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When he arrived, she was already there. Javier observed her quietly, although Manola was more insistent to meet Colt. He finally crossed the street, hurrying towards her. He leaned against the wall next to her. Manola sat primly in front of Colt. “Hey,” he said, flashing her a bright grin. He took a step away from her, holding out his hand for her to take. “If you haven't already eaten, I know this restaurant where we could eat outside. Saves us the trouble of making dinner.”
Sure, he could make it sound very practicable, but the truth was simple. His mother had enforced in him the importance of taking a lady to dinner. Which probably didn't align very well with most twenty-first womens' feminism, but Javier decided to humor his mother. “If you don't mind,” he added, smiling a little awkwardly.
When Kate saw him, she first observed the dog. It was cute, tiny, like a little ball of fluff. She then moved on to the dog's owner, meeting his eyes and smiling at him. Colt's tail started wagging when he saw the other dog, and as they approached, Kate paused her demo and put away her iPod.
"Hey," she replied. When he pushed off the wall, and offered her his hand, she eyed it cautiously. Was she supposed to shake it, or hold it, or...?
He mentioned dinner, an idea which made her think a bit more that maybe this whole thing was a date. She agreed with him on one front: dinner did sound good. But she wasn't so sure outside would be good, considering how chilly she'd begun to feel.
She considered it, then decided to be bold. She took the hand he'd offered her, and smiled at him. "Or," she said. "We could swing by the grocery store, get some stuff, and I could make you my famous chicken Parmesan?"
She prided herself on a few things. Firstly, her music. Secondly, her family. And thirdly, the one complex dish she could make, chicken Parmesan.
Colt sniffed the dog, before licking her nose. Kate bent down to pet the dog, too, taking back her hand to let the dog sniff it, before scratching behind her ears, smiling up at Javier.
Javier's hand faltered in the air momentarily. He glanced down at the dogs to make things less awkward. Just as he was debating putting his arm down, she grasped his hand. He smiled encouragingly at her. She didn't seem very keen on the outside suggestion, however. Javier tilted his head questioningly, before realizing that she hadn't dressed for typical London weather. Which he couldn't blame her – the day's heat had been extremely fooling.
“Here,” he said, pulling off his jacket. “It was chilly when I came into work,” he explained sheepishly, handing it to her. He had left his scarf at the clinic, and he looked backwards, wondering if he should go get it for her. After all, he was going to take her for a walk, and if she wasn't warm then she would be miserable.
“Famous chicken Parmesan?” he repeated, smiling. “That sounds much better than going out to eat. The only thing that I can make Paella,” he said. “But you would be hard-pressed to find a Spaniard who can't make it.”
He knelt down as well, rubbing Colt's back. Manola pressed her head into Kate's hand, wagging her tail. “They seem to be getting along,” Javier observed. He straightened, and left his hand at his side, unsure whether he should offer it again. After all, she had seemed hesitant to grab it. “Shall we continue?” he asked politely.
She saw him begin to slip off his jacket, and protested, saying he didn't need to do that, but he pressed the jacket into her hand, and she smiled. "Thanks," she said, slipping it around her shoulders. The jacket was too big for her, but kept her marvelously warm, and dear god it smelled good.
When he agreed to dinner at her house, she smiled. "Paella, huh?" she asked. "Well, you'll have to make it for me some time. It sounds delicious."
Manola seemed to like being pet, pushing her head further against Kate's hand, and she smiled, rubbing just a little harder. Javier bent down to join her, petting Colt, and then mentioned how their dogs seemed to get along so well. She smiled her agreement.
When he stood, she looked up at him, and stood also. "Lets," she smiled.
As they walked down to the grocery store on the corner, she debated taking his hand again. When had she begun to analyze things like this? She made a deal with herself. The color of the next car she saw would determine what she did. Blue for yes, red for no.
The next car she saw was blue. She was walking close next to him as it was, and it was easy to twine her fingers with his, and easy for him to pull away if he didn't want to.
Javier looked at her, a smile pushing up on his lips. “You think it sounds delicious?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. “Most of the people I meet wouldn't try it if their life depended it.” His mother would love her. She made paella for all occasions; along with churros, although he was far from complaining about the churros. “My dad used to make it with duck meat,” he said, shaking his head as he remembered being a child who happened to love ducks. “And snails. Have you ever tried snails? I don't recommend it,” he said. He tapered off, realizing that he was rambling a tad bit too much.
It wasn't that he was nervous – except, you know, it was definitely that he was nervous. He cleared his throat, prepared to make small talk about anything and everything. He was distracted when she took his hand and intertwined their fingers. He blinked, a small blush creeping on his face. He looked back at his shoes, smiling widely. He squeezed her hand gently.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said, holding the leash loosely in his other hand. Manola was walking beside Colt, content to have a fellow canine friend.
She smiled when he raised his eyebrows. "I'm always open to trying new things. I actually quite like foreign foods." Then he inquired about snails, and she shook her head. "I've never tried 'em, and I don't much plan on it. I know it's kinda silly to say I won't try 'em cause they sound yucky, but it's true. I'll try almost anything," she said. "But I draw the line at snails."
He began to ramble a bit, and it was kind of adorable. He was nervous, which was also adorable, and she couldn't help it, it made her smile. He only seemed to get more nervous when she took his hand, and that, in turn, made her nervous. But the. He squeezed her hand, a reassuring gesture, and she calmed down just a bit.
This time when he spoke, he inquired about her life. She let out a breath. "Now that," she said, quietly. "Is a big story." And it was. It was a big mess of things, a jumble of emotions and things that had happened that she continued to wish hadn't. But if he wanted to know, she'd tell him. She didn't want to keep things like this from him, or anyone, and now was a good time to start.
He chuckled. “That's good. I like foreign foods as well,” Javier replied, then nudged her gently with his shoulder. “Although, sometimes I eat here and I wonder if the majority of you Brits have any tastebuds,” he teased, smiling widely. “I've gotten used to it now.” He licked his lips, trying to keep his mouth shut a little so he could save face and stop rambling. It worked for a few moments, and then he took a breath, prepared to launch into a full-on ramble about snails. Because really, how could he stop himself? He was a chatterbox, and they were talking about something he knew.
“It's not the taste that's disgusting when you eat snails,” he informed her with a nod. “In fact, they are a lot like tofu. They absorb the flavor. But what I found disgusting was the texture. It was...” he crinkled his nose, deciding not to tell her that it reminded him of human flesh when she was about to invite him to her apartment for food. “Gross,” he finished lamely. “But I like to try everything at least once.”
He trailed off as she told him it was a long story. Javier looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowed a little. He stepped a little closer. “Don't worry about telling me if you aren't comfortable,” he said.
She laughed when he nudged her, nudging back just slightly. He continued his little ramble on snails, and she was still smiling. "Well," she said, after he'd deemed them 'gross', "Im gonna take your word for that, and sit that one out."
Then he got concerned, when she mentioned how it was a big story. They stopped by the grocery story, picked up what they needed, and began the walk back, as she began to talk.
"If I left out everything that was something to feel uncomfortable about, people would be left with my name and the year I was born," she said, only half teasing, then shrugged. "Sometimes when you talk to people, you can tell right away how much is a good idea to tell them. And you, my friend, have rated high on that scale." She trailed off with a laugh.
Now, she took a deep breath and let it out. "My mom died when I was six," she began, watching the sidewalk as they walked. "We were on our way to some... Event. This guy... Just sort of barreled through the stop light. Hit her right on the drivers side. Practically took the whole front of the car off. I was in the back seat, and... Well, I just got a few cuts and bruises."
She looked over at him for a moment, just so he knew this wasn't too uncomfortable for her. "My dad took it pretty hard. He didn't know what to do without her, I mean... They'd been dating since high school, and he just... Felt lost. He did well for a few years," she acknowledged, with a nod. "Then he sorta fell apart. We were in trouble financially, and he wasn't sure what he was doing... All the things my mom used to do, like pay the bills... They were just sorta piling up."
She turned her gaze back to the sidewalk. "When I was fifteen, my brother got involved in the wrong crowds. Drinking, smoking, things like that. He... Well, he ran away, really. Dad took that hard, too. Somehow, decided that it was my fault, both Max leaving and mom dying. Started drinking. He kinda got... Not so good towards me, on alcohol."
She sighed, then gave his hand a light squeeze, looking at him with a smile. "But, then I moved here, with a friend. Things got better. She got married. I got the apartment and Colt, and... Voila. Here I am."
Everything but her name and age? Javier looked at her carefully, because it didn't sound as though she were joking. He smiled when she told him he was trustworthy. It was something he was used to hearing – especially from colleagues and clients. Working with animals tended to weed out most of the bad and impatient people. Still, it was more of a compliment from her than any other time he'd heard it. “Thank you,” he said, although it seemed a little unnecessary.
He couldn't imagine anything like that happening to him. Javier frowned. If his mother had died, how would he have turned out? He certainly wouldn't be a vet. He wouldn't know how to make paella, and he would still be in Barcelona. He gripped her hand a little tighter, unsure what he needed to say or what she needed to hear. The bills, and her brother, and then, finally, her father's drinking and abuse. He swallowed thickly.
“It isn't your fault,” Javi said, smiling at her. “You know that, but... I just wanted to tell you.”
Javier was quiet for another moment, trying to get his thoughts together again. “I'm glad you're here with Colt. And I'm glad that things got better. Are you happy?”
She was always afraid when she told people that. She never knew how they'd react. Would they care? Would they deem her broken, and unworthy of their time?
Not Javier, at least. He smiled at her, and it was like all her worries melted away. He repeated the words she'd heard a thousand times, but somehow, he made them sound true.
"I know," she said, quietly. "Thank you."
He asked if she was happy next, and she didn't even have to consider her answer. "I am," she said. "I love it here. I'm happier than I've ever been." She left out the part about how he made her happy, too, figuring it wasn't the time or place, and frankly a little soon.
“That's good,” he responded, smiling down at her. “A change of pace and a dog can do wonders for happiness.” He looked back up at the streets. London had been a huge change of pace for him; although Barcelona was by no means a small city, he had grown up there. He knew every nook and cranny by his eleventh birthday. London had been intimidating to him, and it still was.
Javier looked back up at her. “I don't really have a story. I grew up in Barcelona. I went to a Catholic school. I speak Catalan, too. I decided to become a vet because I saw my cat die, and the nuns at my school told me it was in God's plan.” He nudged her and shook his head a bit. “Honestly, can you imagine telling a ten year old boy that God meant to kill his kitty? Those nuns have as much tact as a brick wall.”
He shrugged to himself. “Anyway, I went to medical school and became a vet. The branch in Barcelona decided to move to the London division,” he explained, “so, I moved here. I've only been here a few months.”
"A change of pace and a dog can do wonders for happiness."
"It did for me," she smiled. She squeezed his hand a bit, as a thanks for listening to her story. Not many people were willing to do that.
Then he told her his, about Spain, and Catholic school, and how the nuns had told him his kitty dying was God's plan. She looked at him with a frown and wide eyes. "What?!" she asked, incredulously. "Who would do that to a ten year old?" She stroked the side of his hand gently with her thumb. "For the record, I think you'd be a good cat owner."
He continued to tell her how he'd gotten to be a vet, and she couldn't help but smile. "So you're new to London?" she asked. "I've been here five months, and I still haven't gotten the hang of it yet."
Javier chuckled at her outrage regarding his childhood. “What did you expect?” he asked, smiling half-heartedly. “They're nuns.” He continued down the street, glancing down at their intertwined hands and the dogs. “It was my fault, to be fair. I was late for school, and I kept the door open for too long. She got out, and the neighborhood stray got her.” He shrugged it off. “I appreciate it though. I doubt I'd be a vet without that dog or the nuns.”
He returned the gesture, squeezing her hand gently. “Thank you,” he replied. Maybe he would be a good cat owner. He had shied away from them after that incident. It was foolish, but once bitten twice shy. Manola was enough to keep him happy for now, although every happy home needs a little feline. “I think you'd be good with cats, too.”
“We can learn it together?” he suggested. “The only places in London I know so far are the grocery stops and the dog parks.”
"Well," she said, after hearing his explanation. "I think you're wrong." She stopped in front of her apartment door, fishing in her pocket for her keys. "I think it could've happened to anyone."
She retrieved her keys, and slid them into the keyhole. He offered for them to learn the area together, and she smiled, turning the key and pushing the door in. "I'd like that," she told him. "I'd like that a lot."
She hesitated, a bit lost in his eyes, and Colt decided to take the initiative, pushing forward into his home. Kate laughed, and followed him in, leaning down to unclip his leash. He shook himself when he was free, and jumped up on the sofa, turning in a few circles before settling down happily. Kate set the bags down in the kitchen, looking at him over his shoulder. "Well, this is where Colt and I spend the majority of our time. Well," she paused, considering it. "The viewable part, anyhow." She laughed. Her studio was a small bit of a mess, covered in papers with lyrics and chord progressions. She'd been writing a lot lately, and she was beginning to realize that she'd found new places to put her lyrics.
Like on her fridge.
She quickly took those down, setting them on the counter so it was a bit out of the way.
Javier smiled as Colt pushed his way into the apartment, Manola following, albeit a little more hesitantly. He took off her leash, putting it in his pocket. “I think it'd be fun,” he said quietly, thinking of exploring London. It wasn't an unfriendly city, but it wasn't as awkward with someone else. He had coerced some of his colleagues to take him around, but all they had done was take him to a tour bus and given him a map.
He followed her. “It isn't messy,” he said earnestly. “My flat tends to be a black hole. Especially when it comes to socks,” Javier mused, putting his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to be rude and observe the apartment – his mother had told him to only look where the host looked, after all – still, he liked looking at the papers. He couldn't understand heads or tails when it came to music, but it was still hers.
She took down the papers on the refrigerator quickly, and Javier wondered if they were personal or if she was just shy. He looked down at the bags of grocery to avoid making her uncomfortable. “How can I help?” he asked cheerfully. “I can't cook, but I can juggle.”
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