-Day 13-

I don't get back from my meeting until nearly three. The presentation was at eleven. Then Godwin wanted to have lunch with Father and me, which took way too long because they were drinking. I didn't have any alcohol. So then I had to drop Father off at his house before returning to work myself.

I probably could have gone home as well, but any time I can be at the office without Father interrupting me, I take it.

But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to do any work.

I ring Guinevere, because I haven't talked to her all day apart from the Good luck, I know you will be great text I got from her this morning.

"Arthur! I've been dying all afternoon!" she exclaims.

"Sorry, I got dragged along to a lunch that dragged on," I explain. "I was going to text you, but then Father was all 'Who are you messaging? Surely nothing's that important blah blah blah, manners blah blah, probably sleep with that mobile in your hand, et cetera.' So I just put it away."

She's laughing at my Uther-voice again. "It's all right. My dad was kind of that way with technology as well. Must be a universal dad thing. So…?"

"We won the bid," I say, a smile creeping across my face.

"Did he love it? He loved it, didn't he?" she asks.

"They're going to go with my design and he says he doesn't want to change a thing."

She makes a happy little squeal that would be really annoying coming out of anyone else. "That is brilliant! Congratulations!" she says.

"So, I was thinking we need to celebrate both of our recent successes," I say.

"Hmm, sounds good."

"Are you free for dinner tonight? I'd like to take you out for a proper dinner."

"As opposed to an improper one?" she asks.

I swallow. An improper dinner could be quite…

No. Focus.

"Um, right," I stammer. "I mean like a nice dinner. Where we'd need reservations…"
"I know what you meant, Arthur. I just couldn't resist," she laughs.

"Couldn't resist messing with me again, right."

"Yes, I'm free for dinner," she finally answers my question. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Thought I'd see if the Firelight Room had any openings," I say.

"Fancy. I may have to sneak out early so I have enough time to look presentable," she says.

"You always look nice," I say.

"Well, thank you, but somehow I think the maitre d' might have a different opinion if I showed up wearing what I have on right now."

Phrase your next question carefully, Arthur, you don't want it to sound like one of those phone calls.

"Why, what could be so bad about what you're wearing?" That'll do.

"I'm in torn jeans and a t-shirt with a snake on it."

"A snake?"

"Um, yeah. It was a gift from Sefa. She said that snakes are considered the harbingers of female power."

"All right, then," I say. I certainly cannot dispute that Guinevere has power. Especially over me.

"I maybe was overstating things a bit, though. I just don't much want to be here at the moment. I love my job, but it's late Friday afternoon, and I just finished a big project."

"Yeah, I'm kind of only here in a physical sense as well," I say. "But I need to call the restaurant and see if they can take us."

"Right. Call them and text me so I know when to expect you," she says.

"All right."

"And if you can't get in there, I'm fine with whatever you find."

"Even if it's Gilli's Fish 'n' Chips?"

"Especially then," she says, laughing.

She has simple tastes, I realize. She doesn't need the fancy. Takes pleasure in the everyday things around her. It's refreshing and wonderful.

Still taking her out for the fancy, though.

xXx

I ring her bell at 6:45 sharp, and wait.

"Be right there, Arthur," her disembodied voice tells me. Suddenly I am seized by mild panic. How can she know for certain that it's me? Does she have a surveillance camera in her flat? Probably not. What if I wasn't me but some disgusting brute bent on doing her harm? This is not good.

Why am I so concerned?

I hear the click of the door's lock and she emerges from the door.

Dear God, her hair is loose. I haven't seen it all free like this. It's better than I'd imagined. I clench my fists inside my pockets to force my hands to stay out of it.

"Arthur? Are you all right?" she asks.

I swallow. My mouth is dry. "Your hair…"

Great. Now that slipped out.

"Oh, no, is it awful? Did I walk through a cobweb?" she starts fretting and patting at her lovely curls.

"No, I… really like it. I've never seen it all down like this," I say.

"Oh." She drops her hands. "I… don't normally wear it down because it gets in my way. Work, you know. I've even considered cutting it short, but…"

"No!" I interrupt, a little harsher than necessary. It's not my hair, it's hers. She can do what she wants with it. "I mean, that would be a shame if you did," I backpedal, a bit embarrassed at my outburst. "But it's your hair…"

She giggles at me now. "Maybe I'll have to wear it down more often. At least when I'm not at work," she says.

For me?

"Come, we don't want to be late," I say, opening the car door for her.

I walk around and climb in, and she leans over and kisses my cheek. "Hello, by the way," she says.

I smile back at her. She scowls and wipes my cheek with her thumb. "Lip gloss."

"I'm certain it looks better on you," I say, starting the car.

"Probably," she says, chuckling.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask after a bit.

"Of course. You can ask me anything you like," she says. Usually the people that say that don't mean it. Some even have something to hide and use it as a cover. She actually means it.

"When I buzzed just now, at your door, how did you know it was me?"

"Because you said you'd pick me up at 6:45, and it was 6:45," she answers, looking a little puzzled.

"Yes, but how did you know it was me? Do you have a security camera?"

"No…" she says, figuring out where I'm going with this question. "I probably shouldn't assume, should I?"

"Could be a creepy stalker down there," I say, frowning.

"It was tonight," she says, laughing.

"I'm not creepy!" I exclaim, laughing. I walked right into that one.

"Sorry, you're right," she says, recovering. "I should take more care." Then she smiles up at me.

"What?"

"You're worried about me. That's sweet."

I give a small shrug. "It's no big deal," I say. I wonder if I shouldn't have said anything.

I pull up to the valet and we climb out.

xXx

"So, tell me about your presentation," Guinevere says, taking a sip of her wine.

"Well, to be honest, I was a bit nervous," I say.

"You don't seem the nervous type," she says.

"I'm normally not. But…" I pause. I should have just cut to the chase. "I dated Mayor Godwin's daughter about a year ago."

"Ah, and you weren't sure if he…"

"Exactly."

"Was it a bad break-up?"

Elena. The girl I didn't really want to break up with. As a result, it did end badly. I had to completely lie. I told her I wasn't happy and wanted something different.

"A bit, yes," I say. "She didn't take it well. You… don't want all the details."

"Not really, no," she agrees, and I breathe again.

"Godwin wasn't Mayor then," I say.

"Yes, I did the math on that, thanks," she says, smirking. "Is she still in Camelot?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "She moved away. To America, actually. And it wasn't because of me. She was a horse breeder, and was offered a job in some place where horse racing is big. Kentucky, I think."

"Well, that's good, I guess."

"She's married now."

"How do you feel about that?"

How do I feel? Relieved. I didn't destroy her. She found happiness with someone who can actually give her happiness. "I'm happy for her. Honestly."

"So Godwin wasn't holding a grudge, then?"

"No, actually. The first thing out of his mouth to me was even 'Elena sends her greetings.' I was surprised."

The waiter materializes then, all sycophantic and fawning. This may be due to the fact that I just gave the name "Pendragon" when I made the reservation.

I do occasionally use my father's status to my advantage. And I always enjoy the thinly-veiled look of disappointment when they realize it's the younger Pendragon, not the older one.

Guinevere's right. I do have issues.

We order and I finish telling her about the presentation. Every time I sort of gloss over a detail because it's not that interesting, she makes me go back and fill in what I've left.

I tell her that her advice on the trees worked, too, and she grins smugly at me. Then our food comes.

She's ordered steak. Not a salad, not chicken or fish, but steak. It's just a six-ounce filet, but it's not some dainty girly meal ordered with the express intent of looking like she doesn't eat much. And she eats it like she's really enjoying it while still managing to be delicate and feminine.

"What is it, Arthur? Do I have something in my teeth? On my face?" she asks, bringing her napkin to her face and dabbing hastily.

I realize this is the second time I've been caught staring. Both times she's thought it was because something was wrong.

"I was just thinking that I like the fact that you ordered steak," I blurt. Now it's out and she's going to want to know why.

"What?" She looks puzzled.

"Oh. Um, well, usually on a date like this, the girl will order a salad or some small chicken meal or even fish. It's like they don't want me to know that they eat. It's irritating because of course I know they eat. Not like a person has a choice in the matter."

She chuckles and digs back in, cutting a bite-sized piece of her steak. "I guess I'm just different that way," she shrugs.

"I'm glad," I say.

Please, continue to stomp all over my rules if it means you'll be this refreshingly straightforward.

"I'm glad you're glad," she says, smiling at me again. "I don't see the point in pretense. If people don't like me for who I am, that's not really my problem."

"I wish more people were secure enough to feel that way," I say.

"Do you feel that way?"

"It's… more difficult for me. What with the whole posh father and all. Sometimes people pretend to like me because of what I am instead of who I am. It makes it difficult to trust people sometimes."

"I already liked you before I found out your last name," she tells me, pointing her fork at me. There's a carrot speared on the end of it.

"I know," I smile. "And in the past, it's been my fault, too. I used it to my advantage."

"Kind of like you did tonight, to get this reservation?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"What? I…"

She laughs now. "I saw them trying to stop their faces from falling when they realized it wasn't Uther coming to dine," she chuckles.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I ask.

"Always," she says, leaning towards me.

"I love doing that, actually. Making them squirm like that, as they try to not let their disappointment show. Busting through their carefully-schooled façade."

She laughs. "You are odd, but I like it."

xXx

"I had a really nice time, Arthur," she tells me, as always, as we stand on the pavement outside her door, her hands in mine. "I'm not going to need to eat for two days…"

I chuckle. "That dessert was worth it, though," I say. "I am glad we split it." She looks so beautiful in the soft glow of the streetlamps. If she invited me up, I think it would be very hard to say no tonight. Between the excellent meeting today and the excellent date tonight, this has been one of the best days I've had in awhile, and I allow myself a few brief moments to be happy before reality slams its fist into my bollocks.

"What is it, Arthur?" she asks. Was I drifting? I was drifting.

"Just enjoying how lovely you look tonight," I say. Only half of what I was thinking about, but it'll do.

"Oh," she says, looking down at her feet. She's waiting for me to do something.

My hands move before I have a chance to give serious thought, and I'm pulling her towards me, moving us into the relative seclusion of her doorway as I enfold her in my arms.

"Guinevere." I whisper her name just before I claim her lips with mine. She melts against me, her arms snaking around my neck.

I allow one hand to creep higher, holding the back of her head softly, just to feel her curls against my hand.

She feels so good in my arms. It's like her body was created from the negative space of the mold that made me; we fit together so perfectly. Her full lips are so soft and so lush.

And sweet. She is incredibly sweet, and for a moment I wonder if it's the remains of dessert.

She makes a beautiful sound, a whimpering sigh. My tongue goes investigating, searching out more of her sweet flavor, and her lips part immediately for me. Her tongue meets mine, darting and dancing, and I feel stirrings in places that haven't felt like being stirred in months.

Vaguely I'm aware of people occasionally strolling past; vaguely I'm aware that we're drawing looks as we lose ourselves in one another in her doorway.

I don't care. She is wonderful.

Too wonderful.

I come to my senses, pulling away as gently as I can, shoving the mounting despair down with an imaginary boot. Her lips follow mine briefly, reluctant to leave them. Slowly her eyes open.

"Bloody hell," I whisper, my voice hushed. My arms haven't figured out how to let go of her yet.

"Oh, yeah," she agrees, exhaling heavily. She blinks. "You're still not going to come up, are you?" she asks, but it's not really a question.

"Not yet."

"I'm not trying to seduce you, really," she says softly. "I'm just… greedy for time…"

I believe her.

I kiss her forehead, because it's a relatively safe place. But I can smell her hair when I do that, proving my theory wrong. "I know," I say. "It's not that I don't want to, but I just… can't. Not yet."

She nods.

"I know I'm a right pain in the arse."

"You're not. I just wish I knew what was going on inside that brain of yours sometimes," she says, tapping my forehead with her finger.

"I wish I knew, too, sometimes," I chuckle, but there is no humor there.

She lifts up on tiptoe and kisses the edge of my jaw. "What time tomorrow?" she asks quietly, catching me off guard again. She's not going to pursue this topic further. I am confused, but grateful.

"The match is at noon, so I'll pick you up at eleven. That way we can at least try to get good parking."

"Okay," she says, leaning against me in a lazy sort of hug for a moment. "One more?"

I reach around and tilt her chin up, kissing her. I stubbornly keep my mouth closed this time, but I can still taste her sweet lips.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she says, pulling away.

"Goodnight, Guinevere. See you tomorrow."

She unlocks her door and slips quietly inside, and I exhale heavily, leaning against the wall for a few moments. I'm afraid my legs won't support me right now.

My heart hurts.