Sunshine

She steered us to a bench and sat down beside me. She leaned back, crossed her legs, and watched me.

I found her direct scrutiny extremely distracting, so I stared fixedly at my lap and fiddled with my tacky belt buckle in a futile attempt to divert myself from how very unsettling she was.

"Was there anything to be jealous about?"

"No. At least... I don't think so. Not on my side, at least. Not that I'm aware of. I mean... sure, I look, right, but... it's not like..."

"No little bit of warm no-strings-attached spice on the side for you, hmm?"

"Who would ever want me?" I retorted bitterly.

She stared at me for a moment.

"Oh, honey," she sighed. "You're such an innocent."

For the first time in our conversation I actually laughed.

"Me?" I added, bitter and disbelieving.

"Yeah. You."

She relented. "So... nothing on the side. Are you... committed... to this misbehaved and short-sighted girl?"

"If you'd asked me yesterday I'd have said yes... despite..."

"And now?" she gently probed.

I glared at the leaves that littered the paving stones in front of us.

"Who the fuck knows," I sighed. "I've got no idea where she is. I haven't heard from her in nearly two days. Even someone as dense as me has to admit that that's not something someone does unless..."

"Unless they have somewhere else to stay. But, you never know, it could be innocent. A cooling off period at friends, or at parents... but, as you said... who the fuck knows," she repeated.

She stretched her arms up above her and arched her back.

"So ask me where I'm from," she said. "I know you're dying to..."

"Um... where are you from, Tash?"

"London," she said, with a wide grin, as she waved her arm to encompass everything around us. "Born and bred. But Mam's Irish, so that's probably what you're hearing. Me brogue," she added in a hilariously over-the-top accent.

"Oh. It's... nice."

"I know," she said, amused. "And I use it shamelessly. It's my secret weapon. Alas, it only works sometimes. And seldom when I want it to. So... in all seriousness... what are you going to do now, Mia?"

"I don't know," I said, softly. "Go home, I guess. Pray that she comes home, and that she wants to talk rather than shout. I don't think I can handle more shouting."

"And what if she doesn't?"

"Then I guess that's... finally it. I'll cry a lot, and drink a lot, and go home with the first pretty girl who's even remotely kind to me..."

And I stammered and flushed beetroot red as what I'd said registered on my ears.

But Natasha just smiled and looked away.

.:.

"Call me, sometime, if you want to," she said. "I've... enjoyed this morning with you. I'd... like to do it again, sooner rather than later."

I stared up at her, trying to fix her face in my mind.

I knew I wouldn't see her again; beings like her crossed the paths of nobodies like me only rarely, and never for long. And, anyway, even on the off chance... well...

She was so far out of my league...

And then I realised what I was doing.

I sighed, and tried to fight down the bitterness that took me.

Amelie had been right.

I was a cheater.

She'd just been a day or so early with her accusations.

I took a shaky breath.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." I whispered.

"Mia? Hey," Tash said, softly. "Stop that. Look at me."

I reluctantly looked up, fearful that she'd be able to divine what I was thinking...

"It will be OK. I promise."

"I... wish I could believe you."

She stepped closer, and I swallowed hard.

She stared at me for a long moment from well within kissing distance.

I flinched as she wrapped her arms around me and gathered me in against her, then relaxed against her with a little sound that I couldn't quite control.

"Call me. You have my number. Don't be a stranger," she breathed into my ear. I made some other stupid little sound and she pulled me hard against her; I couldn't help but hesitantly wrap my own arms around her and bury my face in her glorious umber mane.

"God, you smell good," my stupid, ill-governed, traitorous mouth said without any conscious effort on my part.

I heard her soft laughter.

She released me and brushed her lips to my cheek.

I stood there, rooted to the ground, tongue tied and stupid as I watched her walk away.

"I'll call you!" I called after her, when I found my voice again. "I promise!"

She turned and smiled and waved.

.:.

I spent the afternoon on my couch, slowly pickling myself on horrific white wine, cycling terrible movies on Amy's Netflix account to provide background noise as I sat and grimly obsessed over how to swing my most recent two months of employment on my CV.

"Left to pursue other interests," I muttered. "Decided that it wasn't a good fit. Recruiter lied... no. Can't say that, Melissa. That will piss them off. Red flag. Boss was a prick. Can't say that either. Endemic sexual harass... no. Definitely not."

What sunlight there was crawled slowly over the floor.

I tried, desperately, not to think of Natasha.

And I failed at that as well.

Tall. Gentle.

Gorgeous

And not too aloof to hold and comfort some stupid girl that she barely knew.

I slowly vanquished another glass of really quite awful wine, and watched the not-quite-sunbeams slowly slide past my toes.

Footsteps would occasionally pass my door; the click-clack of heels making me sit up in anticipation, only for me to slump down again as they passed onwards to the next flight of stairs.

And so I slouched, and slowly got drunker, and fantasised wistfully about green eyes and shadow-red hair and a heart-stopping smile that would never be mine.

It had long-since stopped being entertaining, and I'd long-since stopped paying attention to the traffic outside, when another set of footsteps paused outside the door...

Keys rattled in the lock.

I struggled to my feet and turned to face the tiny fake entry hall, trying to compose myself, trying to wake my stultified, alcohol-soaked brain so I didn't fuck up my apology...

"... don't think she's home. Let's get my stuff..."

"OK." said a female voice that I didn't recognise.

"Hi, Amy," I managed, as my heart shrivelled up and blew away like last year's leaves.

"... Fuck," said the stranger.

"You might as well come in. You can introduce me," I added, surprised by how level my voice was. "Don't mind me, I'm going to go back to drinking. I guess I... might as well."

Amelie slid scarlet-faced into the flat, followed by some tall thin pretty thing who took and clung to her hand possessively as she gave me an angry glare.

"Who's your... friend?" I said, softly.

"Mia, please, don't be dramatic..."

"I'm exhausted. I have nothing left for drama. I wasted it all trying to find you before I realised you probably just didn't want to be found... by me, at least. C'est la vie, right? I'm glad you're alive. I was worried about that."

"Mia..."

"It's OK, Amelie. It's OK. I get it. I understand. I don't blame you. Who's... your new... friend?"

"Jenny," the tall pretty thing answered.

"Hi, Jenny. It's... nice to meet you... finally, I suppose it is, right? How long... no, wait, I don't need to know. Don't mind me at all. Pretend I'm not here; I won't intrude. Just... lock up when you're done, please. I don't think I have the strength to manage it."

"Mia..." Amy said, again.

"It's done, Amelie. Take what you came to get. I'm not here anyway. Not in any sense that should matter any more."

I sat down, turned my back on them, and tried very, very hard to keep it together.

"Was she always like this during the day? Drunk?" I heard the new girlfriend whisper.

"No. Never," I heard Amy answer, and I smiled bitterly.

At least my last memory of her wouldn't be of lies.

I heard her move closer.

"Mia?" she tried once more, softly.

"Mm?"

"What's... wrong?"

"You're really going to ask me that?" I said. "Really? Here, right now, after this?"

"I guess it's a... stupid question," she sighed.

"I'm sorry for what I said to you," I whispered. "I regret the names I called you. You... you should have at least let me know you were safe, Amelie. That was... cold. I was so scared for you. That was all you needed to do, you know."

"I'm... sorry."

"It's done. Let me know when you want to collect the rest of your things. I'll... make sure I'm somewhere else. So it won't be awkward for... both of you. Drop the keys through the postbox... sometime."

"Mia..."

"No, Amy. Best you take what you need and go. I... I don't want to fight, I can't, I can't today, and your... girlfriend... shouldn't have to see us fighting."

"Mia, please... not like this..."

"Be... be well, Amelie. Give my love to your dad. For what it's worth, she's really pretty. Far prettier than me. I'm... glad for you. I hope you'll be happy."

I heard the noise she made, but I turned my face away and ignored them, even though it felt like I couldn't breathe at all.

And at last she gave up, and went to her new girlfriend, and they slowly gathered those things of Amelie's that were easily at hand.

And I stared at the window, and held my tears at bay, and silently drank my wine.

Finally they were done. I heard the door open.

"Goodbye, Mia," she said.

I could hear the sadness in her voice.

"Goodbye, Amelie," I breathed.

I raised my glass, and drained it, and didn't watch her leave.

The door clicked closed behind them.

And I slumped over, and pulled my pillow to me, and sobbed in silent brutal rictus until my throat was raw and my lungs ached and my eyes hurt too much to see.

.:.

I studied my reflection.

I was a wreck.

I had a little under an hour to try to do something, anything, to make myself a bit more presentable for the commute and what was likely my last day at work for a while.

I wanted to go out with a little bit of pride.

If today was it, then at least I'd not make a scene. I'd pass away like smoke and be forgotten by everyone there.

And that would be just fine.

I'd chosen my outfit - a tight blue blouse, my decent grey trousers and matching pinstripe jacket. I'd added small understated earrings of the sort I'd seen one or two of the senior management wear. And I'd decided on flat shoes instead of heels for once; if I left today I was not going to run the risk of tripping and smashing my face.

I stared at my unkempt hair, then slowly and gently worked the tangles out with a comb. I followed with the French brush that Amelie had bought for me in a long-ago fit of despair over my usual tatty rats-nest ponytail that she was always nagging me about...

And then I had to lean against the basin and gasp helplessly until the wave of bitter pain had passed.

Had.

Had nagged me about.

Past tense.

Alone again.

Present tense.

I stared at my hairbands.

Faded, day-glo colours belonging to an innocent girl.

But I wasn't a girl any more.

Perhaps it was time to put away my childish things.

So I simply let the straw-coloured mess assume its natural curls, draping down just past my shoulders in uneven falls that a good-natured liar might have charitably called golden.

I sniffed, and went to work with base and concealer. It didn't hide everything but at least I no longer looked like a consumption victim once I was done.

I studied myself again.

Objectively, I didn't look so bad. The same good-natured liar might even venture "somewhat attractive".

Not a terrible outcome given everything that had happened in the last few days.

I sniffed.

My hangover left me too nauseous to eat, so I elected to simply get going and make use of the emptier tube carriages that would await me. My stomach would hopefully have settled by the time I was in the City, and I could potentially grab something small and cheap from a coffee shop near work...

Call me sometime

The words slid past my defences, and I squeezed my eyes closed and took several deep breaths.

Of course I couldn't.

Apart from anything else, it was far too early, and I was broken, and newly single, and a fuckup and broken, and what right did I have...

But now I was utterly alone, and so very lonely, and I needed someone, anyone, any faint ghost of contact with absolutely anyone at all to let me know that at least, even if just for a sliver of a moment, someone was thinking kindly of me...

And the urge to reach out to someone... to anyone...

I fumbled for my phone, bit my lip, and seized the last dregs of courage in some dim forgotten corner of my soul.

"Fuck it," I whispered, and I began to type.

It's me. Just wanted to say...

"Say what, doofus," I muttered, as I stared down at the screen. "Thank you for dealing with my crying? Thank you for becoming my latest fixation? Thank you for being the hottest woman ever to even look at me? God, Mia, you're useless."

I sniffed again, deleted some words.

Thank you for being there for me

There. Simpler. No obligation for her to answer. She'd respond if she felt generous enough.

I doubted she would though.

But... nevertheless...

I hoped.

.:.

I sat in silence as the Northern line train ground and screeched its way into Old Street Underground Station. Both train and platform were blessedly empty; ample space to breathe, room to think for once.

Mostly about her, to be honest. About the very particular green of her eyes, and the way her lips curved naturally into a smile, and the luxuriant softness of her hair, of her skin, the gentle aura of citrus that had wafted around me when she'd held me to her, the firm contours of her body pressed to mine...

I groaned, pushed my knees together, tried to fight away the phantasm of her.

But it was hopeless.

I was smitten; I knew the signs far too well for it to be anything else.

Stupid little broken Mia, not even a day clear of her prior flaming catastrophe, had already fallen for the next unattainable girl...

I shook my head, furious with myself.

But there was nothing I could do.

My fixation would need to run its course, which it would thankfully swiftly do given that I'd never see or hear from her again...

I made my way slowly up to street level. There was time for a coffee. And, maybe, something to eat as well...

My phone pinged, and I nearly dropped it as I jumped at the unexpected noise.

I fumbled for it, and my heart juddered painfully as I realised that she had answered me.

I closed my eyes, swallowed, and then opened her message.

Hello poppet. How lovely to hear from you so soon. Is today execution day?

I smiled despite myself.

I'm all dressed up and ready for the scaffold. Should please the crowd.

I ducked into a coffee shop, and decided to risk eating a pastry while I waited for the office to open.

I'll flounce in to rescue you in the nick of time, and we'll ride off into the sunset.

I flushed.

I wish... I responded.

My phone began to vibrate. An incoming call.

From her...

Oh God oh shit oh fuck...

I experienced three seconds of visceral panic in which I nearly flung my phone away from me.

"Um... hello?" I managed, when I finally managed to answer her call with my suddenly clumsy fingers.

"Hello you," she mumbled. "Typing when I'm asleep is hard. Voice is easier. Less need to move."

"Oh. Oh no. Did I..."

"Wake me? Yes," she said. Then she yawned.

I was mortified.

"Oh God, Natasha, I'm so sorry..."

"Tash, babe. And nonsense. It's a lovely way to wake up."

"Oh... er...."

"You're blushing, aren't you?"

I blushed even hotter.

"... is it that obvious?" I sighed.

"Yes," she laughed softly. "It's OK, Mia, I don't mind. I would have woken up in a few anyway. And your voice is such a lovely sultry alarm clock. Where are you?"

"I'm... at a coffee shop near work, waiting for the headsman to arrive."

"You'll be fine," she yawned again. "So... quickly, before I get distracted... I'll be in Central again a bit later."

"Oh... you will?"

"Yeah. I'll come loiter near where I found you. Do you know where King's Bakery is?"

"No."

"It's near Kings Square gardens. Northwest of where we were yesterday. I'll look for you at noon... if you like."

"... Yes," I managed.

"Yes, I'll look for you, or yes, you'll be there?"

"Yes, those," I repeated, face flaming, feeling unutterably clumsy and stupid.

She laughed softly.

"See you later then, Mia," she breathed. "I'd better get up and get ready for the day. I'm... glad you phoned."

"Technically... you phoned me," I pointed out.

"Potato, potato. Mwa," she said, and broke the connection.

And I sat, staring at my phone, wondering what the hell had just happened.

It took me quite some time to realise that I was smiling.

.:.

She waved to me from the table she'd claimed. I took a breath, composed myself, and made my way to her. I sat down across from her and tried very hard to act like a normal person for once.

I lasted three seconds.

"Nice suit," she said. "You look all grown up. And your hair looks marvellous like that."

I touched it and ducked my head.

"Don't be shy," she chided me. She leaned forward, reached out and touched my hand. "Hey. Hey. Sorry. I didn't... I know... I know I can be quite... intense. Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"No, it's fine, it's not that," I said, shaking my head. "It's just... I'm not... used to this."

"To what?"

"... compliments," I whispered. "Especially not from..."

"From... " she said, suspiciously.

"From goddesses like you," I blurted out in a rush. "Oh God," I added, as I realised I hadn't filtered my thoughts at all.

She stared at me for a moment, then her lips curled into a small, warm, private smile.

"You flirt," she whispered. "And you're good at it, too. OK. Wow. I wasn't expecting that. I see I'll need to watch out around you. "

She leaned back with a sigh, head cocked to one side, still smiling, still watching me.

"So?" she said.

"So?"

"Did you survive?"

"God only knows how. Barely. But my pride got crucified in the town square. "

"Gruesome. So, what's the outcome?"

"I... have a month. If I can show a real improvement in... call it everything... then they'll keep me. My manager's a dick, but... but one of the seniors acknowledged that and said she saw... something in me. I have no idea what. I think she must have been high. They're... thinking of changing my reporting line to see if that helps. It can't get any worse," I sighed.

I stared down at the small paper menu and the line of printed flowers that bordered it.

I wondered why she cared.

"Take the lifeline and don't question it. Work on earning their trust back. I believe in you."

"I'm some random; a stray you picked up on the side of the road. You don't... you don't know me," I said softly. "Why would you believe in me? I... don't."

"You're gentle, you're sweet, you give great hugs, and your hair looks amazing when it frames your face the way you've let it do today. Especially when the sun catches it like it is doing right now."

"... what?" I whispered, not sure I was hearing her correctly.

"Lets see. What else. Your hands are the perfect size; they fit mine quite wonderfully. Your voice is lovely. Really smooth. You're a natural alto. I bet you sing to yourself sometimes but only when you think nobody can hear you, which is a massive shame because you could honestly read the phone book to me and I'd listen spellbound to every word."

I stared at her.

"Oh, and the way you purse your lips when you're all deer-in-headlights like you are right now is to die for. I love it."

She smiled at me. "Hi, I'm Tash," she said. "In case it's not obvious, I am way too forward for my own good, and I think you're cute as a button. There. How'd I do?"

"At..."

"Flirting back," she grinned. "With spades."