Chapter 20

Some moments later they were seated. John had them taken to a table where they were hardly surrounded by any of the other diners. They were given the feeling of being secluded, or at least that they had some privacy in a public place. Waiters wore crisp white shirts and the tablecloth was long, trailing down to the floor. Billie hid her bags under the table, resting back comfortably in her seat. John sat across the table, eying her flirtatiously. It was different being with him alone, without anyone either of them knew. It made her nervous, feeling as though she was unprotected but not unsafe. When they were in the company of others there was always someone there to stop or interfere with their actions. It gave the impression that there was something Billie needed to be cautious of. Now there was absolute freedom and though she had made it to that point, in that seat, she was still debating the concept.

Before they were alone very long one of the sharply-dressed figures was at the table. Politely Billie looked to the woman when she was spoken to but John's eyes never left her. He wasn't at all interested in the waiter though she was female and, as Billie considered her, attractive. She was asking for beverages and the younger girl looked back to the unfaltering eyes of her male companion.

"You want some wine, Doll?"

A light shade of pink crossed her cheeks before her gaze went back to the waitress, declining his offer and asking instead for a simpler and non-alcoholic drink. She dismissed herself and Billie let her eyes linger on her lap a moment, overwhelmed by his attention. No one ever asked if she wanted a drink, a real drink, probably assuming that because of her age she wouldn't be interested. When he asked her it was as if that didn't cross his mind at all. He never looked, spoke, or acted like she was the person she was, but it was never taken in an undermining way. If anything it was encouraging. He looked at her like a woman and no doubt expected her to act as such.

Billie looked up again and found his eyes had not moved away. Letting out a bashful laugh her hand briefly came to rest on her forehead. "You're starring at me," she whispered.

"You're beautiful."

Another laugh came out, shy yet flattered. He'd called her beautiful many times already that day, and though there was far more he could say to describe her he was having trouble being eloquent. He was, admittedly, infatuated. His mind was an utter blur aside from her and her alone. It was one of those rare and blissful moments where only in hindsight could he fully appreciate the depth of it, whereas in the present he was almost senseless. Billie started to believe the extent of her power, at least over him, and his emotions. Anyone could stare at her and say pretty things, but no one could look the way he did. It had to be real.

"I think you're beautiful," she told him quietly with a smile, it growing larger when he reacted to the compliment.

John smiled, his eyes finally parting from her to glance into his own lap, perhaps turning pink at her words himself. He was no stranger to compliments; he'd been called handsome, among other things, very frequently, but- beautiful? It didn't seem fitting. Even on his best day he wouldn't consider himself that. Then again, he thought sullenly, she didn't really know him or who he was. If she did she might reconsider her words.

Out of everyone in the room, and everyone in his world for that matter, John couldn't stop looking at her. He thought she was beautiful. He hadn't even looked at the waitress when she came by and once again Billie wondered what was so great about her when he could have anything he wanted. She looked at him evenly and asked. "Why aren't you with someone?"

He understood her completely and knowing he would have to answer caused his consciousness to return gradually. As it did came the heaviness of worry and resentment. He leaned back in his seat and looked downward, even as their drinks were placed on the table and they ordered, and a few moments later lifted his head again. The truth was he wasn't alone often, but none of that was substantial, and it was in the awareness of that when he felt the most alone. "It's hard to get on the same page with some folks," he replied simply though it meant much more. However, that wasn't what he needed to say; what she needed to hear. "I was married once."

"Married?"

Her eyes widened and for a second she felt a rush of passionate emotion- something like jealousy or betrayal or sadness. Perhaps all three, but it was short lived. Just as quick she reminded herself that he was all but a stranger and with much more life under his belt than herself. He would surely have done things, experienced things. Things she dreamt of in her future were in his past; marriage would of course be one of those things. She had to realize he had been in love before, made love, gave love and lost love. In understanding she felt herself loosing some of the distinction she had felt previously.

It hurt to see a flash of recognizable emotion cross her face, he seeing it in her eyes. He didn't know what it was but it was openly there.

"Why, er," she coughed lightly. "What happened?"

He stirred in his seat. Did she want to know just to know, or to judge him on some point? Did she think it was his fault that the marriage failed and was waiting to hear the problem and compare it to what she suspected? He may have been around women frequently but that didn't mean he understood them. His ex-wife had divorced him while he was in prison serving an eight year sentence, but by the time he'd received the request the feeling was mutual. At the moment he couldn't reveal those certain details.

"Well..." he gave a sigh before beginning. "When I married I was very young. It...it seemed like the thing to do. It hadn't been right, but it seemed like the next step, and I guess you could say we felt obligated to do it. We weren't even very good friends... It didn't last too long, and when she divorced me it seemed...appropriate."

He was making excuses though trying not to take away from the truth. He didn't want to dwell on the subject or her to over-think it. In that sense he was more correct about her thoughts for she took a great deal of notice that he wasn't the one who initially ended the marriage. She did not speak, and as he got worried he leaned forward to save the moment. "That's in my past doll, and that's where it should stay. I don't want us to talk about it now..."

She tried to offer him a smile but at the moment it was wary and they both were aware of it. He wasn't with that woman anymore nor did he want to be. What he wanted was to be there with her, and in believing this she almost regained some of the superiority she wanted to feel.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked quietly, enticing him in a way she didn't realize.

The smile was easy for him to give again. "Us."

Slowly getting back into the mood her shoulders relaxed. "Us... What about us?"

His eyes became dreamy again as he looked at her. "You wanna be my girl?"

"Your girl?" she repeated looking startled. Her reaction amused him and he smiled, reaching his hand across the table with his palm open. Seeing that he wanted her hand she met his halfway and their palms rested against each other. Just a touch could cease any great distance they felt between one another. A touch made them whole.

They had barely another moment to relish in the feel of each other when the waiter returned, carrying plates of food. It was hard to hold back an annoyed glare but in doing their best the woman was gone in moments. Now with both hands to herself Billie could begin to eat her meal, but when she gazed down at the plate she could no longer recognize her appetite. Glancing up to John again she found he was not eating either.

"Come here, sweetheart," he called to her softly, leaning back in his seat and patting his knees. Before moving Billie colored lightly, looking all around her. She looked to see if others were watching but told herself even if they were it wouldn't matter. It was improper for them to show affection at all and to so in public felt like another infringement. Rising with a shy kind of confidence she crossed half of the table and let herself into his open lap, her arm draped around his shoulder. Lightly his hand held her around the waist, smiling at how light she was and the support he felt from her arm around him.

Once again they were close. He could see clear into her eyes, noticing happiness and hesitation. It was hard for her. There was still a debate happening between her head and heart; what she wanted and what she believed was right. Finding her hand he held it, their fingers twisting and he watching them intently. Similar to the touch they'd shared in the car their hands were momentarily the center of their focus.

"Are you still afraid?" he asked her. He thought of his own feelings and how they could easily mirror hers. He wasn't sure he had fear or concern. He liked this girl and knew he had all the potential even to love her, but he worried she or their relationship would end up just like all this others. He wanted this to be different.

Billie gave him a little nod. She was quite sure what she felt was fear and it was for herself. She was already, and maybe unhealthily, infatuated with the man though she knew better. She knew these weren't rational emotions and that there were great differences between them, enough to know she would almost certainly be hurt. It was another naive wish to want this to be the start of a fairy tale, knowing that the chances of it failing were higher than otherwise. It wouldn't be easy. Then, if they choose to have a relationship she couldn't afford to have any doubt. That alone would ruin them.

"Do you think...it's wrong?" his voice sounded again, curious in tone. He could see the wheels turning as she thought, carefully deciding what she would say. He hoped it wasn't bad, and she worried about offending him.

"No..." she shook her head. "It's not wrong to me. To everyone else..." she let the comment hang, looking at him reluctantly. She gained a bit of hopefulness a moment later, needing to hear what he had to say, to be reassured. "What do you think?"

"Well, you're right doll. A lot of people wouldn't exactly approve of us together like this, but...by the time my mother was your age she was married... It's not like we're the first, and if you think of it that way it doesn't seem wrong at all."

It wasn't completely convincing but it was enough to know he didn't think it was inappropriate. He wouldn't have asked her to lunch, or even acknowledged his feelings for her if he thought otherwise. Still, his answer caused her to believe he was still seeking alternative means to validate their situation rather than believing it in himself. She needed more.

"We need to be on the same page," she told him quietly, slightly awestruck that she was looking into his perfect chiseled face and was talking about their relationship. "If we both don't believe in what we're doing and stand by it and...are willing to go to such great lengths... Well, I can't do it by myself. I need you to keep myself strong."

She didn't want him to get the idea that she couldn't stand alone without him, but in order to thrive together they needed to be a team. In saying this it showed John how serious she was. Even if she didn't exactly know how to handle an older man she was trying, and that alone was more than some woman his age had ever given him. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek, holding a small grin but knowing things were not automatically lighthearted after his show of affection.

"I'm right here, doll. With you." He gave her hand a squeeze, their grip tightening.

Though she smiled another shadow crossed her face. "It's going to have to be a secret..."

He too would have to work, perhaps more than herself, to keep their relationship discreet. It would be a stress but one they both seemed able and willing to do. Nodding he looked into her eyes, his voice coming out with bits of that overwhelming intensity. "I don't want you to worry about a thing."

They became quiet. She continued to touch on his hand, he thinking that maybe she wanted to be familiar with some part of him before moving on to another. Her interest, care, and even hesitation never failed to enchant him, no matter how small. He thought of her and their future and how he wished to wipe away all the uncertainty. "I'll be good to you," he said, his voice a low rumble. She looked up to meet his eyes and he could see that smile on her face- the one she made when she was happy but skeptical. "Dresses like this," he gestured toward her. "I can give you a whole wardrobe. Anything you want."

She shook her head. "That's not important," Billie told him. Deep down he knew this too. Knowing that anyone, let alone him, wanted to lavish her with gifts was flattering, but she knew better than to realize that meant everything. Another concern crossed her mind, she wondering if he imagined buying her things was all that was required to win her love.