said, smiling. She nodded. “Don’t turn now, but go to the washroom and discreetly look for the guy in the red hoodie. Tell me what you think of him later. You want another coffee?”
He looked as she got up and walked to the back of the coffee shop. He ordered the coffees while she was gone and waited patiently, checking his phone. There was a message from Blythe: he was on the way and could meet them. He texted back: he wouldn’t be long now, and Ella would probably be otherwise engaged. He could wait for him outside for a bit if he wanted. She came back and sat back, again in the chair opposite to him. He never sat next to her.
“So?”
“You find him attractive?”
“Well…” she seemed undecided, as if somehow she could hurt his feelings.
“Ella, you just have to be honest, here,” he said kindly, leaning over and smiling at her. She looked at him. “I won’t feel bad. We’ve established this: we’re not going out, so I wouldn’t feel jealous. Even if we were going out I wouldn’t be. I’m just curious.”
“Well… he is kind of cute. I like his eyes,” she accepted.
“He’s Steve Clayton. We share a class with him. Epidemiology and Biostatistics, which of course I hate and Blythe loves. Clayton is actually pretty clever and has some freaky sense to see the relationship between things. Weird. But kind of amazing.”
“So?” she asked, leaning forward as well, speaking in the same conspiratorial tone of voice he was using.
“He likes you,” he whispered, winking at her. He felt Steve’s eyes on them.
“He doesn’t!” she said, leaning back and laughing as if the whole endeavour was ridiculous.
“He totally does. And if you’re half interested, I can present him to you and you would have a date for the weekend.”
“Would you want that?” Ella asked, looking at him straight in the eyes and leaning forward again. Not hopeful. But questioning. He didn’t waver.
“Only if you like him or are curious enough to try. No need to lead a guy on if you have no interest in him.”
“So you wouldn’t mind me dating?” she asked, skeptical, as if it was a rhetorical question.
“Why on earth would I mind, Ella? Coming back to the original point: we’re not dating, we are not going to date, and I want you to meet someone and be happy. You deserve that,” he said, smiling at her. She frowned. “And Steve is bright, kind, he has a great sense of humour and you like his eyes.”
“You do know it doesn’t work like that, right?” she almost whispered. He felt something inside him and sighed. He didn’t want to hurt her. He had been clear.
“I do,” he finally said.
“But you would rather I give it a chance?”
“You’re just not going to meet anyone if you just hang out with Blythe and with me,” he admitted. And he did worry about her. Because she was really one of the kindest persons he had ever met and it seemed like she only ever spent time with the two of them or two other friends.
“Maybe I don’t need to meet anyone else.”
“You can’t be seriously coming back to this,” he said, taking a deep breath and leaning back on his chair. This could become tiring. She looked at him, defiant. “And I’m not mocking you.”
“I know you aren’t. You have this shitty noble cause of commiting to your studies.”
“I do, and I am not letting it go,” he replied, his tone serious. She leaned back again, apparently putting as much distance between them as possible. Great.
“Ok. Set me up with him, then.” He frowned at her. “I’m serious, Fred. If this… Steve Clayton is interested, hell, why not give him a chance?”
“Ella, you’re not being serious here.” Because now she was toying.
“Oh, but I am,” she said, smiling sadly. He nodded. He knew what she was doing and he wasn’t going to fall for it.
“You know it’s mean going out with him if you’re not really interested and only want to make a point, right?” he said, looking pointedly at her. She nodded. “It’s not fair to him.”
“I just want to know him and see what happens. Keep an open mind,” she said, her practical, problem solving voice kicking in. He nodded, wanting to believe her. “So?”
“Hey, Steve!” he called his classmate. He looked up from his book. “Come here, mate,” he invited him over. He stood up and walked over to their table. “This is Ella. Ella, meet Steve. I think you guys would get along pretty well. Now, I’ll leave you to it. Blythe is waiting for me outside.”
Ella going out with Steve was something that apparently was intense, but relatively short lived. She didn’t give him many details and he didn’t try to dig them out of Blythe, who he knew had the whole story. It was her privacy, after all. Steve didn’t talk to him anymore. He decided not to suggest anything else regarding Ella’s dating life unless he decided to ask her out, something he still didn’t see coming. He kept his mouth shut.
After her breakup, she started to hang out more and more in the apartment. Blythe welcomed her and they grew impossibly closer. He just stood as a witness of the blossoming friendship. He still talked with Ella, yes. It just wasn’t quite as it had been, as if she had finally got over him. Which was what he had wanted for the past year and a half, since they had met her. But he couldn’t shake the feeling this was wrong.
Ella was more distant. Detached. A sharpness in her voice that hadn’t been there. And it confused him, because he saw no reason to believe that it was just a defense mechanism from her part. He thought it way more probable she just blamed him for how everything with Steve had turned out. And while he wouldn’t say he had no blame in the whole ordeal, he also wasn’t comfortable with the situation.
Blythe, on the other hand, had managed to overcome most of his funk after he started seeing the counselor of the university, and then a psychologist, after he lost a bet that had been rigged from the beginning. It had been excellent teamwork between Ella and him, and by the time Blythe had realized how he had been set up, he had already come to terms with how the therapy was actually helping him and had continued going. He wondered in silence how much else he could manage to accomplish with Ella by his side. He shook his head to disperse the thought. He didn’t want to go down there. Not yet, anyway.
“Freddie,” he heard. Blythe was washing the dinner dishes as he was putting away the sriracha sauce they had used for the noodle soup, completely absorbed in his thoughts. The soup had helped warm them up after being drenched in a freezing spring rain.
“Yup,” he replied, not turning to see his friend. Because he knew by now when Gilbert Blythe meant business and he wasn’t looking forward to that. He decided to keep clearing the counter instead.
“You’re ok?”
“Gilbert Blythe is asking me if I’m ok?”
“I can see the irony. Are you?”
“Never better, Blythe,” he replied, smiling, as he closed the cabinet. He was not telling him about his musings regarding Ella. About how he couldn’t take out of his mind the way she spoke when she explained her latest project to them or told Gilbert to basically stop being an idiot. He would reach a conclusion when it was time and he just wouldn’t push it. Better to deflect the attention. “So, Christine Stuart? I think that’s a much more interesting subject.”
“It is not. It’s just Ella trying to set me up with someone, which I already told her not to do. It won’t work.”
“Still thinking about Anne?” he asked as he reclined on the counter. Blythe kept washing.
“It’s not that I consciously think of her. It’s more like there’s no space for anyone else. If it’s not her, it’s no one.”
“That’s pretty radical, you know? Want some tea?”
“Sure. I’m not saying it’s not. Look, if at any point I feel ready for dating, I will. And you can’t really be saying anything, Mr. I-want-to-focus-on-my-study,” Blythe replied. He huffed and went to grab the kettle, stealing the water from the tap. “Hey!”
“You said you wanted tea. And I do date.”
“You do one night stands. Very different, Wright.”
“Works for them, works for me, they have even learnt not to walk around in their undies,” he said, winking. Blythe shook his head as he left another pot to dry. They stayed in silence, hearing the water going down the drain, the clank of the dishes and the rumor of the heating kettle.
“You do know that just keeps hurting Ella?” Blythe asked in the end, looking at him with hard eyes, a sudsy sponge in his hand. Deep down, he knew what Blythe said to be true and the reason he never did it when she was around.
“Ella knows I’m not really dating anyone,” he said, dropping his previous teasing tone. Blythe’s stern stare continued on him. “And I have zero intention of dating her. Which she already knows. I’ve been more than clear, Blythe. I can’t stop living my life for something I don’t want or see any future in. She shouldn’t either. What I have to offer now is just not something she would take. And I wouldn’t offer it to her, come to that.”
“But you think it is right to offer it to random people you meet?” he insisted, going back to washing.
“They know exactly what they’re getting into. I don’t lie,” he explained. “If they don’t want it, I don’t blame them. I don’t pressure. I don’t even try to get them to believe there will be something else just to get what I want. You know me, I lay the terms pretty plainly.”
“That’s just… disgusting, in a way.”
“It is not.” The water boiling, he poured it over the cups he had prepared.
“So why wouldn’t you offer that to Ella? You know, if it’s as simple as you say. Maybe she would just take that.”
“You know as well as I do that she would never go for it. She wants a stable partner that is committed to her and, right now, the only thing I’m committed about is getting through this semester of hell. Now, leading her on making her believe I want that just to have sex with her, that would be unfair.”
“She just wants you, you know?” Blythe insisted, rinsing the sponge and setting it to dry.
“I do, Blythe. I’m not stupid. It just won’t work right now and I won’t hurt her feelings by promising something that is not real. I’m not even sure about being interested in her in that way, to be honest.”
“Now you’re just oblivious,” Blythe replied as he dried his hands. The kitchen was organized and clean.
“I am not. I find her interesting. She’s attractive. She’s smart. I do get it. I just… There’s nothing there, Blythe. I don’t feel it,” he explained, extending a cup to his friend. Even if there was the way she looked sometimes. He reclined on the counter in front of him and they drank in silence.
“You’re just pissed because she’s finally moving on, aren’t you?”
“What are you saying?” she could be moving on. That was one of his theories. Or she could be blaming him. Or she could have that new attitude as a defense mechanism that would mean just the opposite of what Blythe was saying.
“She’s behaving differently with you. Since she broke up with Steve. Not like she used to when she was dating him, but neither as she was before that. I’ve noticed, so I’m convinced you have as well.”
“That could be for any number of reasons. And if she really got over me, that’s fantastic,” he said.
“Yeah, right. Keep telling that to yourself.”
“Blythe, contrary to what you seem to think… I do care about her. A lot. But that’s different than saying I want to initiate a romantic relationship with her. Two different things. And I don’t want to hurt her by going with something that’s not real. She might hurt right now. Yes. I wish she didn’t. But me being with her wouldn’t solve any problem and would create several others, and then she would end even more hurt. Believe me, it’s not worth it.”
The thing with Gilbert Blythe, he had come to realize, was that he was not an extroverted guy. He never talked liberally. He measured his words, much as he measured everything else in his life. It was one of the qualities he admired in him. But directly related to that, was the impact the words he did say have. He just knew how to push his buttons and he always wondered if it had always been like this or if this had happened after losing his father. Or after losing Anne. Or if it was an effect he only had on him and on no one else. That was a possibility, as well.
The conversation they had in the kitchen stayed close to him for many weeks. Many more than what he would admit, if he was being honest. He ignored it at first, changing his thoughts at every time he noticed it creeping up. By the summer, when they decided to go volunteer in Guatemala, he couldn’t quite ignore his voice in his head and felt his eyes behind him as he talked with any of the pretty volunteers that had come from all over.
So, slowly, he stopped just screwing around (because that’s what it had to be called, and he wasn’t one to use euphemisms). Until they came back and he saw Ella again after three months. She looked exactly the same as she always had- blonde with a complexion that made her blush all the time, beautiful minimal clothing in neutral colors, honey eyes that told more than anything else in her. A book of architecture and some wine for the night. Her practicality and assertiveness and her easy laughter. Everything was the same. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
For his part, Blythe didn’t take his eyes off him the whole night.
When she left, because so far she had never spent the night over at their apartment, they got up and just made a tower of dirty dishes and decided to leave them for the morning. He was silent. Blythe as well, because that was pretty much his definition. They went to brush their teeth and just when he was about to close his bedroom door, his friend spoke.
“So you’re ready?” He knew exactly what he was referring to.
“I would say I am getting there, Blythe,” he replied, not wanting to give away much. “Good night,” he added. But he didn’t sleep and just tossed and turned, viewing all the photos they had taken over the past two years. The trips. The outings to the park. The regular study nights and her dubious experiments in the kitchen (why he kept letting her do them, that was a mystery). That day they talked about adopting a stray dog. He could not stop seeing it now. But he couldn’t quite act now, not after… two years of telling her he was never going to date her. Last time he had told her that… He had set her up to date Steve.
And he actually had no idea if she had found someone over the summer. So that was something he needed to find out about before moving a finger. Because she was in all her right to look for someone else, hell, he had encouraged it for the longest time. And she had completely changed her behaviour with him after that break up. So she very well could have moved on, as Blythe had said in the Spring.
Well, there he had it: for all he could read people, he couldn’t read himself. If he had made a mistake, he would learn to live with it and he would meet someone else when it was time, and that was it. A lesson learnt. And Ella’s soft honey eyes and sweet smile staring at him the whole night.
It turned out she had met someone. A Robert Ellinger, political science student, clever as clever could be. They saw him often as he really was a nice guy and came with Ella more often than not. He watched her from the other side of the table as she stole glances with him, as they shared casual gestures of intimacy, until invariably Blythe kicked him under the table and he offered more wine, tea, anything to distract himself from the pang of jealousy he felt.
Ella and Robert had met in June at a bar and hit it off immediately. Spent the whole summer together. Gone to all of Ella’s favorite places, he had invited her to his family cabin up north. They seemed so happy. And he couldn’t say a word: his time had come and passed and he just saw as the relationship she had craved for came to life. He focused on his study (hadn’t this actually been the purpose of not dating?) and tried just to be there for them. For anything they needed.
Until he was needed. Apparently, what had been a most perfect, movie-worthy summer of love hadn’t stood the difficulties and demands of their studies. Why, he couldn’t understand: Ella always found time to end at their apartment and did her projects there. If she had time to do this, how couldn’t she have it to see Robert? Why didn’t she do the projects at his place? At hers? Invite him over? They were medicine students and managed to see her so often! It didn’t make sense.
Then Blythe pointed it out: she did have a choice of who to spend time with and she was making it, day after day. If she was choosing to spend her afternoons, evenings and nights with them… it was because she found more value in that than in her new boyfriend. Eventually, Robert broke it off. He learnt to be stoic and contain his jokes because the last thing he needed was to show the joy he felt about her summer’s fling end. Ella didn’t give details as to what happened and between the both of them tried to make her feel better.
She decided Blythe was, for some reason, her new pet project and wouldn’t rest until he went out on a date with anyone. He was ready, she insisted. Blythe said he wasn’t. When they asked for his opinion, he made a joke. The thing was, he was ready to date Ella, now. And she wasn’t anymore. A couple of weeks later Blythe caved, just to see if Ella would smile, and went out (finally!) with Christine Stuart, who had been after him for way too long.
And so, apparently, they were four: Blythe with Christine, Ella and him. Blythe seemed reasonably happy and putting in what he knew for a fact was his best effort to make things work with Christine, a chirpy brunette that studied design and liked to stay over Saturday’s nights. And as he got progressively busier taking care of a relationship he hadn’t really looked for, Ella gave him space. Which meant she started talking more to him once again, as she had done at the beginning of their friendship. As weeks progressed, the edge that was still slightly present on her voice slowly disappeared.
He kept the information to himself and, as he did whenever he didn’t want to talk about himself, redirected Blythe’s questions to him and the budding relationship with Christine. He took notice of Ella’s slightly changing attitudes. He somehow made sure that Blythe made it clear to her he hadn’t been screwing around since the summer. Even if by this point he really, really wanted to go back to that, but he kept his focus.
Just as he had talked himself into not dating because he wanted to focus on his studies to get good bases, he could talk himself into waiting for sex. Because much as he knew Ella, he was sure that was not going to happen any time soon once they started going out. And he really wanted to be with her now. It made sense. He found her as attractive as the day he met her, but he’d had over two years to get to know her, what was important to her, what she believed in and what she wanted out of life. And after dealing with Blythe until he was a functioning adult out of sheer care, when mystery Anne’s dad died and Blythe was on the verge of travelling all the way to PEI… managing countless rounds of all-nighters, accompanying her as her parent’s marriage fell apart... he knew he could work and solve problems with her. They made a great team. It made sense. And he couldn’t get her out of his mind, her laughter, the tiny crease of her eyebrows, how she was so damn sexy every single day and he somehow only noticed now.
“I’ll see you guys around,” Christine said as she stood up and went to the door.
Blythe followed her dutifully. For his part, he looked from the table, his half covered with five different books, opened and with post-its. Ella was on the other side, her latest model covering the space. She looked over as well. He sometimes wondered if Blythe was really into that relationship as he tried so hard to show. He always seemed to have a tense set on his jaw that was not really convincing him. He looked back down at his books.
They were saying their goodbyes and he caught the pet-name Christine insisted on calling him that made him and Ella cringe (and probably Blythe, too, but he would never admit it). Who called anyone under eighty Bertie? A big, showy kiss later, the door was closed and Gilbert was on the sofa, his hand on his nape. That annoying habit.
“Gilbert, stop that, you’re not eight,” Ella said, her eyes not leaving the tiny window she was gluing.
“You’re not even looking at me!”
“I don’t have to, I already know you. What’s got you on a twist?”
“It’s just…” he started, but didn’t say anything else. He looked at Blythe. “It’s nothing.”
“Has to be something. How long have you been dating her?”
“I don’t know. Forever, it would seem?”
“Right, because time goes slow when you’re enjoying yourself, Blythe,” he commented. “It’s been… Four months? Five?”
“Since October. And it’s February… So right, four,” Ella provided.
“I don’t know. You know I don’t celebrate that crap. Feels long enough, though.”
“Because you can’t stand her.” Both Ella and Blythe looked at him.
“I do like her. I date her, Wright. Why would I do that if I didn’t like her?”
“Because you have no idea how to stop, Blythe, that’s why. You can’t figure out a polite way of breaking up and it’s eating you inside as she keeps calling you Bertie.”
“Please tell her not to call you that, Gilbert? It’s absurd,” Ella pleaded, her eyes on her model. Fred laughed, because he knew she was as annoyed as he was with the obnoxious pet-name.
“I don’t want to break up with her. And I don’t mind…. Bertie… that much.”
“Yes, keep telling that to yourself. Sure it will suit you in a couple of years. Or decades,” he said, getting up. “Any of you want tea? My brain is fried.” Both nodded and he went to the kitchen. He went back to the main room as the water heated. “Look, Blythe, if you really like her, that’s fine. If you’re dating her just because we encouraged you to do so, please don’t. It doesn’t make sense and it’s not fair for the poor girl.”
“Fred, why are you insisting on this?”
“Because your body screams you want to put fifty miles in between you and her, that’s why. Haven’t had any pain lately? Tension headaches? Something related to clenching your jaw the whole day?” The kettle went off and he went to prepare the teas. He went back and put one on a safe distance of the model (that accident had already happened) and one on the coffee table before going back for his. “You still have long to do today, Ella? Want a hand?”
“I’m almost done. Don’t worry. And you don’t have any fine-motor skills so please stay off this. Go sit with Gilbert or whatever if you’re not studying any more,” she said, as she pasted yet another window, her hand very steady. He shrugged and went to the sofa.
“So, movie?”
“You’re just dropping the subject?”
“Blythe, we can’t tell you what to do, only what we see. But if you’re not happy with her and you see no future in that relationship, why keep it up? You’re not going to gain anything you’re not gaining already and there are way easier methods to accomplish that without enduring dates and obnoxious pet-names.”
“You’re disgusting, have I told you that?”
“You have and we each have made our point. We just disagree on this subject, Blythe. Nothing wrong with that. I just know what I want and I try to be honest about it,” he said. Ella seemed pretty concentrated on her model, but her concentration was suddenly deeper, as if she was actually trying to block them off. Maybe it hadn’t been the brightest idea to mention one-night stands in front of her. Oh well. It was done. She already knew that part of him and how he had stopped doing it. And he was ready to date her, now, if she would have him. He knew her project was due the next day, and after that, when she had a mind to think about something other than scales and measurements, he would ask her out. It was time.
“You haven’t been doing much of that lately,” his friend replied, giving him a pointed look. Because Blythe intuitively knew why he had stopped and was clearly waiting for him to make a move. He returned the stare. One day, Blythe. Or… What difference could a day make, honestly? And Ella was practical and bright, she wasn’t going to let herself get distracted by him asking her out, and Blythe could maybe learn by seeing some example? And go get what he wanted… or end what he didn’t?
“Ok, you win,” he said to Blythe, who frowned as an answer. He turned to the table, where Ella kept gluing tiny windows. Why did her designs always have so many windows? He looked at her for a moment, just enjoying her sight. “Ella, you want to go on a date tomorrow? I changed my mind,” he said finally. Gilbert looked at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on Ella. She looked up from her model, the glue still in her hand. She looked at him for a second and he nodded almost imperceptibly. He did want this. It made sense, now. A whole world of sense. And they could teach Blythe. She glued the tiny window, apparently thinking. He didn’t let his eyes wander.
“Yes, let’s go at five” she replied, looking at him briefly before going back to her project with a tiny smile. Gilbert kept looking at them alternatively and Fred sent him a look.
“That’s it?!”
“Yes, it is that simple. You like the girl, you ask her out, Blythe. Or you don’t like her anymore, you break out with her. Ella, I’ll pick you up at your house, that’s fine?”
“It sure is, Fred, now let me concentrate,” she said, her voice apparently annoyed. But he could see her smile from where he sat.
The house where Ella lived always caused him curiosity. The only thing he knew was that she rented a room, there were other six girls who did the same and the place had some ancient rules about visiting that resulted in her almost living at their place and them not having been even in the parlor of that house. Not that he could complain. So he went to the main door and knocked, a middle aged stern-looking woman opening it.
“Hello, madam,” he greeted, trying to convey his best smile. It couldn’t hurt any. He felt like he was in the forties. Great. “Is Ella Weiss around?” The door closed and he raised his eyebrows. Ok, that was an interesting turn of events. He walked down off the porch and went close to a nice tree in the front yard.
“Fred? Sorry about that. She’s nasty, I should have told you,” Ella appeared not two minutes later. The weather was freezing and she had on the nice coat he had once complimented in passing, a cream beanie and had more makeup than usual. She fidgeted with her hands. Clearly nervous and not even knowing about how to stand. She looked cute like she always did and he smiled broadly.
“Don’t worry about it. How was your project?”
“Great,” she replied, a huge smile, forgetting her nerves for a moment. “We don’t get grades until next week, but I felt confident.”
“That’s good. You’ll do well.” He knew so because she was as much of a nerd as Blythe and him were. Plus, she was bright. She kept her smile. “So, I was thinking… Coffee? Or are you hungry and prefer dinner?”
“Coffee is nice, remember that place… Ugh, I don’t remember the name, but that tall guy from your class mentioned something.”
“I don’t remember the name either, but… I do remember where it was. Let’s go there, it’s not far.”
“Good that everything is so close to the campus, I guess.”
“Good it is,” he said.
They were still in the front of that house that honestly gave him the creeps. How long was it appropriate to date someone before inviting them to live with you if you were almost sure from the first date this was the right person? Would Blythe even approve? Her conservative parents? She was looking expectantly at him, as he had not moved in any direction. He looked at her, because her gaze was always steadying, and he really wanted to lay everything out. As he had in the opposite manner so many months before.
“It turns out you managed to convince me and I am willing to have a relationship now. And I do believe it could be with you. It could only be with you, actually. So let’s get on with this and reevaluate at the end if you’re still interested, how does that sound?” he proposed, hoping his voice sounded kind and not anxious.
“You’re ridiculous, Fred,” she replied, exasperated, the trusted blush appearing in her cheeks. He smiled at her.
“I like you now, so it’s not ridiculous. I just want you to see where we stand right now and if this could actually work. You know, the usual purpose of dates?” he proposed, winking. Some levity could not go wrong.
“Well that’s a good thing. Because you were dragging this long enough,” was her smiley reply. Nice.
“I probably was, but I can’t say I regret it. I think some things take more time to ripen and this was one of those,” he commented. She rolled her eyes. “Shall we?” he said, offering his arm and making her laugh at the old fashioned gesture that was very on-par with her living arrangements. The laugh was great. He didn’t want her nervous or apprehensive. He wanted her to have a great time.
They walked along the street in the direction of the coffee house, some snow falling around them. The day was cold, the night already coming, but he felt joyful. And optimistic. Good signs. And she kept stealing little glances like she had that day they met, and holding the arm he had offered partially as an ice-breaker, partially because he actually wanted her close. Win-win. The place was pretty close, and he opened the door for her.
“I think I’ll try the hot chocolate today,” he commented. Ella was, so far, very quiet. Which was starting to get him on his nerves. “What are you having?”
“I’ll try the… mango strawberry smoothie,” she said. There were still a couple more persons in line and he turned to look at her. She hated mango, for some weird reason he couldn’t quite understand. He saw her fidget with her purse, a habit he already knew she had only when nervous.
“Look, Ella, we already know each other. No need to try and be interesting by ordering something you don’t like, why are you ordering a smoothie with mango, of all things?” he asked gently.
“I don’t even know,” she confessed, blushing bright pink.
“What do you want?” he asked. They could do this. It didn’t have to be awkward. They knew each other pretty well by then. She knew him, he knew her, why on earth was she so worried about? It was obviously the date, but why? Hadn’t he been clear enough? He strived to be clear! And she couldn’t possibly be worried about fucking up… come on, there was no way that could happen. This was just the next natural step on their relationship, as reluctant as he had been to take it. There was no need to have an awkward date. Unless she didn’t want it anymore, but then, why would she be as nervous?
“Just black coffee,” she mumbled.
“Then order that,” he proposed, smiling at her.
“Ok, but I pay.” she decided, her voice more secure. More her. He nodded. He could always invite her to something later on. “Go seat, Fred.”
“That’s more like you,” he replied, a big smile. That’s the girl he knew. She pushed him playfully.
“Right. So go, shoo!”
When she arrived with the coffee she sat opposite to him, as he always did. He stood up and sat next to her, which made her blush again, which made her excuse herself for being basically a thirteen year old. Which was about endearing as Ella could get and he told her so, just because there was no need to keep it just to himself anymore. Which made her blush even more and keep her eyes on her black coffee.
“I’ll give you some distraction, then,” he said suddenly, as she seemed to have reverted to that shy state she had that night and he still didn’t get how he could cause. She looked at him, curious. He loved being so close to her. The golden flecks on her eyes. “So, Blythe felt all inspired and went and broke up with Christine.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh my god. It was about time. I can’t even believe I suggested he go out with her in the first place,” she said, chuckling in relief. And just like that, it snapped her off her weird shyness and they just talked. And talked. For what seemed like minutes but were actually hours. Their chairs somehow were closer together once they stood up than when he had sat down next to her, but neither complained. He wanted her close. And he wanted her to kiss him, dammit.
“You need to go back now, or could I entice you with a walk around the park?”
“Let’s go.”
They walked in silence around the park, already dark at that time during the winter. It was almost deserted, the cold keeping everyone at home. The hour as well, if he was being honest: people usually didn’t walk around the park at 9:00 pm on Thursdays. She had her hands in her pockets and he thought for a second if there was any way he would persuade her to take them out. Just one, so he could hold it. If only she wasn’t fidgeting so much. Or didn’t have that blush that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature because she had sported it since they had left the coffee shop, when he had proposed a walk around the park. The blush was always endearing, but tonight it seemed to be synonymous with shyness and nervousness.
“What, now, Ella?” he finally asked. How could she be so nervous again? Weren’t they past that? What could she honestly be anxious about if all the cards were already laid out on the table? They liked each other. This steady persistence she had seemed to have worked on him. Finally. After two years and a half. He was more than willing to have a relationship with her because she was the perfect person for him and he couldn’t take her out of his head. He had been clear the whole afternoon. So what, now?
“How can you be so relaxed?” she replied. He looked at her, surprised. Why wouldn’t he be?
“I like you, you like me, there’s no need to stress about it. Good thing about not rushing stuff like this,” he explained. It was so simple. So nice. So perfect. Like her. They kept walking in silence. He saw her struggle in silence and decided not to interrupt her train of thought.
“So if I were to kiss you, then it would be all right?” she asked finally, stopping, looking at him with that cute little crease in her forehead. He stood in front of her, smoothed the crease softly with his thumb before replying and left his hand cupping her cheek.
“Of course. I don’t even know what took you so long,” he confessed. Because he was going to do it either way, if he was being honest, but he really wanted her to go for it first. Because he knew how much it meant for her as well. And he felt a little jump in his stomach as she looked at his lips, because for all the time he had pondered about this, about the pros and cons of them dating, about everything that could go wrong, kissing her had never left his mind. And he just knew this kiss would be different from all the others. This girl was just what he wanted. For life.
Her cheeks were still slightly blushed (that blonde complexion she kept complaining about that was just so endearing to him). She bit her lips for a second, evidently still nervous, and put her hand on his nape, bringing him down to her height. He followed her willingly until he felt her lips caressing his and he knew they would work. He already knew they functioned well together. Their dynamic. They trusted each other, respected each other and shared ideals and goals. It made sense. And their chemistry worked as well. And she kissed like every kiss should be. Just perfect. Unforgettable.
He felt relief wash over him at the realization that yes, they evidently also desired each other and this could not be any better because it would be plain weird. Her kiss was just like her, gentle and firm at the same time, and when she tried to break it he couldn’t stand the idea of letting go just yet and brought her closer, deepening it for a few seconds. Because he wasn’t ready to let go quite yet. He finally did, thought, giving her a small, chaste kiss before bringing her close to his chest, the puffy jackets in between them. He sighed as she giggled.
“Ella?” he asked, slightly confused.
“I just kissed you,” she whispered against his chest. As if she were a teen telling a friend she had kissed her favorite singer and couldn’t believe it.
“I know. I loved it,” he said gently, holding her even tighter.
“It was so worth the wait,” she confessed after a moment, neither of them making any move. He smiled.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” he admitted, because he had taken so long to come to terms with dating, and then with asking Ella out, she could have so easily moved on by then. He had thought she had, at one point. “Thank you.”
“Your heart is beating so fast.”
“I can feel that. And I know you don’t care about the physiological explanation. I just like you a lot, Ella,” he said, finally letting go of her and looking into her eyes. He smiled brightly at her, at how she kept that blush and how her pupils were so dilated and she had this soft, finally at ease smile on her. Both his hands on the sides of her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks softly. “This seems to work. So, what do you say, we give it a shot at us being together?”
“Ok. So, do you want to head over to your place? You can cook that Italian pasta you made the other day. What did it have, pesto?”
“Pesto,” he confirmed and he couldn’t help but kiss her again. This was so right. “And we can tell Blythe the good news as he tells you his.”