Passing Through

Part Eight

Chapter Eight

Six fifty-eight.

Bo sat in his ridiculously small car and watched the doorway of the cafe, waiting for Natasha to approach. He imagined she'd walk in front of him, but checked his rear view mirror regularly.
As the clock ticked by, he started to become anxious, wondering if she was going to stand him up. It had been a long time since that had happened. It was a long time since he'd felt so unsure of things. Maybe he needed to look around? Maybe she was watching him from a doorway. Was she nervous? Suddenly he really wanted to know that. Probably because he was nervous himself.

As he shut the car door, he heard a noise behind him, Natasha emerging from the cafe.

"You live here too?"

She walked up to him and he wasn't sure where to look, she was wearing her lustrous hair loose, and he loved the way it curled naturally down to her shoulders, her long legs were clad in what looked like wet look leggings, either that or leather, or maybe rubber....the thought that it could be any one of them making his blood warm and his body hard.

Her eyes, blue eyes, stared up at him, and he could tell that she was nervous. Which was good, as he definitely was nervous too. If his fluttering stomach was anything to go by.

"Hey." He offered.

She stopped in front of him and smiled up at him, "hey, back. You look good."

Those words stunned him, he was wearing his favourite jeans, worn, soft, but still smart and a plain shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. He had purposely not wanted to look like he was trying too hard, another factor that surprised him. But then he clearly didn't know himself at the moment.

Lifting an eyebrow, he gave a half smile, "that was just about to be my line."

She laughed at his discomfort, "men hate compliments...."

"....which is why you gave one?" He asked.

She smiled, "I wouldn't lie, but it has taken away a little of the anxiety on my part. Making you a little on edge."

"You're anxious?"

"I don't know you, that's a little scary. I don't do things like this...."

He watched as she bit her lip, obviously worried that she'd said too much, "me either."

With a sweep of his arm, he gestured to the car, and as he offered, "your chariot awaits," she glanced almost comically between his six foot five frame and the tiny car in front of them. Rolling his eyes, he activated the locks, "I've been given this, and I have to drive it. There is nothing you are thinking that I haven't said to myself, as recently as on the drive over."

Trying to hide her smirk, she moved to the passenger door, "so manual gears, other side of road, and no room in the car....this must make for a perfect drive."

Folding himself in to the vehicle very carefully, he replied with, "it's not my first choice....it wouldn't be my tenth. But that's the rules at the moment."

After a little silence, she directed him across to a livelier part of the city, filled with bars and restaurants, and broken dreams is how Steph described it, but she left the latter part off. It was cool there, some bars over looking the renovated canal, some boutique shops, restaurants in a two story plaza, but tucked away in a corner was the greatest Italian restaurant in town. The epitome of a hidden gem. Through her connections in the food world, she knew she'd get a table at short notice, even on a Friday evening without a reservation.