The Things I Can't Do To You

Ten In The Morning

Amelia woke with her phone still in her hand. For several blissfully confusing seconds, she couldn't work out why sunlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains or why her neck ached. Then she looked at the clock.

10:03 a.m.

"Oh no."

She bolted upright, sending her phone tumbling onto the duvet. She had slept through every alarm. Normally she was awake before eight on a Saturday. Grocery shopping, laundry and cleaning usually occupied most of the morning before she rewarded herself with an afternoon of reading.

Today, her routine had completely deserted her. She reached for her phone. A smile appeared almost instantly. The final message from Jake still sat on the screen.

I have a feeling that's going to be my favourite message for a very long time.

She read it again. Then, despite having already done so at least half a dozen times before falling asleep, she smiled just as broadly. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Good morning.

No. That seemed ridiculous considering it was already after ten.

Morning.

No. Too casual.

Before she could overthink it any further, her phone buzzed

Jake:

Good morning.

Or perhaps good late morning.

I'm hoping you're still asleep and didn't stay awake until breakfast.

Amelia laughed aloud.

Amelia:

I'm afraid it's worse than that.

I only just woke up.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Jake:

I'm relieved.

Amelia:

Really?

Jake:

I was worried I'd kept you awake.

Amelia:

You did.

It was entirely worth it.

She pressed send before she could lose her nerve. Jake replied less than a minute later.

Jake:

I'm glad.

Although I suspect coffee is now essential.

Amelia climbed out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, still wearing an oversized university hoodie and fluffy socks. The bouquet sat proudly in the middle of the table. She stopped automatically. Every flower looked just as beautiful in the morning sunlight as it had the evening before. Without really thinking, she touched the petals of one of the white roses.

Her phone buzzed again.

Jake:

Can I ask you something?

Amelia:

Of course.

There was a longer pause this time. Long enough that she wondered if he had changed his mind.

Finally...

Jake:

Would you have breakfast with me?

Amelia stared at the screen. Her stomach performed an alarming somersault.

Breakfast. Not dinner. Not drinks. Breakfast. Somehow that felt even more intimate. She bit her lip.

Amelia:

Today?

Jake:

Only if you'd like to.

If you're busy, another day is absolutely fine.

She glanced around her spotless flat. Laundry could wait. The supermarket would still exist tomorrow. Every sensible excuse disappeared before it had fully formed.

Amelia:

I would like that.

Very much.

Jake's reply came almost instantly.

Jake:

There's a little café in the Jewellery Quarter called Rose & Rye.

Do you know it?

Amelia smiled. She'd walked past it dozens of times, always meaning to go inside and never quite getting around to it.

Amelia:

I do.

Jake:

Eleven?

She looked at the microwave clock. That gave her less than an hour.

Amelia:

I'll be there.

The moment she sent the message she looked down at herself.

"Oh."

She hurried towards the bedroom. Half her wardrobe ended up scattered across the bed. Everything was either too formal, too casual, too much like she was trying or too much like she wasn't. Eventually she settled on a soft blue floral dress with a light denim jacket and white trainers.

Simple and comfortable. Hopefully somewhere between effortless and presentable. She stared at herself in the mirror.

"You are going for breakfast."

Not an interview. Not a wedding. Breakfast. Still... She spent slightly longer on her hair than usual.

Jake arrived twelve minutes early. He frowned at his watch. Apparently punctuality disappeared whenever Amelia Carter was involved.

Rose & Rye occupied the corner of a quiet street lined with independent shops. Fresh flowers overflowed from wooden planters outside while the scent of coffee drifted through the open doorway.

It suited her. Warm. Unpretentious. Comfortable. He had barely finished that thought when he saw her approaching across the street. She hadn't noticed him yet. She walked with the same quiet confidence she'd had leaving work the previous week, her attention focused on checking the sat nav on her phone even though she was almost at the café.

Then she looked up, their eyes met and her face lit up. Jake forgot every carefully rehearsed greeting. She smiled first.

"Hi."

"Hi."

They both laughed.

"What?" Amelia asked.

"I think we both expected something more impressive."

"I had an entire speech planned."

"So did I."

"What happened to yours?"

"You smiled."

She laughed again.

"I think mine suffered the same fate."

For a moment they simply stood looking at one another. It should have been awkward. Instead it felt strangely comfortable.

"You look lovely," Jake said.

A faint blush coloured Amelia's cheeks.

"Thank you."

She looked down briefly before meeting his eyes again.

"You look nice too."

Jake glanced at his navy jumper.

"I've never been complimented for knitwear before."

"I thought I'd broaden my horizons."

He held the café door open for her.

"Ladies first."

"Thank you."

The café buzzed with quiet conversation and the comforting clatter of crockery. A waitress greeted them with a smile before leading them towards a small table beside the window.

"This is nice," Amelia said.

"I hoped you'd like it."

"I already do."

Menus appeared, as if by magic but neither of them opened them immediately. Instead Amelia looked at him.

"I still can't believe you sent flowers."

"I was hoping that wouldn't be the first thing you said."

"Why?"

"I thought it might seem ridiculous."

"It was."

Jake's heart sank until she smiled.

"It was also one of the sweetest things anyone's ever done for me."

Relief washed through him.

"I'm glad."

"I've counted them."

"The flowers?"

"Eight."

"I wondered if you'd notice."

"I notice details."

"I've realised."

She tilted her head.

"So why eight?"

Jake hesitated.

"It had been eight days."

Amelia's expression softened.

"You counted."

"I did."

"So did I."

The waitress returned before either of them could say anything else. After ordering pancakes for Amelia and a full English for Jake, they settled back into conversation. It flowed with the same surprising ease it had through text messages.

Books. Travel. Embarrassing childhood stories. Favourite films. The conversation drifted effortlessly from one subject to another without either of them needing to force it.

At one point Amelia laughed so hard at one of Jake's stories about accidentally presenting architectural drawings upside down during an important meeting that coffee almost came out of her nose.

"I'm so sorry," she spluttered.

Jake grinned.

"There you go again."

"What?"

"Apologising."

She blinked.

"I did, didn't I?"

"You absolutely did."

She covered her face with both hands.

"I can't stop."

"You don't have to."

She looked at him through her fingers.

"I'm trying."

"I know."

Their breakfasts arrived and for several minutes conversation gave way to appreciative silence. Amelia tasted the pancakes.

"Oh."

Jake looked up.

"What?"

"These are incredible."

He smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"You've been here before."

"Once."

"With who?"

The question escaped before she could stop it. Her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry."

Jake laughed.

"You really can't help yourself."

"I genuinely can't."

"No one."

She frowned.

"No one?"

"I came alone."

"You go out for breakfast alone?"

"Occasionally."

"I thought I was unusual for reading in pubs."

"You probably still are."

She smiled.

"Fair point."

When they finished eating, neither of them made any move to leave. The waitress refilled their coffees without asking. Outside, shoppers wandered lazily between boutiques beneath a cloudless summer sky.

"I've got a confession," Amelia admitted.

Jake smiled.

"Another one?"

"I was nervous."

"About today?"

She nodded.

"I've had bad dates before."

His smile faded.

"I'm sorry."

"I kept wondering whether Friday had been a one-off."

"And?"

"And whether the version of you I'd imagined was better than the real one."

Jake leaned forwards slightly.

"What have you decided?"

She held his gaze.

"The real one's better."

Something inside Jake settled. Not dramatically. Quietly. Like a final piece finding its place. Kade was rumbling in his chest, content and still.

"So," he said.

"So."

"Would it be terribly forward of me to ask for a second date before the first one has officially finished?"

Amelia laughed.

"I was hoping you would."

"You were?"

"I've spent all morning pretending I wasn't."

Jake smiled.

"Good."

She tilted her head.

"What's your idea?"

He looked out of the café window towards the sunshine beyond.

"How do you feel about a walk?"

"Anywhere specific?"

"Not particularly."

She stood, slipping her jacket over her shoulders.

"I think I'd quite like that."

Jake rose to his feet. As they stepped out into the warm July morning, neither of them noticed the elderly woman enjoying her tea outside the neighbouring café. She watched them with a knowing smile.

"They've got that look," she murmured to her husband.

"What look?"

"The beginning."

Her husband glanced across at Jake and Amelia as they wandered slowly along the pavement, already deep in conversation. He smiled too.

"I think you might be right."

Neither Jake nor Amelia heard them. They were too busy discovering that sometimes the best first dates didn't need grand gestures at all. Sometimes all they needed was a Saturday morning, good coffee, and someone who already felt unexpectedly like home.