Chapter 3: Coffee date...
Chapter 3: Coffee date...
...and getting to know each other
If you haven’t read the beginning of this story yet, you’ll find the first couple of chapters here:
Now on to what happens next…
Jas is already in the staffroom when I get there at the end of my shift. Sweeping her long curtain of hair out of the way she shrugs herself into her coat and turns, hearing me enter the room.
“You ready to go ho…?” Her question tails off as she sees what I’m sure is the somewhat dazed look I’ve been wearing all afternoon.
“Meg? What is it?” she asks, “did something happen with a customer?”
As well as being work colleagues, we’re also housemates, and I’m grateful for the friendship that has sustained us both through all the ups and downs of working and living in London in your twenties and thirties. Jas is definitely the mama bear of the two of us.
“Uh…well…sort of…nothing bad…” It’s a truth universally acknowledged that working in retail will bring you up against some of the worst kinds of human behaviour on a pretty regular basis and Jas and I were used to debriefing all our anecdotes.
“I…uh…a guy asked me out for coffee…I’m supposed to meet him in a few minutes…”
“WHAT?!” Jas explodes in shock. Personally, I’m still in the dumbstruck phase.
“Who is he? When did you meet him? Why am I only just finding out about this?!”
Her questions come thick and fast as she tugs me down onto the decidedly sunken sofa where it wasn’t unknown for any number of the team to take a quick power nap on their lunch breaks.
Her grip is firm on my hands and that helps ground me back into more of a sense of reality, at least enough to form answers.
“His name is Leo, this morning before lunch, and I’ve been so busy I didn’t get a chance to come down and find you…”
I give her a summary of my stepladder stumble, my dashing rescuer, and his return later when I helped fix his coat, watching as her smile grows wider and wider and she starts practically bouncing up and down with excitement.
“Eeee Meg! This is so amazing!” she squeals in my ear as she grabs me into a swift hug before holding me at arm’s length and giving me a quick inspection.
“Well, I guess there’s no time for you to change, but that blouse is cute, and you’re definitely having a good hair day,”
Jas is infinitely more stylish than me, and has a great eye so I generally trust her opinion. “Come on then, you don’t want to be late for your big date!”
“Ohmigod Jas! Don’t! I’m already freaking out!” I exclaim, dropping my head in my hands.
“What was I thinking?! I never agree to go out with random men! And especially not customers!” My voice is muffled by my palms, but Jas understands anyway.
“It’s about time you did if you ask me,” she replies, pulling my hands away from my face and offering me an encouraging smile.
I’m not the most sociable of people at the best of times, and dating has been off my radar for far longer than I care to admit. Jas tries to nudge me occasionally, lovingly, though I’m sure she gets frustrated at my scaredy-cat ways sometimes.
“Will you come with me?” I ask, “I mean, not with me with me, but, like, sit at another table and save me if he turns out to be some weird psycho killer or something?”
“In Costa on a Saturday afternoon? Highly unlikely,” she chuckles, “and anyway, you’d never have said yes if you were getting psycho vibes from him, would you?”
“No, I suppose not…” I picture Leo again.
Leo. Such a great name.
His smile, his eyes, his confidence, that strong body that had caught me with no trouble at all…
Something warm settles in my stomach. No, definitely no killer vibes from him.
“But yes, I’ll come with you, but only so you can tell me every single tiny detail on the way home after.” Jas is pulling me up now, passing me my coat and holding my bag as I struggle into it, and propelling me towards the door before I’ve even got my scarf wrapped round my neck.
Costa is only a few doors down from the store, and I know it’s not the nicest place in the world to meet for a date (is it really a date? Or am I overthinking this? Perhaps it’s just a thank you for my help with the coat button), but it is busy and public and well lit, and that felt important when I agreed to meet a stranger after work.
A stranger, maybe, but a very handsome one, the memory of whom is making my insides feel all bubbly as I anticipate seeing him again.
Jas lets go of my arm before we get close to the café.
“I won’t come in with you, that’d be weird, but I won’t be far behind,” she says before planting a quick smacking kiss on my cheek, whispering “have fun!” in my ear and vanishing into the crowd.
Taking a deep breath, I force my feet to keep moving, and then I spot him, waiting by the door. He’s looking around, obviously trying to find me in the throng, and when he sees me, he smiles.
Oh boy.
Reaching him, I come to a halt.
“Hi.”
Apparently I’ve now lost the ability to speak more than a single syllable.
“Hello again” he replies with a smile, mirroring our greeting from earlier.
Neither of us moves for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a second or two as the bustle of Oxford Street sweeps past us.
“Shall we?” he finally asks, catching the door as someone exits and gesturing me inside.
We move to join the queue at the counter, and as we shuffle our way forward, Leo turns to me.
“What will you have?” he asks, eyes flicking to the oversized menu on the wall then back to me. He pulls a smart leather wallet out of his pocket as we move forward another step.
“Oh, uh… Are you sure?” I ask.
If he’s paying that definitely makes it a date, right? Or are we still in gentlemanly gratitude and good manners territory?
“Mm hmm,” he nods, a half-smile quirking his mouth up on one side.
The side with the dimple.
“Erm… a hot chocolate then please. Thank you.” I don’t really drink coffee, especially not at this time of the day.
It’s our turn to order and I take the moment to listen to his rich, smooth voice again. Richer and smoother than any of the drinks on offer here. He’s polite to the barista, a young blonde woman who I can see is slightly flustered in the face of this delicious specimen of manhood.
You and me both love. You and me both.
Drinks in hand, we make our way to a small table that’s just been cleared, and I spy Jas coming in through the door. She flashes me a wink on her way to the counter.
I drape my coat over the back of the chair and watch as Leo does the same.
Well, OK, I watch how his body moves and stretches, the play of muscle under that fine cashmere jumper, and the long, dark navy chino-clad legs as they fold under the table when he sits down. Waiting until I’m sitting until he does so.
Ladies, we have a gentleman.
I take a sip of my hot chocolate for courage, allowing the warmth of the cup to melt my frozen-with-nerves fingers and the perfectly bitter-sweet liquid to ease the tension in my throat.
“So. Meg.” He says, meeting my eyes again across the table. “How was the rest of your day?”
OK. Small talk. I can manage this.
“Good. Thanks.”
I mentally shake myself. Come on, you can be more eloquent than that.
“I mean, busy, but it’s Saturday, so it’s always busy,” I continue with a smile.
“Yeah, I noticed,” he replies with a grimace, clearly remembering his stressful shopping experience from this morning.
“How was yours?” I return the question, before taking another sip of my drink.
“Good, thanks,” he grins, and I get the sense that he might also be nervous about this meeting – date? – too. That reassures me.
“I had to go home to recover for a bit,” he carries on, “get a few hours peace and quiet before braving the hoards again. And drop off that ridiculously huge present.”
He laughs quietly but the vibration reaches my chest and sets butterflies trembling in my stomach again.
“Oh, right,” I chuckle back, “well I hope your niece likes it. It was your niece, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies with a nod and a warm smile. “She’s almost-six going on twenty four, drives my sister crazy, but apparently I’m her favourite, so I’ll take it!”
I try to imagine this big, strong man wrapped around the little finger of a strong-willed young girl, and those butterflies move to my ovaries.
“Anyway,” his voice breaks into my reverie, “I know I said it earlier, but thank you again for sorting out my coat, you’re a lifesaver.”
I blush at the exaggerated praise.
“Honestly, it really was no trouble at all, it was my pleasure to help.”
Oops. Shouldn’t have used that word. Thinking of Leo and pleasure in the same breath sends my imagination in all sorts of intriguing directions and I have to accidentally-on-purpose bang my knee against the table leg to snap myself out of it.
I can’t help the indignant “Ow” that escapes me.
“Oh, are you OK?” he asks, looking like he’s about to leap out of his chair to check.
“Mm, yes, fine,” I answer shortly, rubbing at my knee to ease the ache but knowing I’ve probably given myself a bruise.
“If you’re sure?” he asks again, concern warming his dark eyes and a slight frown wrinkling his brow.
I just nod, and try to smile reassuringly, before clutching up my cup for another steadying mouthful of hot chocolate.
Except that then I notice how he’s holding his own cup of steaming coffee. Cradled between possibly the most attractive pair of male hands I’ve ever come across.
Long and lean, elegant but strong, neatly trimmed nails, and a faint tracery of veins and tendons visible as he moves to lift the cup to his mouth.
The twinkle in his eyes over the top of the rim tells me he’s seen me looking.
All I can do is stare back, those fluttery butterflies now having a field day.
Clearly taking pity on me, he places the cup carefully back down before speaking again.
“So. Meg.” Repeating his earlier opening. “Is that short for something? Megan, or…?”
Usually it bugs me when people make that mistake, but I don’t have the will to be annoyed at this man.
“Margaret, actually,” I reply, sitting up straighter, “it was my grandmother’s name. She died when I was a teenager, but she shortened it to Meg for me, and I quite like it, it reminds me of her.” The wave of sadness that always washes over me when I think of my grandmother passes quickly this time.
“Margaret. That’s nice. But so is Meg.” He smiles at me again and I have to remember to breathe.
“What about Leo, is that short for anything?” I ask.
He pauses, looking at me as if trying to assess whether he can trust me with some big secret.
“Leopold.” He finally answers, his spine straightening, braced for my response.
“Leopold.” I repeat. “I like it. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Leopold before. I didn’t think they really existed outside of historical romance novels.” I smile, hoping he doesn’t read the laughter in my eyes as ridicule.
“Ha!” he barks out a laugh, throwing his head back in surprise. “You got me. They were my mother’s favourite when she was pregnant with me!”
His smile is wide now, revealing his dimple in all its glory and lighting up his eyes.
“Clearly a woman of excellent taste,” I declare with a decided nod, and a grin for good measure.
I should know. Historical romance novels are some of my favourites, and there have definitely been a couple of memorable Leopolds between their pages.
Only now I’m picturing Leo – the real one in front of me – in a pair of tight breeches, long leather riding boots, and one of those billowing white shirts, striding across a dramatic landscape and sweeping his raven hair back with one of those gorgeous hands as he comes to declare his undying passion and love for me.
It’s a good job I’m not an innocent Regency maiden otherwise I’d definitely be fainting right here in my seat.
Who wants more?
Watch this space for another chapter soon!
I imagine he drinks a strong and black Americano ☕️😏