And then I feel a bit guilty for having been taken aback at first. I’m absolutely intrigued by Ben and what he likes, and I want to know more about him.
Eleanor smiles, looking appraisingly at me, and I feel my face warming under her scrutiny before she looks at Ben again. “Well, let me know if I can help either of you find anything. Though I suspect you might’ve found something you’ve been looking for already,” she says mildly with a wink before she goes off to help the other customers.
That left my face burning and I dare a glance at Ben. How could someone like him want for anything? In fact, his being single is near impossible. How could that be? And how could I actually be the answer? And who exactly is Eleanor to him, anyway?
Ben must see all the question marks in my eyes—along with my furious blush—and he gives me a quick grin. Between our coats, he takes my hand to squeeze my fingers. “She’s right.”
“Holy shit.”
While my heart thumps to a new rhythm, my head in a daze somewhere with the whirling snowflakes beyond the shop front window, Ben leads me over to a display of yarn. Even I can see the colors are glorious: rich purple and chocolate and crimson. And when I pick up a ball of yarn, it’s impossibly soft.
“I met Eleanor last year when I first came to London.”
“Oh?” Curious, I glance up at him from the cloud of silver wool in my hand. “Is that right?”
“Aye. When I moved here, I didn’t know anyone. I left all of my mates in Edinburgh to come down south and make a serious go with my music.”
Jesus, Charlie. You really don’t know much about this fabulous guy.I have so many questions.
“That’s seriously brave, man. I don’t know if I could have done that,” I confess. My entire life’s been in North London. Technically, Edinburgh isn’t that far away, but Scotland is another country and about five or six hours on the train.
“For that first week, I’d thought I’d made a terrible mistake.” Ben shakes his blond head. “No band, no job. Just some savings and an idea. I’ll admit I was feeling a bit sorry for myself at first. I was so lonely. Early on, I would walk the streets of my neighborhood, getting to know the place, giving me something to do. And I happened to read a notice in a coffee shop like yours for knitting lessons. And I figured, why the hell not? So I came here and signed up, and Eleanor taught me the basics. Ever since, I’ve come to the weekly knit night. She’s like having another mum.”
I grin at him. “Aww, bless.”
“So I’ve learned to make things like this.” Ben takes the wool hat off his head and hands it over. It’s damp from melting snowflakes on top of the knitted ones, the motifs in sage green and sky and midnight blue.
“You made this?” I ask, incredulous. Now, I don’t know the first thing about knitting, but it looks damn complicated, with the needles and the yarn and everything. “It looks like something you’d get in a store. Except far nicer than H&M or Uniqlo. Shit, is there anything you can’t do?”
Ben laughs with delight. He leans in to give me a teasing kiss, and I melt like those damn snowflakes, his hat crushed between us. “Oh plenty, believe me.”
We spend a moment in a space that’s all our own. No wool shop, no other customers, no London. In a world of our own making: population two. We gaze at each other. God, I can’t wait to learn more about Ben.
“Would you make me something?” I ask at last, when I have gathered some of my senses back.
“Ach, no. You see, there’s a curse.”
“What? What curse? Is this another Scottish thing you haven’t told me about?” I tease.
“It’s a knitting thing. If you’re dating someone and you make something for them, you’re bound to break up after. And—well, I don’t want that to happen,” Ben confesses sheepishly. “Because I really do like you.”
“Ah, you numpty,” I murmur and kiss him again. Never mind Eleanor and anyone else watching us in here. I’m thrilled he wants to keep us safe from a knitting curse.
“I’ll teach you, though, if you want,” he offers, eyes dancing.
“You have a far higher estimation of my capabilities than I do, mate.”
“You haven’t even tried knitting yet.”
“So why are we here, then? Aside from showing me your favorite places.”
“I need your help to pick out some colors,” he says immediately, gesturing at the display. Yarn is spread artfully on a white table, cascading from a shelf and baskets, with knitting books and patterns. “I think these bulky yarns. I have a project in mind.”
“What are you making?”
“Can’t say yet. It’s a surprise.”
“But the curse…” I manage, surprised after what he told me a moment ago. “Is it for you?”
