Headstrong (A Benedict Cumberbatch Story)

Chapter 6

Saturday. 6pm. Panic.

I hopped around my flat with toe seperators on, letting my varnish dry and debating whether to go "posh club" or "slightly formal pub" with my clothes. I couldn't go and check what Ellie was wearing, considering I was in my underwear and had a face mask on. Then I remembered I had her number. Texting about clothes was what girlfriends do, right?

Hey, what are you wearing to go out tonight?

Anxiously awaiting her reply, I scrubbed my face clean and took my hair out of its curlers. My phone beeped.

Go out wherrrr?!

Oh no.

My heart was set hammering even harder in my chest at a knock on the door. Grabbing my dressing gown, I poked my head round the door. Benedict was standing there in a thick wool jumper and corduroy trousers, with tousled hair still damp from a shower and one eyebrow raised.

"I'm guessing you're not ready?" he asked.

"Why do you two always manage to catch me unprepared to go anywhere ?" I muttered, and he chuckled, sending a flush to my cheeks. I'd made him laugh.

"How long do you need?" Benedict said, and I tightened the belt on my dressing gown before letting him into my flat.

"10 minutes." I confirmed; I motioned to the sofa, where the cat had just curled up. As soon as Benedict sat down, I raced into my bedroom and put on jeans, black leather boots and a deep purple top. Leaving my face bare of make up I scooped up a small bag and ventured back into the living room. The two Benedicts were getting on fine; the cat was lying across his lap and purring as he scratched his tummy, just where I knew he liked it.

I could look at them forever -

"Ah, you're ready. Shall we go?" Benedict shifted the cat onto the cushions and stood up. I nodded and picked up my keys.

"Can I ask where it is we're going? And... where Ellie is?" I spoke hesitantly and Benedict put his hands in his pockets,

"Ellie's out clubbing. She thinks I'm going to meet a friend who owns the little guitar shop not far from here. We do have to stop by there to pick up my new guitar - after drinks of course."

I nodded understandingly and thought to myself,

"That would explain her texting abilities going downhill." we went out the door and headed to a bar Benedict wanted to show me.

**

As we sat and awaited our drinks, we watched the pianist and violinist in the corner; letting the music wash over us like ocean water, warm and gentle and mellow... the sound could be described simply as blue, a deep, deep blue.

With the music in my ears, I was fixated on Benedict's face. That elegant, angular face that could almost be an oil painting, soft and lovely with the delicate widening of his cheekbones. That pale complexion that could have turned a golden brown after a week in the sun and the impossibly blue eyes filled with light. I could almost see the music reflected in them. I lowered my gaze to his firm mouth, lips slightly parted and breathing quickly, creating a warmth in the air between us. His body swayed gently and eventually his eyes rolled towards me, smiling along with those incomparable lips. His hand outstretched and eyebrows raised expectantly, Benedict spoke,

"Shall we dance?"