Raindrops And Roses
by Christiane France
by Christiane France
The day before Drew McEvoy is to fly home following a temporary work assignment in London, he trips going down the stairs to a teashop and is saved from injury by the quick thinking of Englishman, Michael Dawson. Michael sees Drew is a little shaken up by the incident, so he invites Drew to sit at his table to catch his breath and offers to buy him a cup of tea.
The chemistry is there from the word "go." Drew doesn’t know if it’s a momentary thing, or if it could turn into something more, and there’s not enough time for him to find out before he leaves. All he can do is hold onto the moment and stretch it out to the very last drop.
They leave the teashop and Michael surprises Drew by inviting him to have a drink at his flat, and then go somewhere for dinner. Drew knows the most they can have is a few hours together. This time tomorrow they’ll be thousands of miles apart. But there’s no point in him telling Michael that. After all, they’re just ships passing in the night, right?
…I don’t believe in insta-love or what some call love at first sight. But sometimes the chemistry between two people is so strong and so compelling it’s overwhelming. A time when normal commonsense takes a vacation and anything approaching rational thinking goes along with it for the ride.
For me, this was one of those times. And I knew he felt it, too. That’s why we continued to sit here, staring at one another like we were under a spell or something.
“Can I buy you a cup of tea?” he asked.
“Umm…” I tried to break eye contact and failed. I knew I was in trouble. If I had any sense, I’d make up an excuse and go, now, while I still had the chance. And do what? Wonder what if, wish I’d acted differently and then come back in the hope he was still here?
The waitress placed a pot of tea and a bowl of soup in front of Michael. “Your sandwich will be up in a minute,” she said before turning to me. “And what can I get for you, sir?”
“I…er…I don’t know. I…” I glanced around for inspiration, a menu, wishing I didn’t feel so unsure, so vulnerable, so completely unlike my normal self. I gripped the edge of the table in an effort to get my thoughts back on track. I don’t do flustered. I’m the calm, cool, collected type. The guy people turn to when things get out of hand and panic sets in.
“Bring him the same as what I’m having,” Michael interjected smoothly. “Thanks, Sara.”
The waitress left, and he reached under the table and laid a hand on my knee. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay.” I forced a grin. “Just a tad discombobulated, as they say.”
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