*
‘Hey there!’ Ben stood and pulled her into a firm hug.
‘Hi.’ She felt herself melt a little into his arms. In fact, the moment she’d seen him sitting at the table, her nerves subsided. Everything about Ben seemed to settle her. He was solid and calming, and his face was so kind that she couldn’t help but feel safe in his presence.
‘You’re a white wine drinker, right?’ He pointed to a full glass on the table, ready and waiting for her.
‘I am indeed, thank you.’ She took her coat off and sat down. ‘This place is so cute. I’ve never even heard of it.’ She looked around at the tiny restaurant. It was all dark wood and chequered tablecloths, a piece of traditional Italy in the middle of central London.
‘It’s good, isn’t it? I’m glad you approve.’ He raised his glass in the air. ‘To date two.’
She clinked her glass against his. ‘To date two.’
‘I’m sorry about Sal’s the other night, by the way.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘I honestly had no idea you’d be there. Although, I’m obviously glad that you were.’
Eleanor’s cheeks reddened and she shyly looked away.
‘You’re not very good at taking compliments, are you?’ He chuckled.
‘Not really, no.’ She felt her face grow brighter and hotter.
‘What else should I know about you?’ he asked curiously.
‘Erm … what would you like to know?’
‘Let’s see.’ He took a sip of his beer and stared intensely at her. Eleanor felt the heat travel from her cheeks all the way down to her stomach. ‘What did you want to be when you were younger?’
‘An artist.’ The answer came without a breath of hesitation.
Ben raised his eyebrow in intrigue. ‘Oh, really? So, you paint? Sculpt? Use other people’s trash to make abstract artwork?’
‘I used to paint.’
‘Used to?’
Eleanor dropped her gaze down to the menu in front of her. ‘Yeah. I don’t really have the time any more.’
‘Were you good?’ The questions kept coming and she could sense his curiosity was not easily dampened.
‘I was OK.’
Ben laughed. ‘That means you were good. Do you miss it?’
Eleanor gripped the menu a little tighter, willing the thoughts of her empty spare room filled with vacant canvases and dried-out brushes out of her mind. ‘Sometimes.’
‘Have you ever thought about taking a class? Like joining a community group or something?’
‘Erm, no I haven’t, actually.’
‘I did it with writing last year. Best thing I could have done. It was just for six months at the local university but it was brilliant. When I was a kid, I always dreamed of being a journalist. I’d run around writing articles on everything and anything. My neighbours found me spying on them way too many times, looking for even a whiff of scandal.’
‘What happened?’
‘They told my parents and I was grounded for a week.’
‘No, I meant with your writing.’ She giggled.
‘Oh!’ Ben’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I found alcohol and girls, and then before I knew it, I’d sold my soul to the corporate world of business.’
