Cinnamon

I crossed the road quickly, and was waiting, heart thumping, as I heard her come down the stairs. The faint click of a lock and there she stood, beautiful in her jeans, loose maroon jersey, and almost fae red hair.

"Hello," we both managed.

"Come in," she added, "it's cold."

"It's getting there, yeah," I agreed, as I stepped past her into the cramped shared landing.

She closed and locked the door, then squeezed past me and led me upstairs.

"Wow, nice place," I said, as she closed and locked the door behind us.

Abstract paintings covered the walls, many simply square canvases of bright colour gradients with a predominance of greens and blues. "Anna is an extremely successful artist," she said, as she stepped into the open-plan kitchen. "This flat is hers, but I share the rent so she has extra free cash for her hectic social life." She smiled to herself.

"Do I meet this fabled Anna?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid, she's had to go to Seville."

"What a hardship."

"I know, right?" Natalie exclaimed. "How unfair! She should get danger pay!"

We laughed, and I set the wine bottle down. "I hope this is an adequate offering."

"Oh, I like that one," she said, digging in a drawer. "Here. Make yourself useful," she added as she handed me a bottle opener.

"Glasses are..."

"Left of the stove," she answered, as she turned to rummage in the fridge. "Just checking... you're not Italian, are you?"

"Uh. Nope. As British as bangers and mash. Why?"

"Thank God," she mumbled, "I'm making pasta and I'd die of shame if I served you something against your religion."

"You could probably feed me raw bread dough and I'd eat it, you know," I said, as I poured us each a glass of red.

"Oh?"

"I came for the company, not for the food."

"... Oh."

"Here," I said, handing her her glass after a moment of moderately awkward silence. "Thank you for the invitation."

"I felt I owed you something more than babbled repetitive thanks."

"You hugged me," I said softly. "That alone was more than enough for me."

She glanced aside, blushing. "That was incredibly impulsive of me. I'm not usually touchy feely with people I've barely met. Please forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you," I said, sipping my wine. "So. Tell me what I can do to help. I love cooking, but Marco does most of it at work, so I don't get to play much."

"Are you any good at chopping onions?"

"I mastered it years ago," I answered.

She handed me a knife and a bamboo chopping block, and I got to work.

It felt natural to be working next to her. We stepped neatly around one another, and as I finished each task she had another ready for me to go, which she'd bestow imperiously, the lie given by the flush of her cheeks and the mischievous twinkling in her eyes. I chopped onions, small red chillis, garlic and fresh basil leaves for her, and she took my offerings and added them to a pot on the small gas stove.

"It's going to be very simple, I'm afraid," she apologised.

"I don't care," I replied. "I'm getting a free meal out of it, I'd be daft to complain." I glanced at her, saw the smile, and pushed my luck. "Plus, I hear the chef is highly regarded."

"Highly regarded? Me?"

"Very highly regarded."

"Are you flirting with me, Eddie?"

"Maybe a little bit..." I said. "But I'll stop if you'd prefer."

"No. No. Please... don't stop," she said, turning around to look directly at me. "I'm... really not very good at this. I'm feeling... really out of my depth. So any clues you're willing to send my way would be gratefully appreciated."

"Natalie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're doing great."

"Oh. Ok. Well... supper is going to be pasta with some sort of Arrabiata sauce. I hope that's ok."

"It sounds marvellous."

Suddenly she stopped. "I know what's missing. Hang on."

She picked up her phone, fiddled with it, and the flat filled with the soft, rich tones of classical music.

"Oh..." I said. "That is nice."

She grinned. "I forgot my soundtrack. I'm a fish out of water without it, sometimes."

"I find that hard to believe. You're always so calm and collected when we see you at the cafe."

"I fake it well," she said with a smile. "My diary helps. But throw me into a new situation," she continued, gesturing with her wineglass to include us and the kitchen, "and I'm lost."

"Mm. Well, I'll behave then."

"I doubt that," she said, eyes twinkling.

I tried not to spend my time watching her. I tried to not be a jarring incursion on what was obviously quite a personal space for her and her roommate. I'd like to think I succeeded, somewhat. But it was impossible not to watch her, or make eye contact with her as we talked about the minutiae of our lives and set places for us at her small two-seater table.

She lit a some candles and dimmed the lights slightly, while I topped up our wineglasses. She dished up for us, and we sat.

"Well... welcome. I hope you like it," she said.

.:.

"I've got three sessions tomorrow in the city," she sighed, as I pulled on my jersey and checked I had my keys, wallet and phone.

"Any near the cafe?"

"One."

"You should stop by if you have time."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Please stop by," I said, meeting her gaze.

"Why?" she breathed.

"Because it would make me happy to see you."

"Mm. I'll think about it."

"Tease."

"Moi?"

"Tu."

"Maybe. Thank you for tonight, Eddie."

"No, thank you. It was really nice. I enjoyed it."

"Can I..."

"What?"

"Can I have another hug?" she asked, softly.

I reached out and pulled her to me. And again, I felt the sigh as she stood on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around me to hold herself against me. She wore a subtle perfume, neroli oil or something similar, and each breath I inhaled made my heart pound even harder. I tucked my face into her hair, luxuriating in the scent of her, trying to fix this moment in my mind.

"You ok?" I breathed after a while.

She nodded, but didn't answer.

I held her for some time, but then finally, regretfully, let her go. She gave me a lopsided smile. "Thanks."

I turned slightly and undid the latch on her door, and then stepped outside. "Crap, it's cold."

"Here," she said, pulling a multicoloured scarf off a hook. She reached up and wrapped it round my neck. "It's a bit girly, but it will keep you warm."

I laughed. "I don't care, it was given to me by a hot girl."

"Now who's the tease?"

"Well... goodnight, Natalie. It was really nice to get to spend some quality time with you."

"Travel safe home, you. See you tomorrow. Mwa," she added, blowing me a kiss. I blushed, waved, waited for her to close and lock the door, and then set off towards the Underground station.

The ride home to Clapham was slow; lots of city folk heading south after their after-work socialising. I sat, leaning back against the grimy seat, running her scarf through my fingers while I thought about her and about how off-balance she made me feel.

.:.

I'd been in several relationships both at school and after it. I was a reasonably-good-looking guy, and I guess people found me likeable enough to want to spend time with or around me.

But I couldn't remember ever feeling this sense of breathlessness due to someone else's proximity.

Natalie did my head in. Everything about her - her hair, her eyes, the slight huskiness of her voice, the way she had of staring at me through her fringe and smiling this tiny little smile... everything. She made me feel playful even by my normally extroverted standards. She made me want to flirt with her, just to hear that laugh. Oh god, that laugh. And that figure! She was beautiful. Not a supermodel, not a wax or porcelain doll, not a frilly little poppet from a Rococo painting... but truly, truly beautiful.

I flushed. I'd spent way too much time watching her move; admiring the shape of those breasts and hips and bum, trying so hard not to be obvious about how attracted to her I was. I was pretty sure she'd caught me, once. But she hadn't said anything - just smiled, the slightest arching of an eyebrow giving voice to the "Gotcha" she'd no doubt been thinking.

I was smitten. Done for. Completely and utterly fucked. I wanted her, desperately, and I really hoped that the signals I'd thought she'd been sending had been actual ones and not just my own desperate longing.

I climbed up out of the Underground and set off south towards home. It was late, the housemates would either all be asleep or out getting shitfaced, and I looked forward to a little bit of down time in front of the X-Box. The short walk in the cold air cleared the wine fumes out of my head, but did nothing to calm the butterflies.

My phone buzzed as I closed the door behind me. I fumbled on the hall light, then hung my jacket and Natalie's scarf up before digging the phone out of my pocket.

I smiled. An - I hope you got home safely - from Natalie.

- Just got home. Nobody else here, time to recharge for tomorrow. -

- We can be home alone together - she replied after a moment.

- Sounds great. What are we watching? -

- We are watching Grey's Anatomy and yes I am a cliché -

I snorted. - At least it's not Game of Thrones -

- The books were better. More narrative, less full frontal nudity. -

I kicked off my shoes and lay down on the couch. - I never got past the first book. Prefer Robin Hobb myself. -

- Jinx - came her response.

I stared up at the cracked ceiling, thinking of the questions I wanted to ask her. But her next message arrived before I'd settled on a safe one.

- It's lonely here. I can hear people having parties in next door flats. I should put on 'All by myself' and pretend to be Bridget Jones -

- Try not to hit your head again when you do the vodka-collapse -

- You think you are funny, but you're actually funny's cousin... Not funny -

I laughed. - Terrible joke, £50 fine -

- Oh, so it's forfeits now is it? - came her reply.

- Forfeits are more fun in person -

- Promises promises -

I looked at the message, and took a deep breath. Then I dialled her number and waited.

Ring. Ring. Click.

"Oh hello." She sounded amused.

"My fingers were getting sore," I said, deadpan.

"Sad, so sad."

"Sad sad situation," I agreed, stretching out on the couch. "It's frightfully dull here with no housemates."

"Ditto. Anna is a force of nature, I generally don't get through an evening without wetting myself from laughter."

"She sounds nice."

"She is. She's really more like my adoptive big sister."

"Her art is beautiful. Really good at setting a mood."

"Those are her practice works. She paints over them every so often. Up until about three months ago the flat was autumn colours."

"Sounds nice."

"It is. It's like living in a forest." I heard her sigh.

"You ok, Natalie?"

"Yeah... just, stuff and stuff. You know."

"Need to talk to someone?"

"I am." I heard the soft laughter.

"I guess that was a silly thing to say," I muttered.

"You're forgiven. I just have lots going on in my head, so... sometimes it's nice to just get out of it for a while. Thank you for doing that for me tonight."

"I really enjoyed spending time with you."

"Ditto. You're good company. No complexities."

"I am a three word a page book."

She laughed. "No, but... I get the feeling that you are what you seem to be."

"And that is?"

"A decent guy."

"I try," I said. "Don't always manage, but life tends to dish things back to you in threes, so I try not to draw any notice from karma."

"Well I reckon you're due some good vibes for dealing with this dumb tart who managed to get herself mugged."

"You're no tart. I grew up around tarts, I know their type, and missy, you ain't one of them," I drawled.

"You grew up around tarts?"

"Well... singular. My sister was a bit... well, lets just say she was looking for Mr Right Now."

I heard her laughing. "That sounds amusing."

"Yeah. She's better these days, I think she's settled down."

"What did your parents say?"

"Well, dad was already gone by then and mum... well, mum had enough on the go keeping us all going so..."

"I'm sorry," she said, after a moment. "I didn't know."

"How would you?" I answered gently. "I never told you."

A moment of silence, then I heard her take a breath.

"If you were here I'd give you a hug."

I smiled. "I'd accept it gladly. Your hugs are amazing."

"So are yours. I don't get many, so yours are extra special."

"It's because you run around in camouflage. Nobody sees you coming or going, so how's anyone going to get a hug in?"

"I don't run around in camouflage. Just body armour. It accentuates the figure, donchaknow."

"Oh, really? I didn't notice," I said, trying to sound as lecherous as possible. It worked, and she laughed once more.

"You have a lovely voice," she said, once she'd caught her breath. "Warm and mellow and gentle, just like you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."

"Promises, promises."

"So are you really watching Greys Anatomy?"

"Couldn't work up the enthusiasm," she said. "Honestly, I'm still sore, so I'm going to go bath then sleep."

"Well, thanks for the lovely chat."

"And you. Sleep well, Eddie."

"And you, Natalie. Sweet dreams."

"After tonight, they will be."

Click.

I lay for a long while, staring at the ceiling, her last words to me chasing themselves around in my head.

.:.

The next morning started slowly. I stared with distaste at the litter and vomit on the pavement outside the cafe - clearly it had been a busy night at the pub on the corner. Marco arrived as I was hosing down our section of pavement; he headed straight inside to draw off an espresso for himself. I grinned to myself, Marco wasn't human until he'd had his coffee.

We put out the board and raised the shutters. One or two of the dawn patrol stopped in, and Marco served them their breakfasts while I set additional tables for the expected mid morning rush. I broke out supplies from the store room and freezer, and ensured the counter was fully stocked with sugar, paper cups and other necessary paraphernalia.

Then I simply waited. Waited for the orders, pushed them out as efficiently and correctly as I could, all the while waiting, waiting for that flash of amber-red hair above a pair of sea-blue eyes.

It was midmorning when she finally arrived; we'd had a solid run on bacon and egg and I was sweating slightly from the heat inside the cafe. I stepped outside for a moment of fresh air, and stood under our awning, shielded from the slight drizzle as I watched the foot traffic down the main road.

Two arms were suddenly around my chest, and I caught a whiff of neroli.

"Hello," she said, holding herself against my back. "I caught you."

I laughed helplessly. "You are sneaky these days."

"Mm," she agreed. "Cloak of Stealth."

I gently turned around and returned the hug. "Good morning. It's great to see you."

"Ditto. Sets up my day nicely," she added, smiling up at me. "I like starting with a positive."

"This is the best positive I've had in a while," I agreed.

She squeezed me, then let go. "I'm hungry," she announced. "What's good?"

"Everything," I replied, candidly. "But tell Marco what you'd like, and I'm sure he'd make it for you."

She settled for some fried eggs and sourdough toast, and I set up a chair for her at the countertop so we could talk while I helped other customers. She didn't impose or get in the way, merely sat, watching me with a slight smile as I worked, and we talked about small things - how the coffee machine worked, how she'd got into tutoring, whether a bun with bacon in it was a bap or a bun or a roll. And all the while I was intoxicated by her presence and the knowledge that she was spending her precious free time with me.

It ended far too soon. She looked down at her phone, made a face, and put down her cup. "Have to go butter my bread," she apologised.

"I'll miss you," I said, pouting.

She gave me an amused look as she collected her things. "How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," I demurred.

"Eddie... please," she said. "I want to pay."

"All right then, four pounds sixty pee, but you're going to have to let me make it up for you sometime then."

"I'm free tonight..." she offered, as she put down a fiver.

I rang her coffee and breakfast up, then handed her her change. "Same time, same place?"

"It's a date," she said, as she placed the coins into the Great Ormond Street donation box. "Bring another bottle of that delicious wine, please."

"Deal. See you later, Natalie."

"Where's my hug?" she said, softly.

I stepped around the counter and pulled her to me, enjoying the way she pressed herself against me and buried her face in my chest.

"I could grow used to this, you know," I breathed into her ear.

"Ditto," she said. She clung a moment longer, then released me. "See you later, Eddie."

"See ya," I said. She turned and waved at Marco, and I followed her to the door, leaning against the frame as I watched her flounce off southwards towards the square mile.

"Shut up," I said, as I returned to the counter.

"You like her. It's clear as sunshine," Marco said, as he wiped down the pass. "She is gentle. Bella. Don't hurt her."

"You know, me, Marco."

"Si. I know you're a good boy, Edoardo. But that girl...she reminds me of my sister. So I will fucking kill you if you aren't good to her."

"You'll have to get in line, Marco. I'd die first."

He snorted and turned back to the stoves.

.:.

She opened the door, and my heart skipped a beat. She was wearing a tight grey woollen top through which the supporting line of her bra showed clear as day, and a tartan miniskirt over black leggings. Her hair flashed like fire in the backlighting of the passage light, and I felt completely tongue-tied as she reached up to claim her hug.

"Hello," I managed. "You look nice."

"Thank you," she said as she released me. "I wasn't sure whether you'd like it."

"So it's for me, then?"

"It is." She took my hand and pulled me inside, then closed the door behind me. "Come on, it's cold out here." She towed me upstairs, her fingers cool in mine, and then fumbled the flat door shut behind us. Soft New Orleans blues formed the evening soundtrack, and the lights had been turned down to a warm orange.

"I brought the wine," I said, rescuing it from the Tesco bag.

"Best you open it then," she said, smiling over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "Hope you feel like pasta again."

"I'm practically Italian by palate," I said, as I grabbed two wine glasses and filled them for us. "Marco laughs at British cuisine and while he does some amazing bacon, he says he's only happy when it's pancetta."

"How long has he been your chef?"

"Since dinosaurs roamed the earth. He's worked for my uncle forever. He taught me how to wash up properly and from there taught me how to make proper coffee and to do prep work in a kitchen."

"It's nice that you like cooking," she said. "I like watching you work. You smile a lot while you're doing it."

"I think that's largely because of the company," I said as I handed her her wine. "You make me smile."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, ditto," she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. I leaned back against the countertop, watching her as she sliced portobello mushrooms and thoroughly enjoying the view. "Do you need any help?" I asked, after a moment.

"Nah, all sorted for now. Stay there and entertain me."

"Ah, so I'm the entertainment. Righto."

She grinned. "You're good at it. Don't disappoint the audience."

"Have you managed to catch up on your work?"

"Yeah," she said, brushing her hair aside and tucking it behind her ear. "Managed to reschedule my more important customers and, thankfully, the rest of them were so horrified about what happened they didn't complain at all. I got some loot out of it too, one of them sent me those flowers," she added, nodding to an arrangement by the window. "Sweet, but that particular client is a bit touchy feely and would probably try to jump me given the opportunity."