I let out a quiet laugh, mostly at how determined he seems to fill every silence.
He grins, clearly pleased. “There it is! A smile. Knew I’d get one eventually.”
I glance down, focusing on adjusting my gloves even though they don’t need adjusting. “You’re very confident.”
“Occupational hazard,” he chuckles. “I’m a banker. We’re trained to sound sure of ourselves, even when we’re not.”
I nod politely, unsure what to say to that.
He looks at me for a moment, then smiles. “Tell you what, since you’re new, I could show you around the village later. There’s not much to see, but I know where they keep the good coffee.”
“Oh,” I say, caught completely off guard. “That’s… kind.”
My mind scrambles for the next line, something polite but firm, something that doesn’t sound likeplease don’t make me talk for an entire afternoon.
Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe this is just small-town friendliness.Not every man offering to show you around is flirting, Eve. Some people are simply nice.Still, the thought makes my stomach tighten.
It’s been so long since anyone’s even tried to flirt with me that I’m not sure I’d recognise it if they did.Was this flirting?A man being pleasant about coffee shouldn’t make my pulse do odd things.
I could say I already have plans, but that would be a lie. I could say I prefer exploring alone, but that would sound strange. I could also just say yes, but then I’d actually have to do it, and the idea of spending an hour beinginterestingenough to justify the invitation feels exhausting.
Peter doesn’t seem to notice the silent chaos in my head. He smiles again, undeterred. “It’s nothing fancy, just awalk round the village. Coffee, maybe a slice of cake if we feel wild. What do you say?”
I open my mouth, still fumbling for a polite escape, when a voice behind me says, “Sorry I’m late.”
Peter and I both turn.
The man standing there looks unbothered, despite the rain clinging to his jacket. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of steady presence that makes people stop talking.
For a moment, I’m too startled to speak.
He steps closer, giving Peter a polite nod before turning to me. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” he says, then looks back to Peter, “My name is Aaron, nice to meet you. I’m her partner.”
The word lands between us like a pebble dropped in a still pond. Partner. Notboyfriend, notcolleague, not anything clear enough to challenge. Just… partner.
Peter blinks. “Oh. Right. Peter,” he introduces himself, “I didn’t realise you were—” He gestures vaguely, unsure what shape his sentence should take.
Aaron smiles, the kind that gives nothing away. “Easy mistake.”
Something in his tone is light but firm, and for a second Peter looks almost apologetic, though he recovers quickly. “Well, good to meet you, mate. Brave of you both to come out in this weather.”
“Couldn’t miss it,” Aaron says.
Peter laughs, though there’s a flicker of awkwardness in it now. “Right, well… I’ll see you both up ahead then.”
As he walks off to join the others, I turn to Aaron, still trying to process what just happened. “What was that for?” I ask, my voice half surprise, half disbelief.
He glances at me, rain dripping from his hood. “You looked all tense and tight, like you wanted to run from the conversation but couldn’t find a polite escape route. Thought I’d give you one.” He hesitates. “Unless I read that wrong.”
I blink at him. “No… thank you.”
The words come out softer than I intend, carried away by the rain.
He nods once, as if that’s all the answer he needs, and turns his gaze back toward the rest of the group. But I’m still standing there, trying to catch up with the moment.
I can’t remember the last time anyone noticed my discomfort. Not properly. Most people either miss it entirely or assume quiet means content. They talk louder, fill the gaps, never realising I’m quietly edging backwards, already halfway out of the conversation in my head.
It’s strange, being seen like that. Disarming. Almost intimate.
