Strings Attached

Part 2.2: Love on the Line

Edmund's deep blues scanned every corner of her home, he was the type who liked to be sure about everything's whereabouts before relaxing. Belle gave him a quick tour, thankfully she cleaned up a few days before. She converted her home into a loft that had a mix of modern and rustic, the second floor was small with just storage for her yarn and clothes. Next to her bed, she had a wooden desk fitted with an antique lamp. On the first floor, she had a kitchen paired with an island. Her kitchen had a cosy rustic vibe, perfect for her old soul. There were a few more rooms on their tour and they landed back in the living room. Edmund sat on the edge of Belle's cosy sofa, his large, calloused hands awkwardly holding a crochet hook and a skein of soft,  blue yarn. Belle, sitting close beside him, leaned in, her delicate fingers guiding his through the initial stitches and chains. The room was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of vanilla from a nearby candle and the soft, ambient sound of rain starting against the window.

"Okay, so you start with a slipknot," Belle said softly, her voice gentle and encouraging. She demonstrated the motion, her hands moving with practised ease. "Then you chain four and join to form a ring. That's the alternative to making a magic ring."

Edmund tried to follow her instructions, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite his athletic prowess, the delicate movements required for crocheting were entirely foreign to him. He was starting to enjoy every part of it even more. Belle chuckled lightly as he fumbled with the yarn, her laughter like a melodic balm to his frustration.

"You're doing great," she reassured him, placing her hand over his to steady his movements. Her touch was warm, and Edmund felt his muscles relax. "Remember, it's all about patience and practice, I didn't be the way I am overnight."

As they continued, the initial awkwardness began to fade. Edmund managed to complete a few stitches, and Belle beamed with pride. They sat close, their shoulders brushing, and the atmosphere gradually shifted from instructional to intimate.

"So, why crochet?" Edmund asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked at Belle. "What made you fall in love with it?"

"It was my grandmother. She taught me when I was little. It started as a way to keep me occupied during summer breaks, but I quickly fell in love with the process. It's like creating something beautiful from nothing, one stitch at a time. There's something poetic about being able to undo it all with one pull." Belle's eyes sparkled as she spoke.

Edmund nodded, captivated not just by her words, but by the passion in her voice.

"I can see why you'd love it. There's something therapeutic about it."

"What about you? What drew you to tennis?" Belle smiled, her gaze meeting his.

Edmund leaned back slightly, considering his answer.

"I've always been competitive, and tennis just clicked for me. It's a way to push myself, to see how far I can go. Plus, there's a rhythm to it, almost like a dance. It's intense but also incredibly rewarding."

They continued talking, their conversation flowing naturally. They shared stories of their childhoods, their dreams, and their fears. Belle found herself drawn to Edmund's depth and vulnerability, qualities hidden beneath his stoic but friendly exterior. Edmund, in turn, was enchanted by Belle's warmth and creativity, her ability to find beauty in the simplest of things. As the evening wore on, the romantic tension between them grew palpable. Their conversations grew softer, their gazes lingered longer. Belle's hand occasionally brushed against Edmund's as she adjusted his grip or corrected his stitch, each touch sending sparks between them.

At one point, Belle reached to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, and Edmund couldn't help but notice the faint blush colouring her cheeks. She looked up, catching his intense gaze, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken feelings.