Chapter 8
It's been a few weeks since Rick's seen her. They've been talking, though. The morning after he spent the evening on her couch, watching some crappy TV show she seemed to enjoy, she texted him. The text was just two words, but it was enough to make him smile. Thank you. He replied by sending her a picture of a baby penguin that looks like it was about to hug her with the words you're welcome attached.
They've been texting and calling ever since. Sending each other silly pictures and talking about nonsensical things. He's also been trying to get her to take a day off, but her schedule has been so crazy that today is her first day off in weeks. She asked him to meet her at a coffee shop he's never heard of, but it's easy enough to find. It's one of those places where the walls are filled with books you can read while you drink your coffee. He can't believe he's never heard of it.
He walks into the coffee shop and spots her right away. She's curled up on one of the fauteuils in the corner, reading… no way. There's no way that she reading that. He smiles to himself and stores the fact away for later.
Right now, he should get her a cup of coffee. He stands in line and orders her a cup of coffee before joining her in her corner. "I didn't think a girl like you would read chick-lit," he says as he plants her cup on the table in between them.
She looks up, eyes glittering. "No? What kind of books would a girl like me read, Rick?" she asks, challenging him.
"I don't know, something more intelligent?" he says.
"Oh, so now I'm dumb? Or did you think I'd wait for you here whilst reading one of your books?" she mocks.
He looks at her, trying to figure out which answer would get him into trouble the least.
"Well, I like it, so don't judge," she eventually mutters as she puts the book aside. "Thanks for the coffee, by the way."
"Sure," he smiles. "How long have you been here?" He motions towards the mug that already sits on the table.
"A while," she says, "my apartment was too quiet, so I figured I might just as well read something light here."
He nods. "That still bothers you?" he asks quietly. She clenches her jaw. She doesn't like to talk about it, so he hardly ever asks about her PTSD. But now, she gave him a reason to ask about it so he took the chance.
She looks down, starts to trace the letters of the title of her book with her long fingers. "Sometimes," she eventually says. "It's okay, most of the time. When I come home from work, I don't mind the quiet. But this morning… I came home from my run and it was too much. So I came here."
She doesn't look at him when she tells him this. He wonders if it makes it easier for her to talk about it when she's not looking at him. Maybe she pretends that he's not there and that she says the words to an empty space.
"I'm seeing a therapist," she mutters when he stays silent. He smiles at her.
"That's good. Does it help?"
"I don't know," she finally looks up from her hand. Her eyes are wide, like she almost said something she doesn't want to say. She looks vulnerable. He didn't mean to make today about her problems. He just wanted to see her. See for himself how she's doing. And he's jumped into heavy conversation headfirst. "Some days it feels like it does. Some days it feels like it doesn't."
"Can I help?" he asks carefully. "Somehow?"
She shakes her head. Eyes back on the book. "It takes time. I just hope that the good days will be more frequent than the bad ones."
"You know you can call me, right? Good day or bad," he says.
She smiles up at him. "Thanks," she whispers. It's so quiet he almost doesn't hear it, but it's there. He nods and they're quiet for a moment. He struggles to come up with something that's less serious. It's different than he imagined, talking to her face to face again. He thought it would be as easy as texting or talking over the phone. But being able to see her, see her reactions, the way she sometimes struggles with an answer – it's harder. The easy banter they had going over the phone is hard to find.
He realizes that they've been quiet for too long and asks the first question coming to mind, "So, what's your book about?"
She chuckles. "A friend recommended it to me. Said it was an easy read. It's cute, silly and light."
"You're deflecting," he points out and she grins at him. It seems like she almost sticks her tongue out, but refrains the last second.
"It's about a girl, Sophie, who works in a teashop in a small town in England. Then this famous actor, Billy, comes into town because they're shooting a movie there, or close by. He starts visiting the teashop every morning to learn his lines and they hit it off. They start seeing each other and after he's wrapped his film, she moves in with him in London. But she's very shy and closed off and all of a sudden she's in the big city and the girlfriend of the big heartthrob of the moment, so ensue drama. That's where I am now, so you'll have to wait for the rest of the story until I'm finished."
He stares at her, surprised at the way she told him about the book. He expected a short sentence, but he basically got a rundown of the first half of the book.
"What?" she asks when she catches him staring. A blush is already creeping up her cheeks. She's being cute.
"Nothing," he says quickly. "You just surprised me."
"What? With my amazing summary?" she scoffs. "I'm not going to tell you how it ends by the way."
"But… but you just said I'll have to wait for the rest of the story until you're finished!" he splutters.
"Yeah, well. I've changed my mind," she grins. "You can borrow the book when I've finished it."
He huffs. He might borrow it, just to see what kind of books she likes to read, but he'll have to make sure that Alexis and his mother will never ever catch him reading it. He can already hear them making fun of him.
"You know," she says, "the story line kind of reminds me of us. I mean, not the whole boyfriend, girlfriend, moving in with each other part, of course…" He feels a pang in his heart. She doesn't see him as a possible boyfriend. He hasn't realized how much he's already put his heart into this relationship until she shoots down the idea. Of course, they hadn't talked about it, but it seemed obvious to him that that was where they were heading. Now, he's suddenly not so sure anymore.
He realizes that she's still talking. "But I'm this closed off person and you're kind of famous, so yeah, it reminds me of us. Hey, you okay?" she suddenly asks. "You zoned out for a second there."
"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine," he mutters. Her eyebrows furrow for a second, which tells him that she doesn't believe him, but she lets it go.
He searches his mind for something to say and get her attention off of him. "I – uh – Sounds like an interesting book," he mutters.
"Yeah, like I said… it's light and cute. Kind of just what I need right now," she says, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Seriously, what's wrong? I won't have this awkward conversation with you about a book you don't care about. So tell me what's wrong and we can move on."
"Nothing is wrong," he says, not willing let her know how much her throwaway comment hurt him. But he'll have to step up his game and get it out of his head so it won't be an awkward conversation. "And I do care about your book. If you want me to read it, I will. I won't say I'll like it, though." He winces for show.
She smacks his leg with the book. "It's not that bad. Don't judge what you don't know."
"Fine," he grumbles. "Just don't force me into reading it. It's looks very girly."
She looks down in an idle attempt to hide her blush.
"Did you just say kind of famous?" he asks suddenly as the conversation comes back to him. She looks up with a little frown that's drawing her eyebrows together. "I think I deserve a bit more credit than that, right?"
"Seriously?" she says and looks at him like he's gone crazy. "Have you ever set a foot outside of your circle of groupies?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" he says, but it comes out a bit harsher than he meant it to be.
"Well, that's not stepping very far outside of that circle," she says without thinking.
"Wait, what? You're calling yourself a groupie?"
Her face turns beet red. "No, of course not!"
"I think you just did," he grins. "Who'd have known? Kate Beckett is a fan." He sends her a smug smile. Acts like everything is okay. Acts like he's amused by her offhandedly admitting to liking his books by not answering. He ignores the burn he feels in his heart. He's just a friend to her. Maybe not even that, just a one night stand. A one night stand that's still following her around like a puppy.
He doesn't know how much longer he can keep up the façade of acting like nothing's going on and she's already wondering if there's something wrong. Sooner rather than later she'll probably manage to get him to talk with her detective skills.
"I should go," he suddenly says. "I just remembered that I have an appointment with my publisher about my next book." The excuse is weak, but she doesn't say anything about it. Just wishes him good luck and picks up her book again.
On his walk home, his mind wanders. He keeps going over the little time they've spent together. Has he been reading her all wrong? He must have, because he thought that they were on the same page on where their relationship was heading. After that first night together, in his mind, there was no other possible outcome. He had been under the impression that she just needs to recover from her kidnapping, get her head on straight again before jumping into a relationship with him. It makes him feel like an idiot.
He opens the text thread of the last couple of weeks and re-reads the short conversations. Now he knows that she has no feelings for him, he sees that he comes off as very desperate, while she just responds to his messages with a couple of jokes.
Maybe he should just be happy with having someone that extraordinary as a friend and cherish that one amazing night in his memories.
The book Kate is talking about is Billy and Me by Giovanna Fletcher, if you're interested :)
