This Won't Have A Name For A While

30. Hold Back The Rain

Later, we were both sitting in the back of a taxi, on our way to the fanciest restaurant John could find. I’d tried to convince him that we didn’t need to go anywhere posh, but he’d insisted, saying he still felt bad for last night and wanted to treat me. How could I say no? So I’d broken out my best dress - a figure-hugging white one I’d bought on the same trip to the shopping mall in New York - and done myself up to the best of my ability. The look was either stunning or completely horrifying, because John kept staring at me surreptitiously. He’d chosen a shirt and blazer, and shockingly, a pair of leather trousers; I wish he hadn’t, since all I could think of was getting him out of them again. I needed to get my thoughts in check before we went out in public.

–“Does it look that bad?”– I asked self-consciously.

Taken aback, John replied,

–“you could never ever look bad, in fact, you look wonderful tonight, and if we weren’t in the back of a taxi, I’d have shagged you already!”–

What a tease.

–“I could say the same about you.”–

He gave me his best mock-lusty look, then grinned. After that, we fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the journey, with me resting my head on his jacketed shoulder.

Eventually, we arrived at the restaurant, and it was absolutely beautiful. It was a traditional whitewashed building on the outskirts of our nearest town, with rows of fairy lights strung from the terracotta roofing, bathing the seating area in warm, pale light. We ended up seated by a tall wooden window overlooking coastline different to our villa, this time dotted with scraggy bushes that encircled a plantation of lemon trees. Even from here we could smell the lemons, which had been warming in the sun all day, and gave off a heavenly scent now, in the early evening.

When I’d gotten over the initial awe, we ordered, and were soon presented with two massive dishes of food, and complimentary wine. John and I exchanged an impressed look, before starting on the huge meals before us.

–“I’ve been thinking, John...”– I began between mouthfuls, and the content expression on his face twisted into a concerned one.

His worry seeped into his reply,

–“What about?”–

–“Calm down,”– I told him gently, –“I’ve been wondering what’ll happen to us when we get back to America”–.

At that, the anxiety drained from him and he sighed in relief. Had I really made him that worried?

–“I’ve been wondering the same thing,”– he confessed, –“but I soon realised we can still see each other quite easily. After all, I’m in New York with the Power Station.”–

–“But it won’t be like this...”– I sighed, gesturing generally with one hand, and  pushing the tagliatelle around the porcelain dish with the other.

The reality of our relationship was starting to really dawn on me - surely I’d known deep down that we couldn’t escape real life forever? Obviously, and I was angry at myself for trying to hide it.

–“No, it won’t. But we can have real dates, like a real couple. It’ll be special, Irene”–.

John saw how down I was staring to feel, and tried to cheer me up. His hand went to mine and held it steadily, making me lock eyes with him, which already soothed my sadness. I attempted not to sniffle.

–“Yes,”– I put on a brave face, –“you’ll have to date me properly.”–

John grinned his warm, wide, friendly smile at me, and I nearly melted in the middle of the restaurant.

–“You know...”– he began.

–“What?”–

–“You could always move in with me, and stay in my apartment. There’s plenty of room, and we’ll be together all the time, just like here.”– He suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Was he serious?

–“I’m not sure about that!”2 I laughed back. Instantly, an expression of poorly-masked hurt crossed his face, and I cursed myself for being so brazen with him.

–“It was only a suggestion.”– He said in a small, disappointed voice.

He let go of my hand. For some ridiculous reason I felt hot tears forming in my eyes and almost kicked myself for my stupidity. I’d completely shut down the poor man, the one who I was completely enamoured by! I had to backtrack, and quick.

–“No, John, please don’t be upset with me, I hate to see you unhappy,”– I back-pedalled as fast as humanly possible, –“it’s just that I still live with my parents, and they wouldn’t let me leave to live with a strange man they’ve never met. They’re probably angry beyond belief at me already. And we’ve barely known each other a month-“–

His eyes, turned away from my own earlier, fixed themselves on me again and eyed me with caution, deciding the best way to reply. We’d both stopped eating. For me, it was the anxiety churning in the pit of my stomach which was preventing me from having another mouthful. Yet again, I teared up. I’d completely messed up our lovely evening, we’d go back straight away, and John would stop talking to me for sure, and we’d spend the rest of our holiday hating each other, and everything would go wrong-

–“Irene!”– John spoke loudly to me, as if he’d been trying to get my attention for a while.

–“Sorry, I completely understand if you want to go home now,”– I couldn’t even look at him as I almost whispered.

–“What?”– He looked at me incredulously, –“Why would I ever want to do that? I completely understand if you don’t feel ready yet, I’m just a little disappointed is all.”– He took my hand again.

Finally, I gazed up at him and smiled weakly. He returned it, showing me how beautiful he really was under the soft lighting, where he almost glowed. I was blessed to have him.

–“Thanks for understanding,”–

Then, much to his surprise I leaned across the table and planted a kiss on his surprised lips, which quickly became too intense for a restaurant. Desperately, his tongue found its way inside. He started grabbing the side of my face and made me sigh right into his mouth, which in turn fuelled him even more. The other hand was gripping my own tightly. We carried on that way until I accidentally put a hand in my bowl of pasta trying to find a handhold, spoiling our moment. His quiet groans became peals of laughter and he broke away giggling unceremoniously.

–“We’re getting judging looks, Irene!”– He laughed quietly.

–“I don’t care,”– I said, placing my hand on his thigh and letting it wander higher up.

He went wide-eyed.

–“Later, Irene. There’s plenty of time tonight, love.”–

Slyly, I drew back slowly. Oh yes, there was a LOT we could do later.