Disclaimer: Same 1-4.
I don't know why I feel so hurt. I close the flat door behind me a little harder than necessary and make my way to my room. It isn't like there is anything between us at all. We didn't establish anything other than getting to know some basics about one another, so why am I pacing? I'm carrying myself back and forth across the carpet as tears come to my eyes. Pacing? Crying? Over what? Something that never began? It seems obvious he wants nothing to do with me, though there was something in his eyes contradicting him. It doesn't matter. He told me exactly what he thinks. I should drop the whole thing and forget about it.
Walking into my room, I throw my phone, earbuds, and keys onto my dresser before I begin taking off my shoes and stripping out of my work out clothes. I quickly toss them into my laundry bin and make my way into the bathroom for a shower. I need to get the sweat and the scent of him off of me as quickly as possible. I turn on the water and as I wait for the water to heat up I take off my undergarments and release my hair from the elastic band I had tied around it.
The water is the right temperature when I step inside the small cubicle and as I wash the remnants of my jog off my body I try to wash the thoughts of him away, too.
When I'm finished and toweled off, I head back into my room and put on one of the many outfits I use when I make pottery. Dressed, I go into the front room and over to the shelves where I keep my almost completed pieces. I have a couple of new pieces that have been drying and are ready to be placed in the electric kiln. I pull back the heavy plastic and bring out each piece one at a time, placing them in the kiln until all the pieces are inside. I put the plastic back in place and set the kiln to the correct temperature. I close the lid to the kiln as the door is opening, Gwen enters our flat.
"Hey," she greets as she places her work bag and purse on the floor near the door.
She closes the door and walks over to sit on the sofa.
"So, tell me all about it."
"About what?" I reply as I cross my arms in front of my chest.
"What do you mean 'about what'? About your date with you know John Bates the billionaire," she says, looking at me like it's completely obvious, which it was but I'm trying not to think about it.
"It wasn't a date," I state.
"Oh, really? I think him asking you to tea on what was most likely a break for him is a date."
"Well, if it was it didn't go very well."
"What? How do you mean?"
I sigh, round the sofa, and sit on the other end.
"I mean it's quite obvious I could never be good enough for a man like John Bates."
"What a load of rubbish! Anna, you are intelligent, creative, and totally gorgeous. John Bates would be damn lucky to have you," Gwen insists.
"He told me he wasn't the man for me, so I'm just taking that as his way of saying 'thanks but no thanks'."
"Maybe he's the one that thinks he's not good enough for you. Ever think about that?"
"No."
"Well, I think you should. If you could see how he kept looking at you today then you would think that way."
"I'd rather not talk about it, Gwen."
"All right," Gwen sighs. "Well, the article is done. Would you like to see it at least?"
I look to Gwen and find that I can't decline the offer.
"All right. I'll look at it."
Gwen gets up from the sofa, opens her work bag, and brings over the article. Handing it to me, I look at what is going to be published in the newspaper.
"Is this going in tomorrow?"
"It is."
The first thing that draws my attention is a picture of, Mr-Secret-Smile, himself on the right side of the page.
"How did you get this picture?"
"I spoke to his secretary, Phyllis, and got this picture approved for the article."
Phyllis. She must be the woman who sits at the desk outside of his office.
He is wearing a maroon, single-breasted, one button suit jacket with a white shirt, long black tie, and black trousers. His hair is combed over to the right, and I notice now he keeps it slightly long so he can comb it this way, which I like but I will not allow myself to think it. His express is stoic. By looking at him you can't tell if he's happy, sad, pleased, or displeased. He has more than likely perfected this expression over the years.
"So, what do you think?"
Gwen brings me out of my staring. I look up to her.
"You didn't even read it did you? Too busy staring. He'll be in black and white in the paper," she teased.
"Oh hush you. I was getting around to it."
I look back at the article and read it over. It is very well written in spite of the horrible interviewing job I did. It makes him seem like a fair business man with a heart for hydrating the world. I think he'll enjoy reading it.
"It's really good, Gwen."
"Thank you."
"I'm just going to go get some of my invoicing done in my room," I tell her as I hand the article back over and stand.
The following week, I return to my flat after personally delivering a few finished pieces. I park my car along the street and head for the lobby door. Most times I use other forms of transportation, but when I make deliveries locally I'm glad to have my car. It's an older, dark blue mini that I have had ever since I began driving.
Opening the door to my flat, I walk in and Gwen walks out of the kitchen. I close the door and place my purse on the table by the door.
"You've got a huge package over there," Gwen says as she points to where a big cardboard box is sitting behind the sofa.
"Me?"
"Yeah, there's a small note card but I didn't open it."
"Maybe it's from my mum."
Gwen just shrugs as I make my way to the box. I lift the note card envelope and slit it open. I unfold it and look to the paper.
Our doubts are traitors, and make us
lose the good we might oft win by
fearing to attempt.
Putting the note aside, I open the box to see an electric kiln inside, and not just any kiln, it's a Davinci X2327D. It's one of the most expensive in home kilns money can buy.
"Oh my God," I gasp as I look at it.
"Holy shit," Gwen remarks as she looks at it. "This kiln puts yours to shame. Was this Bates?"
"Who else would send me a very expensive kiln."
Gwen picks up the note and reads it.
"Well, he knows his Shakespeare, but what is he saying?"
"I can't think between the lines right now."
"All I know is he's definitely into you. Why else would he send you something so expensive yet personal."
"I don't care. This is way too over the top. I can't accept this. I'm going to give it back."
"Good luck with that. The thing weighs a ton."
That night after my shift at Jenkins a group of us decide to go down the pub for the night. We do this from time to time. A few of us from Jenkins will go plus Gwen and a couple of her colleagues, and Thomas.
"This music is shite," Thomas yells over the loud music blaring over the speakers.
"Whatever I like it," Gwen yells back as she looks to her co-worker Leslie.
Thomas rolls his eyes as Gary brings over another round of shots.
"Gary has the right idea," Gwen thinks out loud.
Gary sits on his chair and each one of us takes a shot glass in hand and downs the liquor.
"Oh my God! This song. We gotta dance to it," Gwen insists as she stands up.
Gary, Leslie, and one of my other co-workers Ben get up as well. Gwen never really has a problem with being the more popular one. For one she has beautiful red hair and her outfits are usually well put together. She knows what's in style and so forth. Me, I'm just a plain Jane. Tonight I'm wearing a simple black cotton tee, with jeans, and my Chaco sandals.
"So, you both still plan on coming to my show?" Thomas asks me.
I look over to him and feel my head spin.
"Yeah, of course. We have the details at home. We wouldn't miss your big break."
Thomas smiled, "I guess I'm just nervous is all."
"That's to be expected, but I have no doubt those ladies will look hawt!"
We both laugh at my choice of word, and it seems to quell Thomas' nerves for now.
I take my purse in hand and excuse myself to the loo. When I stand up I take a moment to make sure I don't fall over. When I feel like I can walk the distance to the loo, I make my way over to find a queue which is not a surprise.
As I wait, I open my purse to look for my phone, but laying on top of it if a piece of paper. I take it out to see in Gwen's handwriting John Bates' telephone number written on it.
When did she put this in my purse? Did she think I might call and invite him here? Well that's the last thing I plan on doing.
Looking at the number, I pull out my phone.
Maybe I can call to ask why he would send me something so outrageous when he doesn't think I'm good enough!
I type his number into my phone and push call.
"Anna May?" I hear him say when he picks up.
I begin to giggle at hearing him being caught off guard by me calling him, but my giggling stops when I realize through my haze that I've never called him before yet he knows it's me.
"Why would you send that to me? A fecking expensive kiln," I blurt out with slurred words.
"Are you all right? You don't sound right."
"No, it's you who don't sound right. Mr. Confusing."
"Anna May, are you drunk?"
"None of your business."
"Are you at home?" I can hear the concern in his voice.
"No, I'm out with friends, but I don't have to tell you that." Though I just did.
"Where are you?"
I laugh, "You already forgot where I live."
"Okay, so you're still in Hackney, but where."
"In a pub."
"Which pub?"
"A pub in Hackney." Hah!
I can hear him sigh through the phone. He gets so uptight.
"Do you have a way home?"
"I'll get there. Why did you send me that kiln, John?"
"Anna May, you need to tell me where you are right now."
There he goes with his authoritative voice again.
"And you need to tell me why."
"Anna, where the hell are you?"
I burst into giggles at him being concerned.
"Good night, John."
"Anna!"
I end the call as I'm next in line. When the next stale opens I go inside. I smile as I think about hanging up on him. It serves him right, though he didn't tell me why he sent the kiln. I pout.
It takes me much longer to finish up in the loo than I thought it would, but I've never been well and truly drunk before. I have been tipsy, but tonight just seemed like the night to go full on. Walking out of the loo, I hear my phone ringing from my purse. I pull it out. Oh, God.
"Hello," I speak quietly into the phone though the music is back to blaring.
"I'm coming to get you."
He hangs up, and I shove the phone back into my purse. From where he lives it would take more than likely forty-five minutes to an hour to get here if there was traffic, and besides he doesn't know where I am.
I make it back to our table and see they've ordered a pitch of ale. I look at it with disgust.
"Anna, where have you been?" Gwen yells.
"I have been in the queue for the loo. I think I'm going to step outside."
Gwen nods as the pitcher makes it to her.
I stumble a couple of times on my way out. When I reach the night air, the full impact of my drunkenness hits me. I am so messed up. I reach the wall of some flower beds and lean against it. I feel so nauseous. I think I might be ill.
"Hey, how you feeling?"
I see Gary approaching me.
"I think I might have to die before I feel better."
"Yeah, I've never seen you drink that much before. Here let me help."
He tries wrapping his arm around my back, but I try to move away from him.
"No thanks. I just need a few minutes."
He doesn't take the hint and holds me to him. I feel light-headed and now smothered by him holding me.
"No, Gary. Stop."
"Anna. Please."
It's at this that I can see his head leaning down towards mine. He's going to kiss me. Me and Gary are only friends, and I don't want this, any of this.
"Gary, no," I say as I try to push him back.
"Please," he whispers.
"No."
Oh, I am most definitely going to be ill.
"I believe Miss Smith said no."
I gasp at hearing his voice, and Gary turns around to meet a pair of very cold eyes.
"Mr. Bates," Gary clips.
All I see is two very pissed off men staring each other down, and I can no longer take it. My body gives way, and I retch on the pavement.
"Shit. Anna," Gary says and walks over to the entrance.
I feel soft hands on me as Mr. Bates turns me around so I can be sick in the flower bed. He collects my hair and holds it away from my face.
"I'll stay right here with you if you think you'll be ill again," he informs calmly.
I feel like sobbing but that would only add to my throbbing head. What a mess I am. I retch into the flower bed again as Mr. Bates puts an arm around my waist to keep me from crumbling to the floor. My mind goes blank for a while as my physical actions take over my mental ones. When my mind begins to clear I feel embarrassment wash over me.
I lift my head and breathe a few deep breaths. Mr. Bates hands me a white, linen handkerchief with JB monogrammed on it. I can't bring myself to ruin it.
"I can't use this," I say.
"Use it. I have plenty more."
I bring the cloth to my mouth and am thankful to be able to clan myself up some. I have a foul taste in my mouth which makes me almost outwardly cringe. I feel like I can't bring myself to face him. It's twice now that I have feel this way in front of him. The last one being his letting me down easy and now this.
I see Gary still lurking near the entrance. What an idiot. He's my friend. He shouldn't have tried for anything more.
"I'll see you inside," he says before he opens the door and goes inside.
We stand there in silence for a few seconds before I know I have to look at him. I'm pretty sure he'd wait here all night until I did.
I slowly tilt my head up and meet his eyes. They are focused on me, and I can't tell what he is thinking. What do I say?
"I'm sorry," I find myself saying.
"Sorry for what, Anna May?"
"For you seeing me like this. For the stupid phone call."
"Most of us have ended up in this situation one time or the other," he states. "I am one for pushing limits, but you need to think about your limits next time. Is this another habit?"
Is he lecturing me? Surely, he's not standing here while I'm feeling like I've been ran over repeatedly asking me if I get drunk on a regular basis. So what if I did? It's none of his business. I can't bring myself to tell him that though not when he's right here, but then again I didn't tell him to come here.
"No, it's my first time actually."
I feel myself wobble as my head swims. He holds me to him. He feels warm.
"Let's get you home."
"I need to let Gwen."
"I can call her from your phone."
"No, I need to tell her else she'll worry."
He gives me a hard look but gives in to my request.
In the next moment, he let's me go but takes my hand in his, and we walk back into the pub. He holds my hand firmly, trying to keep me steady, as we scan the area for Gwen. I spot her on the dance floor, and I point her out to Mr. Bates. He leans closer to me to see where I am pointing to and oh he smells so good. It smells as though he had just showered and sprayed himself with cologne, but maybe he always smelled that way. I'm broken from my daydream, which I have no doubt I'll be trying to process what that means over the next few days, as we make our way over to her.
When we reach her I explain to her I'm leaving with Mr. Bates. I know she wants to give me a wink but doesn't since he's standing right there. If she only knew what I had just done outside then she wouldn't be thinking what she was. There is no chance of anything like that happening.
Our conversation is brief before we set off again towards the entrance. He runs his hand through his hair a couple of times in frustration as people keep stepping in front of us. We finally make it outside, and it's the first time I notice what he is wearing. He's wearing a blue linen shirt, dark denims, and a pair of gray brogues. The top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and I can see a puff of hair poking out. He's quite manly.
My sight begins to tunnel as he starts to pull his phone out of his pocket. I feel my limbs loosening as my eyes start to go dark. I faintly see him shoving his phone back into his pocket and hear him yell out an explicit before I pass out in his arms.