First Impressions. - Part 14.

It was July already. Where had the time gone? Steph sipped on her third coffee of the day, as she looked out of her kitchen window into the communal garden. Helen waved at her. She waved back. Now the willowy blonde was signing to call her. Probably about the latest cartoon she'd done. Steph was being reflective, so she sent a text informing her coworker the work she'd done was perfect. The emailed text of her latest article would be sent soon. The two of them had clicked. Which worried Steph initially. Helen was a mentally fragile English rose who'd lost her first child. Almost had a complete breakdown according to her. Becoming dissociated with reality. Moving through life without taking part. Her body might have been there, but Helen wasn't. It was the amount of empathy Steph felt which bothered her. It seemed selfish she presumed to now anything about what such loss and grief would feel like.

Was she herself stepping off sanity into madness? Her current situation felt surreal. As though she were living someone else's life without the benefit of that persons history or memories. Her own words felt scripted. Written for someone else. Oh shit she was losing it. Having survived all those trials and tribulations her mind had been broken. Now she was existing in a fantasy world. One where she was considering the possibility she and John could be a thing. Or have a thing. Happiness wasn't something she thought she could deal with long term. It was difficult short term. Having a thing with John involved Taz and Bella. They were a part of him. They were part of what had led her into this reflective mood. Her emotions were no longer a confusing, contradictory morass. It was over a month since she'd had revenge thoughts about Brendan. She rarely thought of him at all.

This potential thing with John? Was it him or Taz and Bella? Had the two females drawn her here? Steph reached out to touch the picture Bella had given her. It was all four of them holding hands. She found herself smiling. She'd been smiling a lot more recently. Laughter was no longer a strain on unused muscles. Was it him, or was it them? Steph knew it might be her fertile imagination. A delusion produced by a disturbed mind. What she thought she felt for him and from him might be a projection. He'd put his arm around her last night. The other was wrapped around Taz. John had kissed his kind of daughter on the top of her head. He'd only rested his cheek on hers. Was it something or was it nothing? Did she even want something with him?

The dinners were a near daily occurrence now. Thursday night still included music and dancing, even though the swing dance competition was over. He and Taz still practised every Sunday morning at a local hall. Friday, which she'd assumed was poker night, had become games night. Every week they played a different game. For some stupid reason Steph had thought she had to reciprocate. Have them up for dinner one evening. It had been an unmitigated disaster. Everything she'd served up was either burnt or undercooked. Food poisoning only avoided due to a distress call to Anthony. He had a chef at the bistro, but he was quite a good cook himself. She'd been hot, sweaty, bad tempered and pushed well beyond her ability to cope. Yet it was still one of the best nights she'd ever had. They gone to a chip shop five minutes drive away so they didn't go hungry. She'd been a dreadful hostess, far to angry and overwhelmed to apologize. Steph couldn't even remember what he'd said that made them all laugh. It was something about the first meal he'd cooked after his wife left him.

When he'd put his arm around her she'd had the feeling. It was brief, so brief she wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been so long since she'd last felt it. She'd never had the feeling with Brendan. She'd had the itch. Like the first time she'd met him and knew she wanted to have him. She'd had the same itch when he dumped her via text. The email he'd sent the following day hadn't been much longer and had only said the same thing. The itch told she was getting laid come what may. She would be getting over him by getting under someone else. That was her, the real her. This now? A delusional fantasy. Because, even if she and John became a thing, she'd do something to fuck it up. As she'd fucked up everything else in her life.

They'd had dates, that weren't dates. As in neither of them actually calling it a date. Two at the bistro and another two at a couple of restaurants. They'd talked. She'd flirted a little bit. Laughed too loudly at weak jokes. Tried too hard to be quirky and amusing. Purely because he'd said he'd found her quirky and amusing. Her own actions had set Steph's teeth on edge. She'd found herself annoying, but couldn't stop. The last date hadn't been as bad. She'd given up trying before they'd gone out. Steph linked her arm with his as they walked back. John had taken her to her front door, where he'd kissed her. On the back of her hand for Christ's sake. It was a nice gesture, but she'd have preferred some passion. Steph didn't want to be fighting off an octopus, but it would have been nice if he'd kissed her on the lips. No tongue would have been necessary. It would have been simply a gesture of intent on his part. To show this paragon of virtue had romantic feelings towards her. That possibly mirrored the ones she thought she might have towards him. Oh crap she was as clueless as him.

Tomorrow they had another date. This time he was cooking dinner for her. They would dine alone. No Taz or Bella. They'd be in the apartment of course. She and John weren't going to be that alone. Steph swallowed past the lump this thought brought to her throat. How could he have any feelings beyond friendship with her? They were polar opposites. Even friendship was a stretch considering her faults. It didn't just stop with her fat thighs and thick ankles. They were only the visual evidence of her unsuitability. As far as she could tell he'd gone up to a 7.5 as she'd gone down to a 5.5. By tomorrow night he could be an 8 while she drifted down to a 4. There were a lot of better looking younger women out there. She'd seen a picture of his ex wife. Who'd been extremely attractive. A gap between her slim thighs and ankles that didn't look like huge tree stumps. Okay that was when she was 19. By now she could be the size of a house. Only Steph wasn't competing with her current looks, she was competing with the memory of a fresh faced teenager.

Taz was no help at all. She wouldn't give Steph any information. Although she'd been the main impetus behind those dates. Which could have merely been a means to get John out of the house so she could chill without any adults being there to ruin the atmosphere. Except Taz wasn't as self serving as Steph. Equally as devious of course. A nailed on 9 on the attractiveness index. That could be her way into his affections. If she could decide if she wanted a way in. Steph could offer to help beat all the boys off. A few tricks and caustic put downs. That might not work though. Steph had already given Taz a lot of pointers about men's wicked ways. Mostly aimed at John, as far as she recalled.

Despite making a resolution to give up, giving up, Steph was going to give up. She'd been chasing around in circles. There was a slim chance John would eventually bone her. If it didn't work out he wasn't the type to avoid all contact or start a hate campaign against her. She was, but he wasn't. Revenge wasn't even in his vocabulary. If by some chance they did end up in a sexual relationship, Steph was sure if she cheated on him, he'd at least accept some of the blame. His wife had left him when Bella was only a few months old. Packed her bags and told him she was off when he came home from work. Not only had he accepted it, he'd not resented her. She'd been too young and unworldly. Their marriage was a foolish mistake which would have failed eventually anyway. The two of them were far too immature and inexperienced.

She was going to lie back and let whatever happened, happen. Knowing he'd be able to deal with all the fallout in a responsible way. But then there was the elephant in the room. The one which had appeared after being dumped. The one that scarred her more than anything else. The itch that couldn't be scratched. The memory of that excruciating pain still stinging after all this time. If the impossible happened, would she be capable of going through with it? If not, how would she explain without revealing what she was.

"You're overthinking it, whatever it is."
Taz had succeeding in scaring the shit out of her yet again. Arriving unnoticed. Steph shouldn't have given her a key. As she came back down to earth from that startled leap her train of thought was obliterated.
"Will you stop sneaking up on me." She whined. "I've got a lot on my mind. Now I can't remember what most of it is. It'll sit there unattended, instead of being intentionally buried and forgotten. That means it could pop up at random."
"What are you actually on about?" Taz rolled her eyes.
"Never you mind. It's private and personal. I'm an emotional mess. That's all you need to know. What should I wear tomorrow anyway?"
Taz helped herself to a coffee as she pretended to think about that.
"No underwear and plenty of cleavage. That always does the trick. That's what you told me."
"How often have I told you not to listen to me? I don't know anything. What I meant was, is he going to be wearing a suit or anything formal?"
The young woman's brow furrowed.
"Did he wear a suit when you went out with him?"
"Not that I can think of. He did wear a blazer at the bistro. That's almost formal. A bit casual formal. He didn't wear a tie though."
"There you go then. Don't wear a tie."
"Thanks a lot." The sarcasm flowed from her retort. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Taz chuckled.
"It's dinner time. You usually join us for dinner. It's going to be served shortly. Oh and Bella wants you to read her bedtime story tonight." Steph saw the light bulb go on in her friends head. "You're losing your shit because you're having dinner with John tomorrow aren't you?"
"NO." She'd said that far too quickly and loudly. "Just a little bit. I've got a lot on my mind."