“No snowfall would stop me. I ended up walking. Because I needed to see you. To talk. To apologize for being a complete and utter arsehole.”
“I’m always happy to talk to you.” Ben smiles, tilting his head. “No matter what it is, Charlie. You should know that by now.”
“Message received.” I reach out and take his hand. He squeezes my fingers. “I guess we can try talking. Gotta admit that’s not my area of expertise.”
“Let’s go to my house and get out of the cold. And practice talking.” Ben reaches out to adjust my scarf.
“We might need to walk.” I look around us. The street’s virtually deserted. And I haven’t seen any buses go by. “Public transport’s a disaster with all the snow. Believe me.”
“Maybe a taxi tonight, if there’s one to be had.”
I hesitate over the cost, but I don’t want to say anything. We could try to walk to find a stop for the night bus, which is a debacle at the best of times in snow-free conditions, with the drunks and everyone else.
“Where’s your gear?” I ask.
“Billy’s taking our kit tonight in the van. He’s one of my bandmates. And housemates,” Ben says. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the taxi.”
“Oh no…”
“It’s no bother, honestly. I insist.”
Before long, he’s flagged down a taxi, which is some sort of miracle on its own that there was a free one to be found, given the snow. We hold hands in the back. When we arrive at Ben’s house, his street is silent and bright with the freshly fallen snow.
He kisses me impulsively before we go up the steps to the entry. “I’ll admit I was thinking of you all night. Before you sent that text. I needed to talk to you too to figure out what was going on. Even with your strange behavior. I missed you.”
My face warms. I slide my arms around him as he unlocks the door, leaning my head against his shoulder. It’s a comfortable gesture. He puts his arms around me and draws me into another, more leisurely kiss. I’ve missed this too. So much.
“Ben,” I whisper like a promise, despite it all.
“Let’s get inside, it’s freezing out here,” says Ben softly.
“I thought you Scots are used to winter. Unlike us soft Londoners down south.”
“Oh, aye. But I’m becoming a soft Londoner after a couple of years here.”
We laugh, and I’m more at ease again.
Once inside, we take off our coats. I’m thrilled to get out of my soaked boots and socks. My boots are squelching wet.
Beside me, Ben gasps. “Your feet!”
I peer down at them after putting my waterlogged socks on the radiator by the door and my boots on the doormat. My feet are red with cold. They ache.
“They got wet. The bus took too long, and I didn’t want to wait any longer in the cold, so I walked to Camden from the café.”
“Let me put the kettle on. And we’ll sit by the fire for a bit to help you warm up.”
I smile, thinking of various ways he could warm me up as I trail him to the kitchen, curious to see what he’ll do. Being taken care of is an unusual feeling. There’s nothing but demands on my time, things to do for others, schoolwork, rehearsals. Sleep, and the cycle only repeats.
“You’re running the risk of spoiling me if you do that,” I tell him. “What can I do to help?”
Ben waves my comment off. “You’ll let me do something for you, that’s what you can do.”
Weird idea, that. Something I’m not used to, not at all. But something I bet I could grow to like—too much. Way too much.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me close. I bury my face in his shoulder, and the scent of him is already so familiar. Being held like this is also unfamiliar. Imagine having Ben to myself like this. “I should be doing things for you. After what I did. Much more than a mixtape.”
He just laughs. “I’m getting the idea you don’t get much spoiling. I’d like to fix that. You can do things for me another time when you’re not half frozen.”
