On the street, we share a kiss in sight of the ocean on the promenade. The icy wind is cutting, so we don’t linger, but it’s good to confirm there’s a vast sea out there, a black ocean rippling out to forever.
We end up in a popular pub, lucky to snag a table. There’s a set menu here too, but we’re game to go along with it. It’s one less thing to make a decision about. All that really matters is spending time with Ben. We dine and drink, enjoying the night out.
“You know, for a man with a dating ban, you’re doing quite well tonight on our first date,” says Ben over his pint. His grin is as vast as a forever ocean too.
“Well…” I falter. “I suppose you’re addictive. In my blood, now. Not sure what you did to me, exactly.”
“Just bought your train ticket out here.”
“So you could have your filthy way with me.”
“Naturally. Why wouldn’t I do that?”
We laugh and clink pints. It’s always so easy, trading quips with Ben, like we were born to it.
“To the man who challenged the ban and won.” I raise my glass to him, and we drink again.
“I love stories where the underdog triumphs.” Ben leans on his arm against the edge of the table, pint in hand. He’s making no secret about taking me in, and I blush under the heat of his scrutiny, even after our indulgent urgency back at the hotel.
“Fair. Those are stories to cheer for,” I confirm. “I know this as a literature student. But I think those kinds of stories are universal.”
“And Charlie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so glad you didn’t leave me hanging out alone on the platform at Gatwick,” he says lightly. “But seriously, you’re an incredible man and I’d like to get to know you more. If you’ll consider another date.”
“I just might. Though you’ve set a high bar now. I’m gonna be demanding.”
“Ach. It’s all downhill from here, I’m afraid. Only shit dates. I’m out of ideas.” Ben’s deadpan. He sips his drink. “You better lower your standards immediately.”
I laugh, chin in hand as I gaze at him. God. This man. Is this what swooning is like? Is this what happened to the Victorians, falling into serious like to the point they needed chaise longues everywhere and smelling salts and a pair of strong arms to catch them when they fell? Because fuck if I’m not falling for this man. It’s a stunning realization. I don’t know how that can be, but something in my gut knows it’s true.
“I’ll take it. I’m desperate,” I say. “It’s my turn, though, to say cheers. For the fab surprise and the getaway. And I’ve wanted to say a big thanks for loaning me your van and basically saving Christmas from total disaster. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
Ben shakes his head. “No need, gorgeous. It was an easy thing. The van was just sitting there with everyone gone.”
“It’s…a really nice van. I was a bit scared to drive it at first. I thought musicians were supposed to only have shit vans, held together by duct tape and a prayer.”
He gives a wry smile. “Well, you know. I wanted something reliable for touring. Something that could put up with all weather, and a lot of miles. We put it through its paces around the UK last summer, and we’re off again in a few days for our winter tour.”
For a moment, he’s quiet. Somehow, his mood has shifted, and I’m not sure why.
“Are you all right?” I ask. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s a totally fair point. You’re right that most musicians don’t have vans like that. We’re fortunate that we do. I’m very not posh. Definitely not growing up. The only reason I have anything that I do is because of a settlement for my dad.”
I don’t know quite what to say to that, gazing over my pint.
Ben droops, fidgeting with the ends of the gold scarf still looped around his neck. “He died. Well, eventually, from complications. Wrongful death.” He swallows. “And I need to apologize to you.”
“No—I’m so sorry, Ben. That’s awful. I didn’t realize. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things heavy.”
“How could you know? And…I like remembering my dad. But this time of year is hard.”
I give him a wry smile. “Fair.” I hesitate. “Do you want to tell me about him? If not today, another time?”
He gives a tentative smile. “He was a great dad. Always there for me. He ran a pub, which is where I got my first break in music, learned to pour pints, too. When he was in a serious car accident…it was devastating. He was made a quadriplegic. Mum and I became carers overnight. We did our best, but it wasn’t always easy. He was still my same dad though. I think he tried to make the best of it for us. But we had to sell the pub. Later, there were some…complications with a hospital treatment, and he was gone.” He gulps. “So I’m apologizing to you because I wasn’t completely honest that day we went for a pint at the Crobar after you met me outside, about why I left school. It’s true about the dyslexia. But a big part of it was to look after my dad.”
