She isn't usually like this. Perhaps it is the fact that Lance had just dumped her (again). Perhaps it is the after-effects of watching yet another of her college mate get married. Whatever it was, she's now desperately writhing under a man she doesn't know, begging him to enter her.
There's a yellow post-it note next to her pillow the next day.
We should do this again.
She finds out who he is the next day when she reads the news in the papers of Uther Pendragon handing over his company to his son. There's a picture of Uther and his son. His son has some girl that isn't her, hanging off his arm. She throws the post-it note into the bin.
At a charity ball for Wildlife Conservation, she is formally introduced to him. As she shakes his hand, she ignores the knowing glint in his eyes. Merlin's incessant chattering keeps her in his company longer than she wants. She doesn't want to find out that he's funny and a tiny bit witty. She really doesn't need to hear Merlin extolling his generosity and kindness. And she really doesn't need to discover how much she enjoys talking to him.
He finds her as the ball draws to a close in an empty ballroom and asks her to dance. It seems churlish to refuse. She's a grown woman and can handle a one-night stand. Plus she has a few drinks in her.
Somehow, the one-night stand becomes two. She awakes the next day in an unfamiliar room.
Good morning sunshine. I have to run but perhaps we could have dinner? Call me.
She grabs the yellow post-it note and shoves it in her bag. It is with a sigh of relief that she escapes his apartment unnoticed. This is ridiculous she tells herself. They barely know each other and Lance is her one true love.
Merlin comes by bearing gossip. He laughingly tells her about Arthur Pendragon's new flame. Arthur can't stop talking about her. She's sexy, smart and beautiful he says and she knows it isn't her. Then Merlin snorts, saying it would hardly last 2 weeks. Everyone knows what a playboy Arthur is.
She tears up the yellow post-it note and drops them in the bin.
Lance returns from finding himself and devotes himself to wooing her. Part of her remembers the blond with sparkling blue eyes but when she sees Arthur leading another lady to the opening of a restaurant on TV, she finds herself smiling back at Lance. Perhaps things would work out this time.
Merlin buys a new house and has a house warming. He fails to tell her that Arthur would be there. When Merlin introduces Lance to Arthur, there are storm clouds in his eyes. Arthur pointedly ignores her the whole time, choosing to converse with Lance and Merlin. Lance lets slip that she's looking for a new job. Her current boss is a perv he tells Arthur. She can see Arthur's jaw clench before he looks away and changes the subject. It's fine, she consoles herself later as she stares at her bright eyes in the mirror. She has Lance and that's all she needs. She shakes Arthur's hand as they depart Merlin's housewarming. Something is pressed in her palm.
Lance is a lucky man. Perhaps in another time.
She crushes the yellow post-it note before Lance sees it and slips it in her clutch.
She should have known better than to accept the interview at Pendragon towers. Their eyes meet across the corridor and the next thing she knows is that she's pressed up against the door of his office, clawing at his shirt. They slide sated to the carpet together and he cuddles her close, whispering sweet nothings into her hair. Break up with Lance he mumbles. Please.
When his phone rings and he reluctantly leaves her side, she dresses quickly. Her stomach is swirling and she fears she may do something stupid. He stares at her as he rattles off numbers and jargon. There's a message in his eyes she doesn't want to see. Grabbing the nearest post-it pad, she scribbles on it before she flees from his office.
She doesn't see him pick up the yellow post-it note and gently run his fingers across her scrawled goodbye. She doesn't see the pain in his eyes.
Lance leaves yet again. This time she is more relieved than anything. Merlin must have told Arthur because he's at her apartment that night. It's the best night she's had in a long time.
They fall into a pattern. He spends his weekdays at her apartment. She spends her weekend at his. There's a tiny bit of happiness that's building in her day after day. They don't speak of the future. They don't exchange love declarations. He attempts to cook for her (often with disastrous results) and listens to her complain about her job. She laughs at his bad singing and lets him control the television.
No one knows about them. She wants to keep this all to herself. He doesn't push.
She's having her hair cut and she flips through one of those woman's magazines. There's a feature on him inside and she reads it avidly. When he tells the interviewer that he thinks marriage is overrated, her heart sinks. It's not like she doesn't know he's hardly the long term type but seeing the words in print makes it all the more real. In the accompanying picture, a tall, sexy model is draped over him.
When her colleague brings her young daughter to work, she makes a decision.
At home, there's a yellow post-it note on her kitchen counter.
Tied up with work tonight. See you tomorrow instead.
She sags with relief. The whole night is spent rehearsing her break-up speech. When he comes by the next night, she forgets every word and they tumble into bed easily. He sleeps soundly next to her and she watches him, her fingers running across his skin. He's Arthur Pendragon, rich, handsome, powerful. She was nobody. How can she compare to the many gorgeous, rich, well-bred women he mixes with? She ate at fast food restaurants and tiny, cheap cafes. He dined at Michelin star restaurants. She took holidays at nearby beach resorts. He flew to the Maldives. They were playing a game. This wasn't real. Someone like Arthur didn't need someone like her.
She knows she's a coward when she writes him a Dear John note on a yellow post-it and then leaves for work.
Certain he would have left her apartment, she enters it that evening after work, bracing herself for the emptiness. The first thing she notices is that there are yellow post-it notes everywhere.
The one on her hallway mirror says I love you because you make me look good.
The one on her air freshener says I love you because you've made my life more fragrant.
The one on her heater says I love you because you warm my heart (and toes).
The one on her silly stuffed teddy bear says I love you beary much.
It goes on and on and by the time she reaches her bedroom, she can barely see through the tears in her eyes, although she is unsure if it is because she is happy or because his notes get progressively more ridiculous.
And he's there, on her bed. There's a nervousness in his eyes, as if he's not sure how she will take this. His right leg jiggles uncontrollably and he just watches her enter the room.
She's in his arms sobbing like a baby and he's clinging to her, begging her not to cry. He tells her he had to at least try but if she still wants him to leave he will. When she says nothing, he kisses the top of her head and releases his grip on her. A yellow post-it note flutters to the floor and she picks it up.
Before she can read it, he snatches it away. It's nothing he says, his face drawn and his eyes bright.
"I love you," she blurts, "I love you."
And then she is swept up in his arms and he's kissing her all over. That tiny bit of happiness in her explodes and suddenly, it doesn't matter that she can't tell a desert fork from a dinner fork. All that matters is that he's laughing and telling her over and over again that he loves her too.
Some hours later, he would show her the last yellow post-it note.