CHAPTER SEVEN
Belle mumbled her thanks as she sat down in the chair that Gold had pulled out for her. He scooted her in and then took his place across from her and flashed a toothy grin. While Gold ordered a wine, she fumbled with her cloth napkin, spreading it out on her lap.
Cloth napkins, genuine silver silverware, pricey wines and Ella Fitzgerald crooning in the background! Belle swallowed, wishing her throat and her chest didn't feel so tight. She had brought her credit and she had plenty in savings, but she hadn't expected Gold to choose some place so expensive as his payment for their deal.
But a deal was a deal. She wasn't about to balk about it.
Gold eyed her and leaned in. "Are you uncomfortable? We can go somewhere else."
The man missed nothing. How she thought she could hide her unease from him was beyond her. He looked delicious in his darkly tailored suit, which fitted his slim build to a "T." More and more she wondered what Gold looked like without his suit on…without anything on.
Even if this evening did cost her an arm and a leg, he was worth it.
"No, this is fine." Belle assured him. "Lovely, even."
"Good." Gold took a small swig of his water. "Well, order whatever you like, price is no object."
Belle nodded, feeling very confused. She had assumed that by the way he phrased it the other evening, that he wanted her to treat him to a meal. But now it seemed as though Gold was treating her to a night out.
So he didn't expect her to pay. Just what does Gold want from me? Belle supposed that he would let her know in the course of the evening; she only hoped that she could pay the price of the deal. Though he never behaved so around her, Gold had a notorious reputation for being shrewd, always gaining the upper hand of a bargain.
"They have everything, but mostly Italian." Gold continued, lacing his fingers together, he then tented them. "I think you like the cuisine, right?"
"Yes, I do." Belle nodded.
The waiter returned and poured each of them a glass of wine. Scanning over her menu, she chose the manicotti and to her surprise he asked for the same, his voice quavering. Their waiter uttered a "Very good," and departed, leaving behind a basket of breadsticks.
Gold fidgeted in his seat, either unable to get comfortable or something else bothered him. His color was heightened, leaving him flushed behind the candlelight. Never before had she witnessed him in such a flustered state.
"Are you all right?" Belle asked.
Gold offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry. It's been awhile for me." He added, as if he could sense her bewilderment. "To be out."
Of course! Gold was not the most social man in Storybrooke. In fact, he was quite the opposite. The only time she had seen him out after dark was on the night of her visit to the Rabbit Hole, and evidently that was to check on his property. Clearly he and Jefferson did things together, but she had never heard about either appearing together in public, on a date. Storybrooke was a small, backwards place. They would not openly welcome a same-sex couple. Were Gold and Jefferson to venture out, tongues of Storybrooke would wag non-stop.
"I'm not overly social either." Belle shrugged her shoulders. Their situations were pretty opposite, but she could relate to feeling out of place. If one did not fall in line in Storybrooke, one did not fit in at all. "Most of my evenings are spent at home, with my father, reading a book."
"I, uh, I think it's remarkable that you live together." Gold said, off-handedly.
She knew what he meant, but was too polite to say. That it was odd for her at age 30 to still be living at home with her father. And it was. It was odd in this day and age. But like every other area in her life, she merely returned home after college and never left.
"Well, we grew close after my mother died. Our living situation can't last forever, but I worry what might happen if I do leave." Belle said.
Gold took another drink, this time of the wine and carefully sat the glass down. "You know, I think as long as you're happy, he'll be happy."
Belle knew he was right. Her father had gone over and beyond to help her with her transformation, of course in his own awkward manner. But to just leave so abruptly…she didn't know if she could do it.
She paused, a shocked by this little epiphany. It wasn't her father who needed her. Oh, yes, he depended on her. No, she was the one who needed him more. The whole time at college, she was homesick and lived for the visits home, as well as the phone calls and the care packages.
Belle blinked back her tears. I can't do this now. Grabbing a breadstick from the basket, she tore into it, popping a piece in her mouth. "Okay, enough about me. I realized on the way here, that I know next to nothing about you." Like a gentleman, he picked her up at 7pm and the ride over had been unusually quiet, but during that short drive, she came up with a number of things to ask him. "Like your first name."
"My name?" Gold's mouth fell open and she thought he was on the verge of denying her that when he replied, "Tobias."
"Tobias." Belle repeated, loving the fact that she alone – except for perhaps Jefferson – knew his name. But Tobias was perfect – unique, mysterious, strong. No need for a nickname, Tobias stood alone. "That suits you. May I call you that?"
"Of course, by all means." He gestured to her.
"Great." Emboldened by this small victory, of knowing the illusive Mr. Gold's real name, she felt at liberty to ask him other things. "And I've been dying to know how you got into theater and why you left."
"Well, I originally wanted to act, but I was terrible." Gold admitted with a small chuckle and touched his temple with latent embarrassment. "So, I switched my college major to fashion design which led to costuming, and that eventually led to me dabbling in makeup. Well, I initially liked the creative process and working behind the scenes." The carefree look he had before slowly fell away and his expression became melancholy. "I was in a relationship but it wasn't what I thought it was. I learned how superficial that world was and I left. I used my savings to buy my rental properties and here I am. My shop was another dream of mine."
No wonder Gold had been so supportive of her makeover. He really did understand, that lonely feeling of having no one and nothing, and having to start at the bottom. Storybrooke underestimated this man – she too had underestimated him. That he had been hurt by someone he loved, yet had encouraged her to believe in love and find it for herself, was inspiring.
"That's amazing. You've created and recreated yourself." She observed.
Belle cheered inwardly as the waiter carried over the orders, laying their plates before them. The waiter left again, offering them their privacy.
The steam pluming off her portion of manicotti made her hair frizz a bit. Slicing into it, she stuck a section with the prongs of her fork, blew on it and poked it between her lips. The spices in the sauce danced on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed and closed her eyes to savor the flavor.
"You're the amazing one." Gold's amused tone awakened her and drew her back into reality. Lifting her eyes to him, she watched as he dove into his meal. "Were you...did you ever date?" he queried.
"Not really." Belle sighed, feeling a little wistful. She had known a number girls who had met their True Love's in college; however, she never even came close. "I tried a little bit in college, but boys were only interested in that one thing. They were never interested in me as a person. It hasn't changed much, has it?"
Her encounters with Killian Jones proved that. She estimated that he was in his thirties and he was on the prowl, like a tom cat that needed to be neutered. Gold had been the only exception to the rule; however, he was off-limits to her.
Jefferson better treat Gold right. Belle's fingers curled around her fork. Or he'll have me to deal with. She wasn't confrontational, but after learning that Gold had been hurt from another relationship, she found herself protective of her friend. Having met Jefferson only once, she found him charming and kind, but all-in-all a flirt.
"It more depends on the man." Gold countered gently. "Anyone who makes you feel pressured, they're not worth your time." He laid his knife down and extending his arm, he held his hand open. "Do - do I make you feel uncomfortable?"
Belle reached for him, grasping his long fingers. "Of course not! I've enjoyed our time together." Some people might be uncomfortable with his lifestyle, but she was not one of them. She might be naïve of the ends and outs of how such a relationship worked, but she figured that the trick was to treat him as she treated everyone else. Which meant she would have to be honest about her bewilderment. "One thing confuses me though. Why did you want my favor to you to be a meal?"
"I like having your company." Gold ducked his head, his salt and pepper floof shrouded his angular features. "It was a backwards way for me to be with you. Most don't want to be around me."
Gold wanted a friend. He might not want her romantically, but he did want her friendship. If that was all she could offer him, companionship, then she would be more than willing to give it to him. Better to have him in her life as a friend, than not at all.
Belle tightened her grip on him. "That is their loss. They are just prejudiced." She insisted, her temper rising. That anyone would be openly hateful towards him infuriated her. Storybrooke was too narrow-minded for its own good. "Tobias, you are a good man. Jefferson thinks so too."
"Right. But it's your opinion that matters most to me." Gold cradled her hand, his fingertips stroked her palm.
Crossing her legs, squeezing her thighs together, she fought her dirty thoughts, of him stroking her elsewhere. "I like you very much and I want to be your friend." Belle stated.
"I like you too, Belle." His eyes softened and looked a little glassy. Lifting her knuckles to his lips, he kissed the ridge.
Belle sighed. Friendship would be enough; it would have to be.
#
Gold's foot trembled as he switched from the accelerator to the break, parallel parking his Cadillac alongside the curb, in front of "Game of Thorns." Shutting off the engine, he and Belle swapped twin bashful smiles.
Aside from a little confusion, once he called upon what little courage he had clarified his intentions in regards to her, the date went smoothly. Well, except for when his bumped his wrist against his glass and came close to spilling wine on Belle, he had nothing to be embarrassed about.
He was relieved that she had chosen to wear the pink dress rather than the lacey black number that should be considered illegal in all fifty states. Not that he hated the black dress – on the contrary - he liked it far too well and hoped that Belle would wear it again someday. For him alone. But the pink frock was sexy enough in its own demur way. The sweetheart neckline alluded to sex by innocently pointing to her bust and the skirt flared out over her knees and swayed when she moved.
Pulling the key out of the ignition, Gold stuck them in his trousers' pocket. "May I see you to the door?"
Belle nodded.
Gold climbed out of the driver's seat and with cane in hand, he ambled over to her side and assisted her out of the car. Offering her his arm, her small hands curled around his elbow, and together they advanced to the door of the shop.
"I had a wonderful time." Belle paused and drew back from him.
Gold tightened his hold on his cane in a pitiful attempt to disguise his tremors. Throughout the evening, his shook, from nerves. He had never been good at first dates; coupled that with the fact that it had been twenty years since his last "first date" and that he was out with the woman he loved, was more than his reserve could bear. If Belle picked up on his apprehension, she was too polite to say. They spent a perfect evening together, sharing of their pasts and talking of what interested in them. It was perfect.
Then the evening came to a close, the deal had been fulfilled, and Gold had to have more of her company. One date was not going to be enough for him. And from the way Belle spoke and behaved, she wanted more too. God only knew why she reciprocated his feelings, but he was grateful that she did.
"Me too." Gold mustered, losing himself in her blue depths. "Would you- would you like to go out again?"
"Sure." Belle replied.
"Great." Gold's gaze settled on her delectable lips.
One kiss…please, just one. He pleaded, hoping that someone in the universe was listening to his desperate prayers.
Belle rested her hand on his wrist and inclined towards his cheek. Jefferson had instructed him to let her set the pace and he should heed his friend's advice, but unable to resist temptation, Gold turned his head at the last second and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted of spicy tomato sauce and sweet wine; he was already addicted and thirsted for more, but before he lost too much control, he jerked back.
Belle released him and fumbled for the knob, slumping a bit against the door. She was gaping at him, her face still too pale under the night sky and the weak porch light.
Idiot, you went too fast! He cursed himself for his selfishness. A little was never enough for him; he had to take it all.
"Belle, I apologize." Gold's fingers twitched towards her, but he stuck his free hand in his pocket. "I should have asked first, but I'm rusty at this. I'm sorry."
Belle was still staring and when she did finally find her voice, it was high pitched. "What about Jefferson?"
Jefferson? Gold grimaced. What the hell did Jefferson have to do with any of this? She had mentioned him once before during the meal, but he was too caught up with the fact that she agreed to be his friend and spend more time with him to give it much thought.
His heart constricted sharply, knocking the wind out of him. Perhaps Belle kept hinting about Jefferson because she was interested in him. Perhaps she had only agreed to be my friend to be with Jefferson. He never would have pegged Belle to use him in such a manner, but she wouldn't have been the first. It made more sense than her genuinely returning his feelings.
"What about him?" Gold groused, knowing that whatever came out of her mouth next, he was going to hate it.
"He's your...boyfriend." Belle said, wrapping her arms around her slim frame.
Boyfriend? Gold blinked and was struck dumb for at least a minute. He wasn't sure he even heard her right. Let alone understood her.
It took him three tries before he could give a coherent response. "My what?"
"I thought...You're gay…" Belle stammered and then given him a quick once over with a scrutinizing gaze, which would have more than flattered him earlier, she deduced, "You're not gay?"
"No." Gold drew in a breath, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate and his chest felt heavy. "Why would you think that I'm gay?"
"You - you know about makeup and fashion." Belle slurred her words, tripping over them frantically, in an attempt to justify herself. "You were involved in theater. You live in a pink house. Papa said…I mean, I thought..."
Gold frowned and counted to ten. He couldn't care less if anyone thought he was gay. It hadn't been the first time someone suspected him of being so. Society – people to be more specific – were desperate to figure him out. However, he had always believed that his sexuality was a private matter and until now, until he had gotten to know Belle, he never much cared to explain himself to anyone.
But Belle thought he was gay. That was what she had expected of him; that was what she had wanted. She wasn't in love with him; she had no romantic feelings for him whatsoever. In her mind, he was just another friend who she could discuss clothes and makeup with.
"This was a date?" Her eyes softened, her lower lip trembled.
"It was for me." Gold withdrew his hand from his suit jacket pocket and slid it into his trouser pocket to extract the car keys. He had to get out there and fast.
"Tobias, I'm sorry." Belle took a step towards him, her expression full of remorse.
He bit down on his tongue, to keep from losing his temper. He wasn't angry with her; he had no reason to be angry with her. No, he was angry with himself. Angry that he had allowed himself to hope against hope that she could love him in return.
Gold's jaw hardened as he fought to keep his resolve. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He waved her off and turned away from her. "We'll end it here. Thank you for your time, Miss French. Have a good evening."
He ignored the fact that she was still watching him, brushing tears off her cheeks, as he left and drove off, reminding himself that Belle merely felt bad for the misunderstanding.
I'll get over this. Gold stopped at a red light and slammed the heel of his palm on the steering wheel.
Like every other hurt and failure in his life, he'd get over this one too.
#
Belle couldn't catch her breath, choking back sobs, as she stumbled into the shop. Tobias isn't gay, Tobias isn't gay, Tobias isn't gay! The thought flittered through her mind, coinciding with each palpitation of her heart. The man she loved was straight as they come but now hated her for buying into the stereotype that only gay men were thespians, knew how to dress a woman, knew makeup and owned pink houses. I'm so stupid!
Gold was everything she wanted in a man. Smart, funny, classy, handsome and he was attracted to her in return. He was right in her grasp, then she ruined it all by allowing her own foolishness to get the better of her.
She kicked off her heels, promising herself that she'd pick them up later. Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran up to the second floor and barreled into the apartment.
Papa was reclining in his easy chair, still munching on peanuts, watching the game. The second he picked up on her distraught expression, he slammed down the leg rest and shot to his feet. Peanuts went flying! "What happened? Pumpkin?" He hurried to her. "What did that bastard do to my little girl?"
Belle shook her head. Sweet and mild manner as her father was, if he thought she had been wronged by Gold, he would tear the Scotsman from limb to limb. No matter if Gold owned all of Storybrooke and could buy and sell her father out a hundred times over, Papa would mutilate him.
"Papa, Gold isn't gay." Belle took yet another swipe at her cheeks. Black residue discolored her fingers. Her mascara was smearing and she probably looked like a raccoon, but none of that mattered.
"What?" Papa's round face puckered in confusion.
"He's not gay." Belle shuddered, another sob overtaking her. "Gold isn't gay and he likes me."
"Well, okay. Good." Papa rooted around in his jeans pocket, pulled out his handkerchief, and then handed it to her. "This is what you wanted."
Belle dried her face and agitated by the sudden turn of events; she twisted the cloth into knots. "Not good. I told him I thought he was gay. I screwed up!" She raised her palm to her brow. "He hates me now."
"It was a misunderstanding." He placed his large hands on her shoulders and softly compressed them. "Belle, if this man likes you, a misunderstanding will hardly scare him off."
"You didn't see his face." Belle countered.
She had never seen someone look so hurt before. Gold had to hate her. Were she to have mistaken any other straight man for being gay, they would have been highly insulted and disgusted by her. Gold was not like most straight men, but his cold expression said it all. The mask that he often worn for others – the one he had never worn with her – had returned and he made it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
Ergo, he hated her. The man she loved hated her.
"I'm not cut out for dating." Belle tore herself away from her father and fled to her bedroom. "This was a mistake." She said before slamming the door behind her.
"Pumpkin-" Her father's muffled call went unnoticed by her.
Belle shed her dress, leaving her only in her slip and underwear, and fell into her bed, mashing her smudged face into the pillow. Her tears continued to flow.
The meal had been a date. Her first real date, with a man she liked and wanted, and it had gone perfectly until the end. Of course she had been none the wiser of Gold's feelings. Had she known it was a date, she would have been nervous, but she would have been ecstatic that he liked her. Gold walked her to the door, as a gentleman was supposed to and…
That kiss!
Belle brought her fingers to her lips, still relishing in the delicious soft pressure of his mouth upon hers. It was a simple, chaste kiss but magical. That kiss awakened her from her stupor and left her eager for more. The term "ovary explosion" hadn't made sense until that moment.
She should have shut her mouth, but no, she had to blurt out that she thought he was gay. Gold recoiled and couldn't get away fast enough.
Thirty, flirty, and thriving…what a waste. Her whole plan was stupid.
Love was not for her. There was no point in trying to find someone else, Gold was it. If she couldn't have him, then she didn't want anyone.
I've already been alone for thirty years, why not the rest of my life?