It was a fluke that Becca even glanced out of the kitchen door at all. The restaurant, one of the swankiest in Burleigh Head on the Gold Coast, was in the midst of the evening rush on Friday night. As the under chef, second in command of the kitchen, Becca couldn't let her attention stray from the task at hand for more than a second. She oversaw the details of each dish and kept the kitchen team running smoothly. As one of the waiters swept out through the swinging kitchen doors with an armful of small plates, she happened to glance up and saw into the crowded dining area. She did a quick double take but the door had swung closed.
No fucking way did I just see who I think I did…
She took a minute to lecture one of the sauce chefs about being too heavy handed with the coriander in the drizzle for the evening's fish before giving into the temptation to take a proper look at the dining area.
She made sure she wasn't about to clock a waiter on the other side of the door and swung the door wide, wiping her hands on a dishcloth before throwing it into the laundry bin just inside the doorway.
It is him! I can't fucking believe it.
She paused in the passageway between the kitchen and the dining area and stared out at the two men seated at a small table in the midst of the crowd. One of them she didn't recognize. The other was definitely who she thought it was. She had watched him eat her cooking every day for almost two years. He had the same look on his face now that he used to get when he had let himself get too hungry.
She knew if she walked over there and said 'hello' in person the kitchen would fall behind. With the head chef off for the night, it was her responsibility to make sure the night went smoothly.. She checked her watch, the last seating was at 10pm and then she had to make sure the team was prepped for tomorrow...she could probably be free by midnight.
She swept back into the kitchen, yelling to her staff, "Table 12, what's their order?" Over the din of the kitchen, one of her team read off the order slip to her. She grabbed a spare order pad from the bench near the door and scribbled out a note:
"Glad to see you're not still ordering chips," signed it, "Bomber," including her phone number and a "P.S. I should be done with work by midnight if you're around?"
"Ok, team! This note," She waved the note she had written, "goes out with the food for Table 12. Tell the waiter to let the customer know it's from the chefo!" She yelled the order at them. The cooks at the end of the line, the sauce chef and the new girl in charge of garnishes replied with a "Yes, chef," without even looking up from their tasks. Becca grinned to herself as she jumped back into the fray of the overheated kitchen.
He'll probably be busy tonight. But maybe he's in town all weekend and we can catch up over a coffee.
Billy sat back in his chair and resisted the urge to pat his stomach in satisfaction. He wasn't on a ship, he reminded himself, he was in a fancy restaurant where people didn't show appreciation for the food by patting their full stomachs and swearing about how great the scran was.
He was currently three days into a seven day holiday and had joined a mate for a few days of surfing at The Spit. The last time they had met up was years ago, so to celebrate the fact that they were no longer hapless twenty-somethings, they had made reservations to eat at the swankiest restaurant they could find to prove how grown-up they were now.
Am I proving it to myself or to him? Is this a competition? If it is, I bet I'm winning...
They easily chatted about the latest football trades and stats. His friend, who had recently opened his own coffee shop in Brisbane, whinged on about financing and expenses. Billy was disappointed to hear how boring this made his mate seem. To overcompensate for what he thought was a boring start to the evening, Billy shared some of the crazy stories from his latest posting at sea.
"I wouldn't have thought patrolling the border would be so exciting," His friend said after Billy finished a story about a recent illegal fishing vessel they had boarded.
"Mate, you've got no idea. The shit that we witness out there is wild as," He shook his head to underscore that one would never believe how wild it was.
They both turned their eyes to a waiter approaching them with a plate in each hand. Billy was still starving even after having wolfed down a plate of oysters.
Thank God the food is here. Note to self: don't skip lunch just to leave room for dinner when the restaurant you're at is slow as balls at serving you.
The waiter explained their food to them while Billy smiled blankly at him, waiting for the appropriate moment to tuck in. The waiter turned away and Billy grabbed his fork from the table, pausing in the middle of stabbing his crab when the waiter turned back to their table, "I'm so sorry, I almost forgot. Here is a note from the chef," the waiter pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and set it on the table.
"A note from the chef? About what?" His friend reached for the note, curious.
"Chefo. She said to tell you it's from the chefo," The waiter was too busy to spend time answering questions about this nonsense Chef Brown had added to his plate tonight. He smiled his best customer service smile at them and prayed they wouldn't ask anything else.
"From the chefo!" Billy put down his fork.
"Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?" The waiter smiled and felt his blood pressure rising as he imagined the plates waiting back in the kitchen for him to deliver.
"No, that's great. The food looks great, thanks, mate." The waiter, released from their table, hustled away.
Billy was beyond curious at who in this fancy-ass restaurant would call herself chefo. His friend had read the note and passed it over to Billy, "I think this is for you? I don't think it's for me. Do you know a Bomber?" He started eating but kept his eyes on Billy as he read and re-read the note.
No fucking way! Bomber works here?
Billy finished re-reading the note and pulled his phone from his pocket, immediately adding her number to his contacts. He folded up the note and put it in his pocket alongside his phone.
"I do know her, yeah. Haven't seen her in about ten years, though," he looked over to where the dining room receded into shadows near the kitchen. "I started my career on the ship she was with, the Hammersley. Used to give her crap about her cooking," He smiled at the memory of them ribbing each other through the galley window.
"She's too busy to walk out here and say 'hi'? After ten years? Fuck that noise. Either she wants to see you or she doesn't," His friend said, jabbing his fork in the air for emphasis.
"Nah. Bomber's not like that. She takes her job seriously, whatever it is. If she thinks she's too busy to come over here then better believe that she's too busy. She's probably running this whole damn restaurant by now," Billy explained, finally picking his fork back up and digging into the crab on his plate.
"You should text her. She basically just booty called you via pen and paper. Good thing you're single now, huh?" He winked at Billy, referring to the break-up Billy had just told him about over their appetizers. "What does she mean, you didn't order chips? I don't remember seeing chips on the menu here?"
Billy shrugged and gave a quick laugh, "I guarantee you that chips are not on the menu here, as long as she's got a hand in making the menu," He smiled at the thought of Bomber recognizing him after all this time.
"Is she hot? Please tell me she's hot. Now that I'm engaged I have to live vicariously through you," his friend asked.
Billy nodded slowly, realizing that he had never admitted out loud that he thought Bomber was hot. "Yeah, she's very hot. Or, she was ten years ago, at least. I had the biggest crush on her when we were on the Hammersley together," He confessed.
Is Bomber hot? Is the sun hot? Fucking get out of here with your ridiculous questions, mate.
"Definitely tell her you're free whenever she gets off work. I can entertain myself tonight and we can meet up on the beach tomorrow to surf," His friend had it planned out.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will text her," Billy could barely hear what his friend was saying because his head was buzzing with memories of Bomber.
"Hey, did I ever tell you about these crab fishermen I met on Bright Island once?" Billy asked, through a mouthful of food, hoping to distract himself for a few more hours.
Becca had no doubt that he would text her. Seeing him again had flooded her thoughts with happy memories about their time together. Harrowing and dangerous times, as well, but the two of them always had each other's backs. The kitchen team noticed she was smiling and checking her phone more than usual.
The last seating had left and the front door was locked, the lights had been dimmed and the waitstaff had gone home. Becca felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and took it out immediately to read the message:
Penguin Pizza at midnight? If you're done work by then? If not, another time.
She grinned and did a once-over of the kitchen, gauging how much time she would need before she could leave. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she read:
This is Webb. By the way.
Obviously, it's you. Who else would finish eating at my restaurant and then ask me to meet them at a fucking pizza place mere hours later?
She texted back:
No kidding, it's you. See you there at midnight.
She put her phone back into her pocket and threw herself into the night's closing tasks with fervor.
Billy found a standing spot at the bar of Penguin Pizza. He was about thirty minutes early and decided he had time to eat before Bomber arrived. He ordered a slice and checked out the substantial and impressive beer list. He was still dressed up in the outfit he had worn earlier: black jeans and a burgundy button down. He rolled up his sleeves and caught the bartender's attention to order a beer.
Is Bomber still hot? No doubt she is. I can't believe I never tried to find her on social media.
Billy took out his phone and started trying to find Bomber on social media. The only success he had was a public account on Instagram for a Chef Brown where all the images were of plated food. He wasn't sure it was actually her. He typed her name into a search engine and scrolled through possible hits as he ate his pizza.
Time passed quickly and he was ready to order a second beer when he felt someone standing next to him. He put down his phone and turned to see that it was Bomber.
She had changed out of the black chef's uniform she wore at work and into a pair of dark blue jeans and an olive green singlet.
"Spider! I knew it was you! You were shoving food into your mouth exactly like you were in the mess again!" She smacked his arm, grinning up at him.
"Bomber!" He smiled back at her and gave her a massive hug, "Where have you been?!"
"Where have I been? Where have you been? And what are we drinking tonight?" She spied his empty glass.
"I've been the same place you left me-patrol boats," He passed her the beer list.
"Excuse me, but you left me. Just to clarify," She pointed her finger at him accusingly.
"Fair enough. I heard you left the Navy but I never got the details. How long have you been out?" Spider asked, "Long enough to become a chef, I suppose?"
"It's been about ten years, now. And you wouldn't have heard the details because I kept them under tight wraps," She caught the bartender's eye and ordered a beer.
Spider held up two fingers at the guy, "I'll have what she's having." Then he leaned closer to her and muttered, "What am I having?"
"Saison. You'll like it," They settled in next to each other, standing facing each other and leaning a bit on the bar.
Spider had always been cute but this man in front of her was on another level. His shoulders were broader, he seemed somehow taller, he had defined cheekbones and a chiseled jaw and even the signs of aging-the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the lines between his eyes from squinting at a dazzling sea for over a decade-didn't detract from his good looks.
"Last I heard you were with the Melbourne?" She asked.
"Fuck, that was at least seven or eight years ago," He thought back to everything that had happened that he wanted to tell her. He listed off the significant moments, "The Melbourne, then I went over to the dark side-big ships-for a few years, then ironically I was on the Kingston for a while, now I'm on the Cape St George out of Darwin," he finished.
"Impressive," Bomber nodded in an exaggerated way, "You the CO yet?"
He laughed, "Not yet. You're looking at a chief petty officer, though. I'm the buffer, now."
"My God, don't tell Buffer that you've replaced him. I can only imagine how hard his eyes would roll back in his head!" They both laughed imagining how Buffer would react to the news that Spider had followed in his footsteps.
"I used to give him a hard time, but he's a big reason I decided to stay in the Navy and pursue the path I'm on," Spider explained. They paused their conversation to accept their drinks from the bartender. Spider tasted it trepidatiously, "Well, it's...certainly interesting." He took another sip, "Not bad, actually."
"I said you'd like it. I know what you like, remember? I used to feed you and listen to you complain about food constantly," She reminded him.
He chuckled, "Sorry I used to give you such a hard time. I was a little shit back then."
"No kidding," She bumped his shoulder playfully, "Now you're a big shit."
"Hey! I am way more mature and worldly than when you knew me," He protested. "Evidence: I'm drinking a-" He fished around his brain for the name of the beer he was drinking, "-saison. It's a very fancy beer because I am now a very fancy man. You should have seen the fancy restaurant I was eating at earlier. Best chefo on the Gold Coast," He bumped her shoulder back.
"Best under-chef, you mean," Bomber explained her role at the restaurant. "I run things when the chef is away and basically I do all the actual work while he does all the theoretical work. A few more years and I can try to branch out on my own...either open my own restaurant or find a place that needs a head chef to take over."
"Good for you! You've done really well for yourself!" Spider congratulated her.
"Thanks, Spider. It took a minute to find my feet once I left the Navy but cooking has always been my passion."
Spider leaned closer to her, "Should I call you Chef Brown? Instead of Bomber? Is it weird to be calling you Bomber?"
"Is it weird to be calling you Spider?" She shot back at him.
"Yeah, everyone just calls me 'your lordship' now. I can't believe no one told you about it," He joked.
She laughed despite herself, "So you're still completely ridiculous." She shook her head at him and added, "I'm glad you haven't changed."
He grinned at her. "So what were the mysterious circumstances you left the Navy under? Too soon to ask?"
"It happened at least a decade ago so I guess I can tell you," She was so happy to be bantering with her old friend again but was suddenly nervous to share this secret with him. It didn't paint her in the best light. "Remember 2 Dads?"
"Sure! Kostov-Myer, the ultimate prankster."
"Yeah. Him. Well, I left the ship because of him. I mean, I was leaving the ship anyway, probably. I hadn't decided yet."
"What did 2 Dads do? I can't believe I hadn't heard about this before. Is this a prank gone wrong story that the Navy covered up?" Spider was getting worked up about a perceived injustice that 2 Dads had perpetrated against Bomber.
"No, no. It was more of a case of...fraternization," She looked up at the ceiling as she said it, wincing at the bad decisions she had made in her youth.
"Fraternization…?" Spider sat with the word for a minute until it sank in, "You fucked 2 Dads?!" He shouted it way too loudly.
"Just tell the whole fucking bar why don't you?" Bomber grimaced and looked around and smiled at the few people who had turned to look at them.
"Oh my God, this is priceless. How did I not hear about this? Wait, wait. Was I still on board? I wasn't still on Hammersley when this happened or you would've told me," Spider was finding this hilarious.
"It just happened. He was always hanging around in the galley. He was cute and funny. He was just there. I couldn't get clear of him. And I was always surrounded by men," She trailed off, finally meeting his eye.
"Wow," Spider was speechless. He was also jealous. "I was always hanging around in the galley, too," He tried to make it a joke but the tone of his voice was wrong.
"So were Charge and Swaino and literally everyone else. Look, do I regret it? A little. It fucked up my life for a while to have to figure out so quickly what I should do after the Navy. I am truly glad it didn't fuck up 2 Dads career, though. For such a fucking player, he was ready to show restraint. More than I can say for myself at that age," She sighed. "It's just embarrassing to think back on. Like, was I really that girl who had to quit the Navy because I couldn't keep my fucking pants on for a few weeks at a time while on board?" It was a rhetorical question and Spider awkwardly stared at the surface of the bar. "I'm thankful I ended up finding myself and now have this amazing career but...I was that girl," Bomber sighed again. "I just wanted someone to like me."
Spider looked at her and gave a small smile. "I liked you," He offered.
"I know," Bomber put her hand on his forearm, "I liked you, too."
What am I doing right now?
"No, Bomber, I mean I liked you," He nervously cleared his throat when he saw she didn't react. He backpedaled and tried to make it a joke, "Nothing like getting a ten year old crush off your chest, huh?" He chuckled.
Mayday mayday mayday!
Bomber had a small gold chain necklace that rested against her tan collarbone and it kept catching the light from the TV above the bar. Spider had already had to jerk his eyes up from her cleavage at least a dozen times and did so again now, with her warm hand resting on his arm and her body pressed in close against his as the bar filled up with people who pushed around them, trying to get their own spots at the bar.
She finally laughed with him and took her hand off his arm. "I had a crush on you, too! I thought you only wanted to be friends." Spider told himself to calm down, this was them having a crush on each other 10 years ago, they barely knew each other any more.
"I wanted to be way more than friends! I remember Buffer used to accuse me of eye-fucking you from across the mess. But could you blame me? I was stuck on a ship with a bunch of guys and you," Spider held up his hands in a helpless gesture, "what was I supposed to do? Be a monk?"
"I wasn't the only woman on board!" She protested.
"What-Nav? THE XO?" He listed off the other women who served with them incredulously.
Bomber laughed, "Ok, yes, fine. I was clearly the hottest one and the funniest one and the best cook of them all. And how could you not be totally smitten with the version of me from 10 years ago?"
"10 years ago? How about the version of you right now? Still the hottest and the funniest and the best cook!" He was emphatic. Then he was instantly embarrassed and felt a blush creep up his face.
"Still the hottest? Have you seen the X lately?" Bomber tried to save this increasingly awkward conversation with a joke.
"Ah, no, I guess I haven't seen her. She's in Cairns still?" He awkwardly finished his beer and motioned to the bartender for two more.
"I have no idea, actually. I hope she didn't let Mike Flynn derail her career," Bomber mused.
"Why would the CO derail her career?" Spider asked.
"You were so fucking clueless back then," Bomber stared at him, "The entire crew knew that they were in love."
"No! Really? Are you kidding? I can't tell if you're kidding," Spider relaxed again. He reminded himself that he was no longer a dumbass twenty-one year old who didn't know how to talk to women.
"I am not fucking around. The XO was 100% obsessed with the Captain. He refused to take a shore posting but one of them would need to leave for them to work as a couple," Bomber added, "I haven't heard much more because I fell out of touch with Jess, who was my source of Navy gossip once I left."
"The secret lives of Officers," Spider mused aloud. Out of the back of the bar came the sound of the jukebox, quiet until the recent crowd of people had arrived.
Bomber let out a laugh, "Do you remember Charge trying to dance to this song?"
Spider remembered exactly the moment she was talking about and laughed with her, "Yes! We were on that island after the storm and there was one bar open and somehow they had gotten their generator running but all the drinks had gone warm during the time the refrigerators were out and we showed up-"
Bomber jumped in to tell the story with him, "-absolutely disgusting from helping with storm cleanup. And we drank the warmest drinks ever because the XO took pity on us and let us have a few hours off. And someone played this song and Charge just got up and started trying to dance-"
Spider interrupted "-but Charge cannot dance and we all basically fell on the floor laughing and he was so insulted," Both of them were laughing now and Bomber fell forward over the bar, weak with the hilarity of the memory.
The bartender shoved their beers across the bar at them and glared at them. Spider saw the glare and it made him laugh more: was the guy mad that they were being noisy? That they weren't spending more money? That they were having a laugh when he had to be at work?
He leaned against Bomber as he slid her beer in front of her. She wiped a few tears of laughter out of her eyes, and held up her glass, clinking it against Spiders with a brief, "cheers."
They calmed down from their fit of laughter as they sipped their beer.
"Listen, Spider. I want you to know, I didn't choose 2 Dads over you. It wasn't like that. I didn't let myself think of you like that because I knew how serious you were about the Navy as a career and I didn't want to let myself be a temptation to you," She looked over at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
"Thanks, I guess? Except it didn't really work because you were still a temptation to me," He smiled shyly at her and she watched the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle up. He was the same boy she had kept in her memories all these years but he was more solid now. His torso was wider, his biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt, and she noticed a hint of chest hair where his shirt collar was unbuttoned.
Spider grew up hot. I should track down Nav and tell her about this.
She was momentarily speechless and couldn't help but smile as she took a sip of her beer.
He copied her movement and took a sip of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Bomber noticed how fit his forearms were and couldn't help asking, "You work out now or something?"
"Ha!" Spider let out a quick laugh, "Yeah. I do. Can't have a weak ass buffer," He joked. "Why? Do you work out? Want some tips for lifting heavier?" He teased, gently squeezing her bicep.
She flexed her small arm and laughed. "I do some kickboxing classes but my job has me running around all day. I'm so tired by the end of a shift I can't even think about doing more cardio."
"You've got a bit of muscle, though. Not bad for someone who doesn't lift," He didn't give two flying fucks if she worked out or not. She could outweigh a ute and he'd still be into her.
Bomber rolled her eyes at him. "nOt BaD foR SoMeoNE wHO doEsN't LiFt," she parroted back at him.
Spider laughed, "I'm realizing how much I missed you giving me a hard time. Why did it take us this long to reconnect?"
"Aww, thanks, Spider. I forgot how much I love to give you a hard time. And we haven't seen each other in forever because you were too busy climbing the ranks," She grinned up at him mischievously.
"You've been pretty busy climbing the ranks, yourself. Second in command of the poshest restaurant ever!" They were duly impressed with each other.
Suddenly, two assholes shoved against them from behind, bumping into them, trying to steal their spot at the bar to order drinks. Bomber was ready to let them. Working in a professional kitchen for years had helped her chill out since her time in the Navy. She still had a quick temper but by the end of a work day she was ready to leave the competition, yelling, and aggression behind.
Spider straightened up to his full height and put his shoulders back, appearing somehow even taller and broader than he had a moment ago. In one swift movement he had shifted his position so that Bomber was now behind him. She put her hands on his back, trying to stay close to him but not wanting to get involved in any altercation.
Is he starting shit? Is Spider going to clock this guy?
Spider smiled at the guys, who were obviously pissed, and held out his hands, palms up, to diffuse the situation. "We're all having a great night, right?" He asked the guy. The guy squinted at him and his friend swayed a little on his feet. Spider listed off the things that made this a great night to them: "You guys are having a night on the town. This place has fucking amazing pizza. I'm here with my long-lost friend," He jerked his thumb behind him where Bomber poked her head from around him and made a small wave at the drunk guys, her other hand nervously bunching up the fabric of Spider's shirt. "Mates, this is a great place to have a drink. Here," Spider motioned to a gap in the crowd to his right, "Come right over here, there's room for both of you," He steered the drunk guys away from him.
One of the guys leered back at Bomber, "Your missus is a-" Bomber couldn't hear him as he turned around and was lost in the noise of the crowd.
"What did he call me?! Did he just insult me?" She was annoyed with herself for feeling angry. She rarely allowed her temper to get the better of her these days. The threat of a physical fight had made her nervous but some asshole shooting off his mouth made her want to jump into the fray. She let go of Spider's shirt and stepped in front of him, following the guy who had insulted her.
"Whoa! Hold up! He didn't insult you," Spider quickly caught her before she had even moved past him and pulled her back toward him, holding her back against his chest with his arms wrapped around her.
"How do you know he didn't insult me? I saw his face! It was the face of a guy who wants to be kicked in the balls," She argued.
Spider laughed and Bomber felt it rumble in his chest. "Bomber, he's not worth it. He wasn't insulting you. He was calling you...cute," Spider explained.
"Cute? Yeah, as if." She wasn't an idiot.
I haven't been cute since I was 19. Hot, maybe, but not cute.
"Yeah, he thinks you're cute," Spider felt her relax so he loosened his arms around her, "I think you're pretty cute, too. Even when you're trying to start a fight that I'd have to finish."
God, even his voice is hot. And when did he become so responsible?
Bomber turned around and looked at him, deciding whether to comment on his obvious attempt at flirting. He left his hands loosely resting on her hips. "Spider," She began to tell him not to act crazy, they were adults now.
That's right. We're adults now. He'll be back on a ship in a few days. Seize the moment, Becca.
"Spider, I'm not cute," She took a deep breath and went for it, "I'm fucking hot." She watched his eyes widen and then she stepped past him back to their spot at the bar. She bit her lower lip and grinned as she felt him lean in next to her. She caught the bartenders eye and motioned for two more beers. She glanced over at Spider, close enough that she could smell the spice of his aftershave. He saw her looking at him and a smile spread across his face but he didn't comment.
"I keep remembering how I always had to talk you down and keep you calm. And now you're out here, stopping fights before they start, holding me back, and you're not even a little thrown off by any of it," She told him.
"Impressed, aren't you?" He asked, "I told you, I moved up in the ranks, I've got skills now." He took a long drink from his beer.
She grinned and reached for her beer. They were flirting the way they had always wanted to and this time there were no regulations standing in their way.
Spider noticed the bracelet on her wrist and reached out to where her hand rested on the bar. He read the nameplate on the thin gold chain:
Rebecca
"Your bracelet...is that the same one your Mom gave you for your birthday?" He leaned a little closer to her in order to make sure he had read it correctly.
"It is. I can't believe you remember it!" Bomber let him examine it, his rough hands warm against her wrist.
"Oh, c'mon, this was the reason we almost died. Well, one of many reasons we almost died," He alluded to the time they narrowly escaped being lost at sea and murdered by a drug dealer. "How did things work out with your mom? You were trying to patch things up with her?" He vaguely remembered Bomber agonizing over the wording of an email to send back home.
"We're ok. She got remarried. It mellowed her out some. She gives me a hard time about being single but whatever," Bomber shrugged.
She's single? She's single.
Spider nodded, "I'm glad you were able to reconnect with her."
"How's your mom?" Bomber knew how important his parents and his family had been to Spider.
"She's good. Threw me a huge party when I got my last promotion, which was a bit embarrassing but she means well," Spider absently wrapped his fingers around the circumference of Bomber's wrist and looked up at her, "You've got small wrists."
"Go on. My wrists are normal. You just have freakishly large hands," She shot back.
He released her wrist and laughed.
The person sitting on the stool on his other side suddenly vacated their seat and without thinking, Spider pulled it closer to himself and sat down, suddenly close to eye level with Bomber. She sipped her beer and looked at him over the rim of the glass.
Now or never, Billy. Make your move.
He reached out for her free hand and slowly pulled her in closer to him. She was standing between his long legs and she didn't seem to hate it.
"Hey," Spider swallowed back his nerves, "you're single?" Bomber nodded, no smartass retort for once. "Me too," he said. "Sort of feels like fate, doesn't it? That I picked your restaurant to eat at and that you happened to see me. That we're both single now. That we don't have a CO breathing down our necks about spending too much time together."
Bomber couldn't resist taking the piss, "It's not fate, Spider, it's because I have excellent eyesight. I could spot you and your horrible table manners from a hundred meters away."
Spider chuckled and shook his head. He had missed her so much.
She slid her glass onto the bar and draped her arms over his shoulders, a small lopsided grin on her face. Spider moved his hands to her waist and pulled her even closer. The room seemed to shrink and Spider forgot about the drunk guys he had warned off and the grumpy bartender and the bad music on the jukebox.
"Bomber," Spider gazed into her eyes, "I've wanted to do this for so long."
She moved closer to him and rested her forehead against his, "Then do it," She murmured. So he did. He kissed her long and slow, the way he had dreamed about for so many years.
She pulled away first, smiling and slightly flushed.
"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" He tried to ask it casually.
"Not until the afternoon. The prep doesn't need much supervision: we've got a good kitchen crew. You're just worried about me getting home in time to get enough sleep before going to work, right?" She asked, voice tinged with sarcasm.
"Oh, definitely. I didn't want to invite you back to my hotel or anything. Just sincerely concerned about you being out on a school night," Spider grinned at her and stood up. Bomber moved closer to him and tucked herself against his side. He wrapped one of his long arms around her shoulders and steered them through the crowd towards the exit.
They spilled out into the warm night. The scent of the sea was on the breeze. Spider kept his arm around Bomber and she wrapped her arm around his waist. Now that they were finally acting on their feelings for each other they didn't want to stop.
"My place?" He whispered against her hair.
"Your place," She confirmed. "It better be a super fancy hotel," She quipped.
"It's mid-range. Decent mini-bar, though," Spider bantered. He found them an empty taxi and held the door open for Bomber.
He gave the driver the address to his hotel and pulled out his phone, "I just need to text my mate and let him know I might not make it for surfing at dawn." He finished sending the text and took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.
"I'd say you definitely won't be available at dawn…or at any time before mid-afternoon," Bomber grinned at him.
He returned her grin, "Is that a promise?"