Free The Same Deep Water by Lisa Swallow Page A

can’t fill; I’m frightened of becoming emotionally attached to Guy and a kiss or sex would be the first move toward that. What if I’d relented and kissed him, been swept up in the moment, and we’d continued the fantasy and spent the night together?
    Three more days and three more texts, nothing. My concern something serious could be wrong with Guy has retreated and is replaced by disappointment. I get the hint.
    His rejection pushes confusion and irritation into my days, and I look over my list. Should I plan one without him? But each item I consider feels like a betrayal to my pact with Guy.
    After three weeks of trying to contact him with no response, I take my list from the fridge and push the paper into a kitchen drawer so I don’t have to be reminded of him each time I open the fridge door. I will continue the list, with or without him.
     
    ****
     
    The opportunity to work on one of the items arises a week later; and I’m certain if it weren’t for the list, I’d never consider doing this.
    My morning visits to the cafe and Ross have multiplied to include post-work visits too. In a non-stalkerish way, I’m now aware he doesn’t work Tuesdays or Monday evenings. I still visit the cafe on those days, in case my growing interest in Ross becomes apparent to the rest of the staff if I miss those days.
    Hiding behind my laptop as usual, I pretend I’m working; but instead, research my own articles, ready for the day I crazily believe I’ll be allowed to publish one in Belle de Jour . The chair opposite me scrapes and somebody sits. I look up and straight into a pair of beautiful, brown eyes, with eyelashes I couldn’t achieve without ten layers of mascara.
    “Is it okay if I sit here?” Ross asks. He might have the chocolate eyes, but I’m the one melting here; I go from not being interested in men, to a desire for two in the space of a month.
    “Sure.”
    Ross sets his coffee cup on the table in front of him, slender fingers curled around. He wears the usual black work shirt with the cafe logo on and his dark hair contrasts his pale skin. I guess days in a coffee shop don’t allow for much time in the sun, or he could be a sensible skin cancer avoiding person.
    But those eyes.
    “Working?” he asks and sips his drink, ironically the smell of chocolate drifts to me.
    “Yes.”
    “What do you do? You must work near here because of the times you come in, and how you dress.” He indicates my blue silk blouse, indicating in the process, he’s the kind of man who can control the impulse to stare at women’s breasts.
    “ Belle de Jour . Trainee.”
    “And woman of few words,” he says and flashes straight, white teeth to match his other perfection. Jesus, I’m obsessed. And confused. Wasn’t I considering cosying up with a surfer a few weeks ago? No, Guy’s left the picture. I demonstrate the conversational skills of a three year old by not responding with anything at all.
    Bucket list.
    Do it.
    Ross sat here, didn’t he? That’s halfway.
    “Did you want to meet up some time?” I blurt.
    I cringe at the surprise in Ross’s otherwise cool expression. Crap, he’ll say no and I can’t even pretend I’m drunk.
    “Well, you saved me asking,” he replies.
    “Did I?” I shake my head. “God, I sound like an idiot.”
    “You’re sweet.”
    “Sweet?” I wrinkle my nose.
    “Don’t forget, I see you come in here every day. I’m a people watcher, which is why I love my job. I can tell a lot about how people behave when they’re in here. You, Phe, are sweet to people. The time you paid for the guy’s coffee who was a dollar short. Helping mums with prams out of the door when I know you’re running late? And impossibly polite. Sweet.”
    “Oh. Right.” The compliment doesn’t feel like one to me, but if he likes sweet girls, I’ll take it.
    “Where were you planning to take me?” he asks.
    “I hadn’t got that far.”
    “Good thing I had. Are you busy after work