12. Hope Blooms
Clutching a bouquet of white roses as pure as they were symbolic Ben walked towards the entrance of the leisure centre. He hadn’t quite worked out the mechanics of his plan or how he would approach her but he knew as soon as he stepped inside it would come to him. As natural as a bird in flight... or so he thought. Alone in his thoughts he felt the first flutters of anxiety seeping into his stomach, the overwhelming sensation of panic intensified by his pounding heart. His terror increasing he felt his courage dwindling his body consumed by the ravishing effect of fear. He knew he had to fight this; he couldn’t let being scared of what might happen scare him off romance for life. If he did that he’d end up a lonely old man with ten cats. That version of a future to him was a fate worse then death. Finding a bench he sat down took several deep breaths and slowly regained his self-control.
Calm and placid he felt himself drifting his mind consumed with thoughts of Lola and the feeling of her breath playing off his neck. As he daydreamed his self-conscious revived thoughts of the past, corrupting his sense of mental conviction as it replayed moments of humiliation, embarrassment and pain. The images taunted him, reminded him of just how much a fool he was when it came to love, it was almost telling him to give up, give up or you’ll just inflict pain on yourself over and over again. The voice of his sub-conscious was strong but his heart was stronger. He knew what he wanted and he knew nothing would stop him getting it. If people just gave up after a little knock or break people lives would just be lying in tatters. No fighter gives up on his or her dream, not when it consumes them, gives them their sole reason for living and moving on. Ben was a fighter and he knew what he had to do. Picking up the flowers he smiled and stepped towards the centre, his panic all having disappeared.
“Lola… hi.” Ben grinned nervously, hiding the flowers behind his back.
Glancing up from a pile of paperwork Lola smiled breezily at Ben, her face vacant of any awkwardness. Even in the gaudy fluorescent lights her skin remained a creamy honey colour, seemingly devoid of any post-adolescent spots or scars. Her deep blue eyes set against a background of gold eye shadow had the magnitude of an ocean, its depths unending and soul immortal.
“Hi, how can I help you?” she said smoothly.
Stepping up to the counter Ben whisked the flowers out in front of him. “For you!” he grinned, his gaze as delightful as a puppy.
Her eyes flitted anxiously; she barely glanced at the flowers. Then in almost a favour to him she gazed at the flowers for a few seconds, her smile sad. The smile was hardly readable though and could easily be read as a frown. She’d planned it that way.
“Thank you Ben but why are you bringing me flowers?” she muttered, her voice questionable.
Inside him something dropped. His heart felt heavy like someone had just chained it to an anchor and threw it deep into a bottomless ocean. Her face was composed, cool, her mouth set in a dubious frown. It was like she didn’t even recognise him, that what happened last night didn’t happen at all, like he’d dreamed it all, right down to the last little detail – the near kiss.
“But… last night. What happened there, we almost…” “Almost what Ben?” she murmured, cutting in.
Set in a questionable expression her face dared him to say it, dare to admit to a near kiss that would almost certainly be denied by the other party concerned. Bewildered by the sudden turn of events Ben felt his gaze drift to her eyes, tried to search them frantically for an answer. He saw nothing, nothing but his own sorry reflection.
“Nothing. I guess. You’ve said everything you needed to say.” Ben said sadly.
Turning away from the desk he limped dejectedly towards the exit, throwing the beautiful, pure white roses in the bin. As that lost stare fell resignedly towards his feet Lola felt the worst person on the planet. How could she have done that to him when she knew perfectly well what had gone on last night, how near they had come to kissing. It felt so right then, it really did but she couldn’t have gone ahead with it because she had a reputation to uphold. That was the sorriest bit of truth that she had to admit to herself that her reputation meant far more to her then happiness, the chance of love. The only two bits who ever came close to kissing her were just that – two bits – with little personality and model looks to match. They never made her laugh, didn’t even really do it for her in the bedroom but the point was they looked the part and in this image conscious society that was the only thing that counts. Glancing around the empty foyer she felt her eyes settle on the bin, the roses sticking out awkwardly - a pitiful end for such pretty flowers. Feeling she owed it to him to at least preserve the amount of money he’d spent on those things she walked over, pulled them out of the bin and found a vase. Settling the flowers on the counter she went back to work, her mind dwelling on last nights events one time too many.