#and ben is just this absolute rascal i can’t quit

[wildsaltair]

ALL RIGHT enough fun and games. it’s time for some Ben Wade insanity

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter three

Chapter three - excerpt : No. Not butterflies. Never butterflies. Fireflies! It would seem the little leftover rascal had found a friend. Two little beetles together, having fun and carefully shedding some light on her forlorn heart. Their fluttering however barely noticeable - still, there they were. And they did manage to somehow manifest themselves more clearly when Charlotte finally set foot in the lobby at the established hour. 'Nasty little buggers'.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: Not beta’d. And thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think...

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Chapter three

London - Day twelve

Oh, curse those nervous jitters… Charlotte looked up from the desk and scanned the spectators in the conference room. They lied about those bright lights, she thought, they don’t completely black out the audience. Damn it.

She exhaled quietly and took a drink from her glass of water while the power point-presentation was started up for her. She could do this. There was no doubt. She repeated it in her mind like a mantra. Her mind would surely come around soon, however her stomach was in knots.

God, I have to find a way around this soon. Very soon. Close your eyes Charlie, take a deep breath.

Charlotte would hear the spectators shuffling in their seats, the subtle buzz of people talking and flipping through their syllabi while they waited…. It was always the same story. That same petrifying and paralysing stage fright that kept on haunting her, wherever she would go. The absolute horror of getting that first sentence out there… but then, once she was past that, she would be on a roll. She knèw it. If only she could get at that point easier or faster somehow.

So Charlotte tried reminding herself some of the reassuring words friends and family had spoken to her to break her anxiety. Her brother’s “imagine the crowd in their kinkiest underwear!” never ceased to make her smirk just a little bit. But today, it was Tom’s “you’re passionate about your work. You’ll be fine,” that suddenly echoed through her mind. It brought a slight smile to her face and gave her that much-needed boost of confidence she was looking for.

And on that high, Charlotte confidently launched her theories on medical assistance with end of life decisions from her professional yet controversial point of view. Ready to take on the world. Preferably by storm. The feedback after her presentation was larger than she had expected and made for an interested debate in the auditorium as well as captivating conversations during the ensuing lunch break.

When the colloquium concluded for the day, Charlotte felt both satisfied and exhausted. As she walked back to her hotel room all she really longed for was a hot bath and a good book in that pristine air-conditioned hotel room. She was however surprised at the fact that the hotel manager, while handing her back her room key, informed her a message had been left for her at the front desk.

A wave of worry rippled through her, and a monster like claw clenched itself around anxious heart. She feared at first that some emergency had occurred family-wise, but then surely they would have tried calling her cell phone? They knew she kept the device close to her at all times. Surely, they would have rang,… wouldn’t they?

While she questioned the manager if he was absolutely sure, he spelled her name to which she could only nod affirmatively.

Maybe it was a work-related issue? An urgent case-file perhaps? My god, please not now, she wished. It was as if, after the debate all energy had escaped her body.

She longed for her home, her living room, where she could curl up in her favourite nook of the sofa with a good book and some lounge music playing in the background.

A large yellow manila envelope was handed to her. It weighed light in her hands. It couldn’t hold more than one page, she concluded, so hardly a professional emergency. Her mind worriedly drifted back to her family, the monster claw tightened his grip around her heart. Good news rarely came in tiny packages…

Charlotte opened the envelope in the elevator. She had no patience. It was somewhat of a problem, but on a professional level it was one of her best traits. On the beautiful hotel stationary a message was typed out. Apparently a phone call had come in, requesting her. The message was short and to the point, and with a sigh of relief her lips curved into a smile as her eyes scanned the narrative.

I hope your day went well. You’re very kindly invited to a small gathering of people tonight. It’s Ben’s birthday -  so you can’t really say no. Meet me in the lobby at 6.30 PM. Dress casually; it’s an outside event. Greetings from Tom.

Her unfounded agony quickly made way for butterflies. No. Not butterflies. Never butterflies. Fireflies! It would seem the little leftover rascal had found a friend. Two little beetles together, having fun and carefully shedding some light on her forlorn heart. Their fluttering however barely noticeable - still, there they were. And they did manage to somehow manifest themselves more clearly when Charlotte finally set foot in the lobby at the established hour. Nasty little buggers.

Her choice of attire earned her that first broad smile of his. Talk about an icebreaker.

“M’lady,” Tom unfolded himself from his seat and gave her a polite nod accompanied with a gentle wink. “Good sir,” Charlotte beamed at the elegant appearance in front of her, “will this do?” “You look lovely darling,” he kissed her on the cheek. There was that wonderful scent again. His beard softly brushed against her cheek, “I’m pleased you made it.” “Well you didn’t exactly give me the chance to say no, did you?” she impishly reprimanded. “It’s all Benedict really. He requested your presence for his birthday. I have nothing to do with it.” “No, you’re just the innocent messenger,” Charlotte teased. “Quite right,” he added with a proud nod, “we – I mean he thought you might appreciate the warmth of company, rather than a lonely hotel room.” “How very considerate of,” she paused calculatedly, “him,”

A mischievous grin followed as he offered her his arm, “let’s go, shall we?”

After that successful lecture she was oozing with confidence. She felt quite bold and adventurous all of a sudden. But Charlotte also had a lousy sense of direction and once in Tom’s car she internally fretted whether this was a good idea or not. Where was she headed? Was he a good driver? The control freak in her fought for supremacy, whereas her tired mind looked forward to an evening of mystery and was more than eager to surrender herself to whatever surprises that might cross her path in the course of the evening. Charlotte wriggled in her seat and it didn’t go by unnoticed.

“Are you alright darling?” he queried humorously. “Yes,” she nodded before adding with a kind-hearted laugh, “actually no. You drive on the other side of the road for starters.”

There was that second broad smile of the night.

“Also,” she puffed out a short exhale, “I’m suddenly very aware that I am putting my life in your hands here.” He glanced over at the young woman next to him and nodded in earnest now, “I am aware.” “Be careful with it?” it sounded more flirtatious than she had intended. But it was immediately rewarded with a lopsided smile of his and his heartfelt word. “I promise that you will not regret having put your trust in me…”

2.  

When the front door swung open, it revealed a very happy birthday boy. Benedict was obviously in tremendous good spirits and cheerfully he guided his guests into his home. As they exchanged pleasantries, he watched his friend guide his ‘plus one’ for the evening inside. And it occured to him then and there that it really was a delightful thing to see.

Tom had run this particular idea past Benedict earlier that day. He’d mentioned having spent the previous night out and about with Charlotte and just felt like maybe, surely, it would a fitting thing to invite her to this little get-together. ‘So she could spend an evening in pleasant company rather than in a lonely hotel room. You know just to reciprocate that informal BBQ-event from earlier that month’. However, Tom was not the one throwing the party.

It had taken Benedict no consideration at all to agree with Tom’s idea. Finally, he teased, you’re bringing a ‘plus one’ for a change… Tom had chuckled and rolled his eyes at this. ‘No, no, none of that. She’s pleasant company, it’s the right thing to do and that was that.’

But, in secret, he did look forward to spending some more time with her. Her and her warm laugh, her perceptive humour and quick wit. He wanted to know how her lecture had been, had it been well received? Was she happy about her day, what were her further plans, what was that book again she’d labelled a must-read for him the previous night… He felt as though there were more questions to ask, more stories to be shared. All purely platonic of course.

Tom still kicked himself a bit for having acted so forward earlier that month. And he was quite hesitant about meeting her again in the Theatre the night before. All ‘should he or shouldn’t he’. Should he ignore that anything had ever happened between them earlier on, or should he offer - another - apology about it? All this apprehension on his part had instantly vanished though the moment he’d set his eyes on her again in the Theatre yesterday. It had been lovely to see her again, to talk to her again. And he quickly concluded that the past was merely water under the bridge. She didn’t seem to be hung-up on it. So neither should he. He was only hung up on her. But… pure platonically. Of course.

Because Tom was far too rational to believe in silly, trivial things such as love at first sight. His mind didn’t deem it possible. You just cànnot fall in love with someone you don’t know. However he did accept there was something like ‘lust at first sight’. And that had to be what it was. It was the only explanation for what had occurred twelve days ago. That and alcohol. After all, the facts were the facts. He’d spend weeks on end travelling around the globe, suffering jet lag after jet lag, answering all the same questions all over again. (Although creatively repackaged by every single interviewer or talk show host, bless them.)

And while it was unquestionably exciting to launch the new movie, beyond pleasing to finally be able to reward all fans for their relentless support and anxiously await their reactions, at the end of the day - in whatever time zone he was residing-  Tom was exhausted, lonesome and yearning for home, his home, his dog, his family. Full stop.

That night at ComiCon was the early prelude to his 8 week-hiatus. He’d let go of everything and was enchanted with conversations that for once did not centre around his work. He might have had a gin tonic too many, that was true. But he did enjoy the fact his mind was allowed to roam free for a while. Charlotte had asked the right questions, said the right things, she was a breath of fresh air and he –foolishly- took it.

Tom snapped out of his thoughts when he’d heard Benedict mentioning his wife Sophie was just putting their 2 children to bed. A pang of remorse went through him; there was an anecdote he had promised to share with them that evening and now it was too late. His remorse must have been showing, because Benedict was quick to suggest Tom could – if he wanted to - just run up very-very quickly to say goodnight and share whatever his kids had been going on and on about that afternoon. ‘Just don’t wind them up too much‘, Benedict warned in a true paternal style.

Though relieved, Tom’s attention momentarily drifted back to Charlotte. He couldn’t just leave her there all alone, now could he? That would be bad form on him towards his ‘plus one’. But Benedict – bless his heart – had already quipped that he would make sure to introduce Charlotte to the rest of the group in the meantime. He’d offered her his arm, which she did not hesitate to accept, and with a soft chuckle Charlotte urged Tom to go ahead and visit the children before Benedict galantly led her the way to the garden.

3. The sight immediately took Charlotte’s breath away. The heat in London was unbearable. Even at night the temperatures hardly dropped. The sight of a peaceful garden party under a canopy of trees brought joy to her heart. Forget that bath and that book. Air-conditioning or not. Here a person could breathe and come back to earth again…

The guests consisted of a small group of people, mostly Benedict’s closest friends from college days. And as promised, Charlotte was kindly introduced to the group, who was very welcoming towards her. She was seated on a picnic bench at a picture perfect table. A genuine and spontaneous debate ensued when Charlotte answered toward the reason of her stay in the city. Frankly, she’d gotten quite used to the level of controversy end of life-matters created and she readily met all opinions that bounced onto her - both pro and contra her reasoning - with diplomacy, tact and humour.

She wasn’t aware of Tom’s return until she felt his hand softly resting against her shoulder blade. “I see you’re blending in well,” he whispered softly as he took the seat to her side. “Kids went too sleep alright?” Benedict queried as he sweetly placed a kiss on his wife’s lips as she momentarily rested against the armrest of his chair. “Perfect,” Sophie replied, “Uncle Tom apparently reads the best bedtime-stories,” “I made a promise,” a timid laugh on his behalf, “and I don’t like to break my promises.” “Hmm, I’m amazed no one has made you a godfather yet,” Benedict’s wife pondered quietly. “Well, maybe now’s a better time than ever?” Benedict chuckled as he placed his hand on his wife’s stomach, “after this perfect birthday present ever.”

The table went dead quiet as the news of the pregnancy slowly sank in. If Charlotte hadn’t felt out of place before, she sure felt like it now. Within seconds congratulations were up in the air, friends kissed and hugged the expecting couple while a very confused yet proud Tom solemnly swore to take his duty as godfather very seriously.

Charlotte evidently made a point of congratulating both parents before turning to her side to extend her heartfelt wishes to a visibly affected Tom. Without thinking she enthusiastically planted a sweet kiss onto his cheek. She was the first and only one who did. It flattered him. It graced her.

The announcement was the joyous prelude of what turned out to be an easy-going and quite entertaining evening. Charlotte was delighted at how the friendliness of the company quickly enclosed her, how they were mindful of her in conversations and elaborated on some background details so she would be able to follow. Her eyes had darted from the group of friends to Tom on occasion. She particularly enjoyed how at times his words could make her feel as though she was the only one he was talking to.

She was introduced to some silly British party games and laughed profusely when the moment came for the real birthday celebration. Tom kindly narrated the usual order of their silly ritual and Charlotte rested her hand on his arm when she was stuck in a fit of giggles because of it.

Tom was thoughtful and attentive. At the slightest shiver he had draped his jacket over her shoulders before he offered to fetch the pashmina she’d left in his car.

Their interaction had a familiar feel to it. It just … worked. If she would have to put it into words, she would probably confess that he made her feel welcome and appreciated. She honestly never would have put any more rational thought into it. That is until Benedict’s wife struck up a conversation with her while Tom had sauntered off in search of Charlotte’s scarf.

The brunette leaned in a bit closer from across the table and exchanged a kind smile with Charlotte. “I see Tom’s taking good care of you,”

Linguistically it was a simple observation, but everybody knows that in between women a lot can be said through simple observations. Perhaps even more than we hold dearly. “Yes, he’s very considerate,” Charlotte agreed, after all it was true. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

A loud cackle escaped from Charlotte’s throat. She wasn’t even aware she could cackle. She feverishly giggled the comment away, and hoped she didn’t turn beet red in the process. “No, no,” she shook her head, “believe me, no dates here… I’m just a ‘plus one’ for the evening – a pity invite if you will.”

But the expecting brunette simply smiled encouragingly under a knowing nod and continued as if Charlotte had never protested against her question. “Men like these are hard to come by…”

It was a beautiful and very fitting compliment towards Tom. He earned all credit in that department. He was handsome but not the in-your-face kind of way, he was attentive but also deliciously masculine. He was intelligent and hilariously funny when he wanted to be. And, though tipsy, he had proven to being a great kisser… Ok, ok, so he would be a catch. But Charlotte wasn’t really looking for anything. Right? Right.

”Believe me, Charlotte,” she nudged, “I know.” She caught Sophie secretively and not so secretively rewarding her doting husband with a wink. A testament of a deep and true love, it warmed Charlotte’s heart.

4.

If she had to be honest, Sophie’s words did resonate with her. Charlotte excused herself to go to the restroom, while in fact she just wanted to get away from the conversation. She let the cold water run over her wrists, checked her make-up in the mirror and sighed. Charlotte had wanted to blame the alcohol for giving someone courage to blurt out such a fictitious statement, but Sophie was undeniable sober because hello - pregnant?

Charlotte’s inner control freak had allowed her only one glass of champagne so she was indisputably lucid enough to see things for what they were. Her tireless mind kindly reminded her Tom hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since his first and only glass of champagne, being the designated driver and all.

As Charlotte’s mind quickly recapped it concluded that Tom was just being charming and chivalrous. So definitely-maybe pregnancy hormones were plaguing Sophie. And possibly she was just joking, after all how good did Charlotte really know her?

But more, much more than this Charlotte was astonished why she was even given this silly remark so much thought. Why was she getting worked up over this? After all, she was going home the following day. She would never see Tom - or anyone else for that matter - again after this evening. As the realisation hit, her stomach dropped a bit.

Charlotte scolded herself and commanded herself to stop being so pubertal about it. Still deep in thought she strolled back out onto the patio, taking a moment to admire the scenery. A couple of women sat chatting at the table, in the backyard a small group of friends were quarrelling over a game of Kubb. It really was a lovely evening, she mused, and she owed it to herself to enjoy it more profusely.

"Hi,” his accustomed voice rang into her ear. With a smile Charlotte greeted Tom as he walked out of the house himself, “hi.” “Found it,” he held up her pashmina proudly as he walked up to her. He was tall; it made her thankful she’d opted to wear a reasonable height in pumps… “You look good,” Charlotte pondered.

Shit. Was that out loud?

“Better rested, I mean. You look… better rested.” Charlotte hastened to add and stumbled over her words. She laughed and shook her head; her hand carefully rubbing her forehead in the process, “oh I’m tripping over my words tonight, aren’t I?” “You’re tired,” Tom concluded amused. “I am,” she agreed, “I think I have more understanding for you and your travelling ways now. It seems so glamorous from afar, but …” “It does get under your skin, doesn’t it?” She nodded with a smile, “hmm.” “Allow me,” he offered. And though Charlotte chuckled and mentioned it was fine, Tom remained adamant in his intent to drape the refined accessory over her shoulders.

Perfect gentleman, see Sophie? A mere perfect gentleman.

“I can’t get over how beautiful this place is,” Charlotte mentioned while he dutifully unfolded the silky scarf, “such a quiet green oasis in the midst of the madness.”

“Mmm, it’s quite something, isn’t it? Sophie really has a knack for design and decorating… ” he added while frowning over which side was in and wish side was out.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Charlotte smiled at the sight of Tom stubbornly struggling along, “that was very considerate of you. Thank you.” A humorous sigh escaped Charlotte’s lips and she shook her head in comical despair  “I keep repeating myself.”

“You do,” he answered softly, locking his eyes with hers momentarily, “but I don’t mind repeating you’re very welcome.”

He turned the pashmina in his hands around proudly, “I think I’ve got in now…” and with that draped it around her and over her shoulders.

Charlotte enjoyed the languid rhythm of their conversation. It contrasted so marvellously towards the hectic day that had left her drained. And the entertaining festivities in the evening had allowed her to release all the built-up adrenaline. Fatigue fell over her like a soft blanket and she supressed a yawn but held a chuckle when she saw him bunching up the material as he tried out some type of elegant knot. Her hands clasped over his, “no, no, not like that, no knots…”

“Christ I’m helpless at this, I’m afraid,” he admitted with a sigh as his eyes briefly locked with hers. “But such a beautiful summer night, isn’t it? Festivities, music in the air,"  he continued and gestured towards her, "pleasant company, …”

Charlotte’s mind short circuited for a moment when she caught him looking at her again. With sympathy. His look was honest and warm, his eyes mesmerizingly blue. She saw his tongue quickly dart over his lips as he breathed in, ready to speak on.

And though her heart thundered in her chest, she didn’t feel any warmer. Not one bit. Quite the contrary. An observable shiver ran across her spine.

“Are you all right darling? Are you cold, still?” Tom questioned apprehensively.

Charlotte - grateful for the diversion that allowed her to tear her eyes away from Tom at long last - shook her head, hoping it would chase away this sudden cloud of confusion that had started to enclose her. She pulled the pashmina higher and tighter over her shoulders, wishing she could curl up and hide in it altogether.

“No, just tired. I get cold when I’m tired,” she tilted her head, “It’s erm – it’s been a long day.”

“Oh! Right,” he remembered, his right hand flying to his head at his silly neglect.

“And I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow, …”

“Surely, no talks about death over breakfast already?”

“Well... yes. Basically,” Charlotte smiled apprehensively, “we’re a fun group, I tell you.”

“Shall I take you back to your hotel?” he voiced his concern.

“No, no, I don’t want to impose, I could get a taxi just as well…”

“I’ll have none of that,”

“I know, but I’m fine.”

“Even if you did - and you are most definitely not -” he interrupted her kindly, “I’d happy to oblige nonetheless. C’mon, let’s go.” And with that he ran his warm hand up and down her spine reassuringly, an effort to bring her warmth... but Charlotte only shivered once more.