Part 4: link


    Lunch?
    Three minutes pass, then Gwen’s phone vibrates on her desk. Sorry, I have a lunch meeting today.
    Another one? Okay. She puts her phone down on her desk, trying not to slam it on the hard surface. There is a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that has been plaguing her since Sunday night, when Arthur chose to go accueil instead of staying another night.
    He’s allowed to sleep in his own bed. He’s paying rent on the place, he should spend some time there, she had told herself. Still, it’s not the fact that he went home, but he was just… weird. Closed off. Awkward. In the short time we’ve been together, we’ve never had an awkward moment. Just in the lift that first night. Until we kissed.
    “Gwen?” Merlin’s voice brings her back to reality.
    “Hmm?”
    “You all right?”
    “I don’t know. I think Arthur’s avoiding me.”
    “What makes toi say that?”
    “Because I haven’t seen him since Sunday night, and it’s already Wednesday!”
    “Another lunch meeting today, then?” Merlin raises an eyebrow.
    “So he claims,” Gwen shrugs.
    “He could at least be creative. Come up with fresh material.” Merlin shakes his head. “And what was it last night? His long-lost Great Aunt Myrtle came to town and wanted to take him to dinner?”
    “Said his father was having him and his sister over for a family dinner.”
    “Right. Does he even have a sister?”
    “Yes, I’ve seen her picture.”
    “Sure it wasn’t one that just came with the frame?”
    “Merlin!”
    “Sorry. I liked the guy when I met him, but if he’s jerking toi around, that doesn’t sit with me.”
    “Thank you, Merlin. If he would just talk to me, maybe I could figure out what’s going on. But I haven’t even run into him in the lift, which is very unusual.”
    “That is weird.”
    “Excuse me,” Gwen says suddenly, getting up and walking briskly to the ladies’ room. Merlin sighs. He couldn’t help but notice the glassiness of her eyes and the way her face crumpled and her voice shook before she took off.
    When she returns to her desk, Merlin is nowhere to be seen. Ten minutes later, her phone buzzes again, and she grabs it like she wishes to choke the life out of it.
    Roof. It’s from Merlin.
    Gwen trudges to the lift, pokes the highest button, and rides the short distance to the roof access.
    Merlin is waiting with a bag from McDonald’s but his face is grim. “Your boyfriend is stupid,” he declares.
    “Obviously, but what specifically brings on this assessment?” she asks, sitting on a ledge. He hands her a chicken sandwich, fries, and a Diet Coke. “Thank you.”
    “I just saw him at McDonald’s.”
    “What?” Gwen shouts, setting her nourriture down. “Did he see you?”
    “No, thankfully.”
    “Shitbag.”
    “Now, maybe his meeting was cancelled…” Merlin starts.
    “So now you’re defending him?”
    “No! But… he looked quite miserable, actually. I don’t think he would have seen me if I had walked right past him. He was eating, alone. Sort of.”
    “Sort of?”
    “Well, he was definitely alone. His Big Mac was halfway to his mouth, but it wasn’t getting any further. For like two minutes.”
    “Why doesn’t he talk to me if something is troubling him?” Gwen wonders. The reality of the situation, that they really haven’t known each other for very long, suddenly hits her. “He doesn’t know me well enough to trust me yet,” she whispers, reaching for a napkin to dab her eyes, still red from earlier.
    “I don’t think it’s that, Gwen. toi are a very easy person to like and trust,” Merlin says, wrapping his arm around her. “Most guys just tend to keep their emotions bottled up inside. I am unusual in that respect,” he grins at her.
    “Yes, Merlin, your emotions are generally clearly on your sleeve for all to see,” she says, taking a drink of her soda.
    Merlin puts his arm around her shoulders and hugs her to his side.
    She picks up her sandwich, "sandwich" and takes a small bite. “I think I’m going to go accueil after lunch,” she says.

xXx

    If you’re going to lie about a lunch meeting, at least have the brains to keep your sorry cul, ass in your office instead of going out where people can see you.
    Gwen presses send, tosses her phone on the canapé cushion and reaches for another salted caramel bar.

xXx

    “Merlin?” Arthur’s voice behind him makes Merlin jump out of his skin.
    “Well, you’ve got some nerve,” Merlin glares back at him.
    “I know. Um, where’s Guinevere?” he asks. Merlin can see the remorse, but he’s still mad at Arthur, so he decides to not be helpful.
    “She’s not here.”
    “I can see that. Where did she go? Please.”
    “Why should I tell you? So toi can make sure to not go there?”
    Arthur drops his head and looks to the side, glancing at Gwen’s tidy desk, noting how everything is just so, her piles of work are tidy, her pens and pencils in a little ceramic cup that looks as though it has been decorated par a child.
    “I need to talk to her. To see her. Explain myself,” Arthur says quietly.
    “She went home,” Merlin relents, turning back around, facing his bureau again.
    “Thank you, Merlin.”
    “Arthur?” Merlin says, not turning around.
    “Yes?”
    “Are toi going to break up with her?”
    “No. But now I’m worried that I may have just dug my own grave.”
    “You should be,” Merlin answers, not helping him at all.

xXx

    Gwen’s doorbell jolts her awake. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, strung out from crying and slightly overdosed on sugar. She sits up and looks around, blinking. Then the cloche, bell rings again, and she can hear a faint, “Guinevere?” from the other side of the door.
    She gets up, walks casually to the door, turns the knob just so the door drifts open six inches, and then walks away, back to the living room. She doesn’t look at him.
    She hears Arthur enter and close the door behind him quietly, hears him follow her path to the living room.
    He sits opposite her, on an upholstered chair, and looks at her.
    I’m sure I look like complete shit, and I don’t care. Let him see me at my worst. It’s his fault I look like this anyway. She watches him a moment, and it hits her that he doesn’t look much better. He looks like he hasn’t slept.
    “I’m sorry, Guinevere,” he finally says, his voice soft, pained.
    “That’s a good start,” she answers. He looks away.
    “What the hell, Arthur?” she finally says, exasperated. “If toi don’t want to see me anymore, at least have the balls to tell me straight!”
    “I… it’s not that. I do want to still see you,” he says, looking at his hands, elbows resting on his knees.
    “Then why did toi bail on Sunday like toi suddenly didn’t want to be here, like toi couldn’t stand being around me any longer? Why have toi been avoiding me all week?”
    Arthur still says nothing, continuing to look miserable and guilty.
    “If toi can’t even talk to me, Arthur, then this isn’t going to work. We aren’t going to work.”
    “I know,” he says, “it’s just hard for me.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I feel really dumb right now, and now that I see how upset I’ve made you… how many of these bars have toi eaten?” he asks, indicating the now half-empty pan on the table.
    “More than I should,” she says. “They’re melting a bit now, I should put them back in the fridge,” she adds, absently.
    “I’m confused and a little freaked out,” Arthur blurts suddenly.
    “Oh,” Gwen says. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What about?”
    “My feelings.”
    “You don’t know how toi feel?”
    “No, I know how I feel. I’m just…”
    “Confused and freaked out par it?”
    He nods. Then, closing his eyes, he whispers, “Truth.” He’s not sure exactly what she’ll ask, but at this point, he needs to give her the control, let her ask what she wants to know.
    “Why?” she asks.
    She would pick the hard question. “Because I’ve never felt like this about anyone ever before,” he quietly admits. “It’s like… when I’m not with toi I feel like someone has taken something from me. I… I’ve had other girlfriends in the past, obviously, but I’ve never felt the… intensity of feeling that toi seem to bring out.”
    Whoa. Gwen is speechless. Is he saying he loves me? Dare I ask? No. Don’t. Not until toi are certain as well.
    “Say something,” he whispers.
    “I suppose that can be confusing and scary,” she answers.
    “I dated this one girl for over a an and I never felt…”
    He never felt like her like he does about me, Gwen finishes mentally, nodding. “I know,” she whispers.
    “You do?” he asks, looking up suddenly.
    “I do. This week, when I didn’t see you… it sounds really stupid,” she stops, shaking her head.
    “No, please tell me,” he asks.
    “I felt… lost. And then when I began to think that toi were avoiding me, it was like someone was stepping on my chest.”
    “Oh, Guinevere, I’m so sorry about that,” he says, his voice pained, and finally he crosses to sit beside her on the couch. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He takes her hand in between his.
    “You were thinking that toi could sort your feelings out if toi stayed away from me,” she whispers
    He nods. “Didn’t work. I only ended up plus confused.”
    Gwen nods.
    “I do feel better now, actually,” he admits, but then he furrows his brow. “How about you? Can toi forgive me?”
    “I’ll take it under advisement,” she says, smiling a small smile.
    Arthur opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what to say, so he leans in and kisses her, softly but ardently, pouring his soul into her until she cannot even remember her own name.
    “Truth,” Gwen whispers when their lips part, gasping for air.
    “Do… do toi feel the same?” he asks, his eyes closed, as if he is afraid to see her reaction to the question.
    “The same…” she whispers still, “the same overwhelming, all-encompassing desire… no, need to be with you, the same bewildering feeling of abandonment when we are apart, the same sense of completeness, contentment… just rightness when we’re together? That same?”
    He nods, his face in her neck, his hands gripping her waist.
    “Yes. I do,” she answers, and she feels him breathe again, exhaling heavily against her. “And of course I forgive you,” she adds, running her fingers into his hair.
    Arthur’s phone rings and he slowly pulls away from her and pulls it from his pocket.
    “You really know how to ruin a moment, Dad,” he mutters, then swipes his finger across the screen.
    Gwen watches him, taken aback at the redness rimming his eyes.
    “Hello,” he answers.
    “No, I told Elana that I was gone for the day, didn’t she tell you?”
    “Yes, well she’s a complete flake, I definitely told her. I wasn’t feeling well.”
    “No. Honestly, I have no idea. I really wasn’t paying attention. Not feeling well, remember?”
    “Most likely. I just need some rest, I think. No, don’t send over any soup, I’ll be fine. Really. Thanks, Dad, ’bye.” He sets his phone to silent and places it on the table, tableau beside the pan. Then he reaches for a bar.
    “Whoa, these are really soft,” he says, quickly depositing the small square into his mouth before his hand becomes a mess of caramel and chocolate. Then he picks up the pan and takes it to the cuisine to put it back in the fridge.
    “Arthur?” Gwen calls after him. “What… what made toi come over?”
    “I got your text, obviously. Who saw me?”
    “Merlin.”
    “Ah. I was wondering if it was you.”
    “If I had seen toi there, toi would have known before now,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him as he sits at the end of the canapé and motions for her to come over into his arms.
    “So I’m fortunate that Merlin spotted me and not you,” he says, pulling her back against him, snuggling her into his chest.
    “Yes. But from what Merlin says, toi weren’t noticing much of anything during your lunch.”
    “I don’t even know if I finished it.”
    “What took toi so long?” she asks, turning her face to look up at him.
    “What?”
    “It was nearly two hours between my text and your appearance. I fell asleep, actually.”
    “Oh. I didn’t get the text right away because I was… wait for it… in a meeting.”
    Gwen actually laughs.
    “A real one, honest.”
    “Oh, is that what toi were talking about to your father when toi a dit toi weren’t paying attention?”
    “Yep. As soon as I saw your text, I ran upstairs to your office, but toi were gone.”
    “You did?”
    “Yes. And I must say that Merlin gave me rather a frosty reception. Wasn’t surprised then, even less surprised now, now that I know he was the one that caught me.”
    “That was pretty stupid,” she says, and he pokes her in the ribs. “Hey!”
    “Yeah, it was. Obviously wasn’t thinking clearly.”
    They sit quietly for a bit, Gwen cozy in Arthur’s embrace, staring at the television. It’s been on the whole time, on the nourriture Network, ignored.
    “I’ve seen this one,” Arthur says after a time. “Morimoto wins.”
    “Morimoto wins 98% of the time, Arthur. He’s scary good.”
    “Too bad it’s not Battle Avocado, though,” Arthur teases.
    “I would have to turn it off,” Gwen says, settling against him plus now, using him as her mattress, pillow, and teddy ours all in one.
    “I l’amour how toi feel cuddled against me,” he mutters into her hair.
    “You are very comfortable,” she says, smiling. “Arthur?”
    He looks down at her, running his hand along her arm, caressing from elbow to shoulder and back down again. “Truth,” he says, sensing a question coming.
    “What scared toi away on Sunday?”
    “It’s bizarre,” he warns.
    “Try me.”
    “Lance did.”
    “Lance?” she turns and looks up at him again, and he leans down and kisses her.
    “Yes. I didn’t like the way he was… leering at toi at the dîner Saturday night. He’s got it bad for you, and I know you’re not interested, but it still made me jealous. Unreasonably so, donné the short time we’ve been together. I wanted to walk around the table, tableau and coup de poing him, if for no other reason than to mess up his good-looking face a little.”
    “So your own jealousy made toi realize the, um, depth of feeling toi have for me, and toi freaked.”
    “I think so.”
    “That’s actually… kind of sweet, Arthur,” she says.
    “In a twisted kind of way.”
    She laughs, turning her face into his chest.
    “Can I stay tonight?” he asks.
    “Do toi really think toi need to ask?”
    “Well, after today, yes,” he admits. “I don’t have any clothes, though. For tomorrow.”
    “Hmm.” He should keep some emergency supplies here, Gwen finds herself thinking.
    “Tell toi what,” he says, tilting her face up, s’embrasser her nose. “I’ll take toi out to eat,” he kisses her forehead, “then we’ll stop at my place,” he kisses her cheek, “and I’ll grab some things,” he kisses her lips, “and then we can come back here,” he kisses her lips again, longer.
    “Or,” she pulls away, “we can go to your place,” she kisses his chin, “and toi can get your stuff,” she kisses his neck, “and then we can go to the market,” his neck again, “and then come back here and cook dinner,” she moves back to his lips, “and eat here,” kisses his lips again, “alone.”
    He captures her lips and squeezes her tightly, lingering over her, s’embrasser her softly.
    “I like the way toi think.”

Part 6: link