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Arthur felt a tugging on his jacket and, turning away from the grocery shelves before him, saw a pretty young woman looking up at him. He pulled his headphones down around his neck. “Yeah?” he asked with a slight huff. It wasn’t the first he’d interrupted while trying to run errands, but it got annoying at times.
"You're taking the last loaf of bread AND the last carton of eggs?" She uncrossed her arms just long enough to gesture angrily at his basket before promptly recrossing them.
Arthur gave her his most charming smile. She glared back at him.
"Early bird gets the worm?"
She continued to glare at him. "Other people need to eat, too."
"Can't you try another store?"
"Sure! Because I haven't tried four! I'm sure the next store will have loads!"
"Are you being sarcastic?" He asked uneasily.
"Oh my God. This is not happening.” She looked up at the ceiling, as if asking God or some other deity or just the universe at large what she had done to deserve this. “Can I, please, just have the eggs? My dad's birthday is tomorrow. I need them for a cake."
"Ummm. Sure. Here." He pulled the carton out of his basket and held it towards her as a peace offering.
The woman looked almost surprised. "Thanks."
As she took it, their hands brushed and it was like being shocked. They both pulled their hands back a bit too quickly. A rosy color had come to her cheeks and Arthur was sure his matched.
There was an awkward pause. "Um so heading to the check out?" he asked.
"Where else?"
"Well, um, after you then." He flashed her another smile and gestured for her to go ahead. She rolled her eyes as she headed to the front of the store.
"Just the eggs, ma'am?" asked the cashier, a boy who looked barely old enough to be working.
"That’s all for today, Pat. And I can bag it myself." She held up her tote bag. “How are things going at school.”
“Pretty good, actually! I got an A on my last phsyics test!”
“Congratulations!” She gave him a warm smile. “Your mom will be thrilled. Tell her I said hi by the way.”
It was then that the cashier caught sight of Arthur and his eyes widened in surprise. "No way!! You're him!!." he exclaimed. The woman glanced between the two of them obviously confused. Arthur gave the boy a smile and a little bow of the head.
"Why don't you finish checking this lady out so she can be on her way?”
"Oh, yeah, sure, Mr. Pendragon. Ssss-sorry." He turned back to the woman, told her the total, took her money, and gave her back her change while stuttering nervously through the whole thing.
Turning to Arthur, he took the loaf of bread. His hands were shaking so badly he had to try to scan the item about ten times before it finally rang up. "I can't believe you're here in MY store. Well, Mr. O'Malley's store, b-b-but... You're my hero." The kid blurted out. "Can I get your autograph?"
"Of course. What would you like me to sign."
"Umm...." He looked around him. "Here. I'll square it with Mrs. Costa. She won't mind anyway." He handed Arthur a battered paperback he'd had stuffed beside the cash register. From the looks of it, it was probably about his age, maybe older.
"Sure. What's your name?"
"Pat - um- Pat Fitzgerald.”
Arthur signed the book and handed it back. "There you go, Pat."
"Thanks! Have a great evening, Pen- Mr. Pendragon, sir!"
Arthur chuckled as he headed out into the snow. He wiped the light snow that had fallen while he was in the shop off his windshield. As he pulled out, he noticed the woman from before standing in the snow beside a car.
He rolled down his window. "Hey. Do you need some help?"
"What now?" she whipped around. She was clutching her coat around her and was clearly shivering. She looked close to tears.
"I was just trying to help."
"Yeah? Well, are you a locksmith?"
"No."
"Do you know one?"
"Umm...no?"
"How about getting my bus running?"
"Well, I mean...."
"The Hero of Boston." She snorted.
He blushed and looked down. So she had figured out who he was after all. One of the radio talk show hosts had started calling him that after he'd helped the Red Sox win the World Series in 2013 and everyone from the guys on ESPN to school children had started calling him that. A walk-off grand slam to beat the Yankees last season had insured the moniker would stick. He'd been so proud. His dad had handed him a copy of the Boston Globe with his image across the front page (above the fold), clapped him on the back, and assured him he was well on his way to his own place in Cooperstown.
"I could give you a lift," he offered.
She looked up. "Why would you do that?"
"Hero of Boston." He said, gesturing to himself and cocking an eyebrow sarcastically. She finally gave him a genuine, unsarcastic smile.
"I don't want to be any trouble."
"It's no trouble."
She laughed. "Driving anywhere in this weather is trouble!"
"Ok. It's trouble but I don't mind. Just get in before we both freeze!"
She glanced back at her car one last time, clearly hesitant to leave it, but opened the door and climbed in, setting her purse and tote bag at her feet.
"Ok. Where to?" Arthur asked. Gwen gave him directions as he pulled out into the street.
"So. You know my name, can I know yours?"
"Oh, right. I'm Gwen.”
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you at the store,” Gwen said, breaking the silence. “I’m just having a really bad day. I’m a nurse and, with the weather as bad as this, it stretches us a bit thin.”
“Sure. No harm done.”
"That's my apartment there. Sorry the parking lot’s a mess, the landlord's a bit of a jackass."
He pulled into the space she pointed out.
"Thanks." Gwen said awkwardly brushing her hair out of her face.
"You’re welcome."
She gathered her bags and wished him a safe trip home.
The man passing behind her on his way in stopped and tapped her on the shoulder, "Hey, Gwen, your friend knows about the wreck right? The highway's completely fucked up.”
"Thanks for letting me know, Pete.” She used her body to block his view of Arthur, but Arthur could see that the man was decked out practically head to toe in Red Sox gear. She clearly wanted to avoid any fuss over just who her “friend” was.
She turned back to him, silhouetted against the snowy sky, hair flying into her face. "Maybe you should come in so you can figure out the best way home?" She asked.
He nodded, pulled his hood up as he got out of his car, and followed her to the apartment block.
She found her hidden spare key and unlocked the door, making apologies and offering to take his coat. He handed it to her like he was used to such treatment and without a thank you. Gwen frowned behind his back.
“It’s...” don’t say small he told himself, “nice,” he finally finished. “Um, so, could I get some coffee?” he asked, trying to change the topic.
“Oh... sure. Just a sec.”
His eyes followed her and saw her old coffee machine and the container of off-brand coffee sitting on the counter of what barely could be called a kitchen. "Actually, I'll pass." He collapsed on her sofa, kicking off his shoes.
Gwen tried to hide her annoyance. "I need to change," she said through gritted teeth.
Arthur watched her go, a bit confused. He pulled out his phone to check the news. The police had no idea when the highway would reopen. It was, as Gwen’s neighbor had so helpfully informed them, “fucked,” but he was beginning to wonder if he should have just tried his luck anyway. How bad could it be? He began searching for alternative routes home.
"How's it looking?" Gwen asked. She had changed into a large sweater and yoga pants. Her hair was piled on the top of her head but a few escaped curls framed her face. He needed to stop noticing that.
"Umm there's a few back roads I could use but ..."
"They'll be a mess." She cut in.
"Yeah."
"Well... I can't send you out into that storm if they don’t get things cleared up. Worst comes to worst you can crash here."
"On your couch?"
Gwen’s looked around the room. “It’s a fine couch. But if you want to drive home be my guest.”
“Why did you even offer when you so clearly dislike me?”
Just then the door opened and a tall man entered, so completely bundled up that only his eyes were visible. He stopped abruptly when he saw Arthur on the couch and gave Gwen a quizzical look. "Arthur, what are you doing here?" He asked unwrapping the scarf covering his face. At first Arthur was taken aback by the man's familiarity but then he recognized the voice of the physical therapist he'd been seeing since his injury at the end of the previous season.
"Merlin?!"
"Wait. You two know each other?" asked Gwen.
"You know I work with athletes. What is he doing here?"
"I locked my keys in the car. He offered to give me a lift."
Merlin looked over at Arthur, clearly still confused but also surprised, "That was kind of you." Why was everyone always so surprised when he did anything nice.? “You're not going back out in that." It was a statement not a question.
"I already offered him the couch."
"Yeah, but if you don't tell him what to do or not to do, he'll get himself killed."
Arthur shot Merlin an exasperated look. They’d been arguing about what his shoulder was and wasn’t ready for at their last session. Merlin just shrugged.
"Hey so I promised my mom a phone call and I already ate, so you two do whatever you want."
He left for his room, leaving Gwen and Arthur alone. He'd interrupted the fight but the uneasiness returned as soon as he was gone.
"So you and Merlin are together?" Arthur asked.
"No. Just roommates." She answered tersely. Arthur wasn't sure why, but he felt relieved.
"And it's not that I dislike you. I think you are kind. You didn't have to offer me a ride home. And you were very nice to Pat..."
"But?" He prompted.
"But I don't think you even realize how you behave. You think a smile and your popularity should get you whatever you want. And you treat my place as if it's beneath you. I know your family is rich but that doesn't make you better than anyone else."
He was used to people analyzing everything he did on the field. Perfect strangers often wanted to give him tips on how to hold his bat and what types of training he should do. Hell, he’d had someone tell him what he should demand in his contract for the next season. No one ever criticized him personally. He was considered one of the team’s "good boys." He was at all the right charity events, usually with his dad, and never got into trouble. That was more than enough for most people.
"Well... Anything else?"
Gwen looked back up from her hands which she'd been carefully studying since she stopped talking. She seemed about to be about to say something but bit her lip.
"You might as well go ahead."
"You could have left your shoes on the mat by the door, instead of just kicking them off in the middle of the room."
Arthur immediately picked up the offending shoes and moved them, before sitting back down. "Ok, what next?"
"I'm not asking you to make it up to me. I'm just saying you could be more thoughtful."
"Sure, but you're letting me stay, what can I do?"
Gwen considered the offer. "Help me with dinner?"
"I can't cook! We’ve always had a cook or gone out for dinner." Gwen's eyebrows raised. "...but it’s never too late to learn?"
"Ok. So what should we make?"
"We could have eggs and toast." Arthur suggested with a laugh.
Gwen actually seemed to consider it for a second. "What about French toast?"
"Isn't that difficult?"
"It's doable."
"Ok. I'll go get the bread!”
When Arthur got back from the car, they set to work. Gwen told him what to do, explaining instructions he didn't understand and correcting his mistakes. They carefully moved around each other in the small kitchen. He looked up when he noticed her laughing quietly beside him. "What?"
"You're covered in powdered sugar!"
She brushed the worst of it off his shoulder. He felt the same warm shock as before.
"Hey, you’re a mess, too!" He reached over to wipe the streak of egg of her cheek. They both froze, eyes locked. Arthur felt himself drawn closer and closer to her until their lips were almost touching ---
Merlin appeared in the living room. "Whatever you're making it smells amaz- um oh..." He stopped suddenly at the entrance to the little alcove that constituted their kitchen. "I'll just -" he vanished back into his room as quickly as he'd appeared but the spell had already been broken. Arthur had pulled his hand back from Gwen's cheek and she leaned back too.
They awkwardly returned to their cooking.
"Finished!" Gwen exclaimed at last, beaming up at him as he added the final slice of banana to the plate. Instinctively, he held up his hand for a high five and after just a second's hesitation she reached up and slapped her palm against his.
"We can sit on the couch and watch the news. Grab your plate," Gwen instructed. Arthur picked up both plates before she could take hers and let her lead the way into the other room. Once she was sitting he handed her a plate, before joining her with his own. The gesture earned him another smile.
The news was the same as every night: it had snowed, more snow was coming, in other unimaginable parts of the world it was not snowing and things unrelated to snow were happening.
The news ended and a show began, but they weren't really watching it. Some news clip had prompted a story which had prompted another. And eventually they’d moved to the kitchen, so Gwen could make the cake for her father.
He picked up a piece of mail from the counter. “Your last name’s Larkin? Like Barry?"
She looked at him blankly.
"The Reds player?"
"Sorry." She still looked confused.
"He was my hero growing up."
"Not your dad?" If anyone in Boston was more famous than Arthur, it was his dad, who had been a part of the franchise for years, first as their star pitcher, than a coach, and finally as manager.
He looked at her, smiled, and shrugged. His dad hated it. "He was a shortstop - like me."
“I always wondered about that. Didn’t your dad want you to ‘carry on the family legacy’?”
“And you acted like you didn’t know who I was!”
“I didn’t recognize you! That doesn’t mean I haven’t heard of you and your dad. Don't dodge the question.”
“Hey I’m just teasing! Yeah, he wanted me to be a pitcher pretty badly, but I don’t know- being a pitcher is such an obvious move, right? And I like being a shortstop. It’s a position that’s really challenging but not quite as glorified as being a pitcher, I guess, and a bit freer. All the other positions have their own spot. I mean it’s not like I can just wander off wherever I want, but I can move around a bit and go where needed."
He glanced over at Gwen and saw she was giving him a strange, almost incredulous, look. “What?”
“It’s just - interesting.”
"Well, at least I didn't become a Yankee. Dad would never have forgiven me for that betrayal."
He laughed with Gwen at his overdramatic words, but it was scarily true. Uther Pendragon could live with a son who wasn't a pitcher. A son who wore The Enemy's pinstripes would have been more than he could bare.
Arthur had never met someone who made him feel so on edge but also so comfortable. It was like they'd known each other a thousand years and he still wanted to impress her, but none of the usual accomplishments worked.
"You working tomorrow?" He asked when he noticed how late it was getting.
"Yeah," Gwen laughed. "No, snow days for nurses."
"If there's someone who can give a ride home, I'd can drop you off," he offered.
"I have to leave at five," she warned him.
"I'm usually up early training anyway. Doc's orders." He nodded at Merlin's door. "And before you protest, yeah it's trouble but I really don't mind."
"OK. You win."
She left the kitchen to fetch him a blanket and he went to gather their dishes from the other room. They exchanged quiet "good night"s, a tension in the air born of un-kissed cheeks and awkwardness. When Gwen's door closed, Arthur flopped back onto the couch, stretching out as much as he could.
Arthur looked up where streetlights and the few cars still bravely passing made patterns on the ceiling and tried to track exactly how he came to be lying there feeling the way he did.
She was pretty, but he'd had hotter girls flirt with him. She listened to him, but was unimpressed by all the things most people thought made him interesting. She was more critical than his father, if that was possible. Maybe it was just the snow. It was driving everyone a little crazy.
He finally drifted off before he was able to come to a conclusion and awoke to the clatter of dishes in the next room. A glance at his watch told him it was 4:50. He got up and pulled on his now dry shoes.
"Oh, good. You're awake." Gwen was dressed in her scrubs was leaning against the counter, a container of yogurt in her hands. She shoved a coffee mug into his hands. "I know. It's not the best but you look like you need it."
He took a sip. He knew it was terrible but at 4:55 it also tasted like the most amazing thing in the world. "Not bad." He glanced down at his watch. "Should we get going? It'll take a few minutes to get the car cleared off." Gwen nodded. They grabbed their coats and headed out into the chilly air. Together, the two of them quickly got the car cleared off.
His car was the only one on the almost eerily empty roads. They chatted easily. He couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed when he saw the hospital up ahead. He turned into the entrance, stopping in front of the door.
"Thanks again for everything."
"Sure. And thank you! Who knows how long I would have been stuck in traffic last night!"
"You would have been home by now."
"Last night was fun."
Gwen's eyebrows furrowed. "But I yelled at you!"
"I'm used to it, and frankly it was a nice change from 'run faster!' and 'come on! Catch the damn ball.' Or 'how fucking dumb are you!' Variety is the spice of life and all that."
Gwen smiled at this self deprecating humor and Arthur wondered how anyone could be so beautiful at 5:37 in the morning.
"I really have to get into work ," she apologized.
"Of course! Um, could I get your number?"
Gwen looked at him hesitantly and his mind flicked back to her hiding him from her neighbor's view. Some girls were only into him for the attention, but Gwen had bucked all the trends so far.
"You know what, never mind."
"No. Wait. I'll put it in your phone."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
He handed her his phone and watched trying to hide his grin as she typed in her number.
"There. Ok I really have to go in. The other nurses will be out for my blood." She was only half kidding.
"Sure. Well, have a nice day!"
"You, too!"
He watched her walk into the hospital. She stopped just inside the door to turn and give him a wave and a smile, which he returned.
He was about to pull out when his phone sitting in the passenger's seat caught his eye. Pushing aside all the advice about being cool and waiting three days, he hastily composed and sent a message. “Let me know if you need a ride home.”
He put the phone down but it binged immediately as a new message came in, “Thanks, but I already got it sorted.”
“Maybe we could meet for another cooking lesson :P” he texted back.
“Sure! I’d like that.”
As he drove off past piles of dirty snow taller than cars and two people gesturing wildly at each other over a parking spot, he wondered if there was any place as beautiful as Boston in the winter.