Love Consequences (Season 2 of Nata & Phillip's Romance)

5: Bad boy turns good

Nata

The booth we sit in is tucked in a corner, away from the group of tables the staff meets in the middle of the room for their lunch where they try today's specials. That's probably what's in the to-go containers that Martina left for us. I rotate the cup of my cappuccino secco and line up the still untouched heart in my cup with its twin in Phillip's. This heart is like mine. Imperfect.

Coffee has always been an escape for me. A moment of pleasure in the morning, a surefire way to jolt my senses into high gear, a cup to warm me when I'm cold, a refreshing iced beverage to push away any unwanted heat. The coffee in front of me is a symbol of today. It's fun in a cup. Fun that I never thought I needed, but I desperately want to cling to. Fun that I'm still afraid of.

"Are you going to drink your coffee?" Phillip's voice has a lightness that triggers a longing deep in my chest.

"It's my best heart. Not sure I want to ruin it," I say.

"You can always create more. You know how." Phillip's fingers find mine. Our clasped hands lie next to the cooling coffee—a picture I'll keep in my head along with many others from today. Imperfectly perfect. The squeeze in my heart brings a lump to my throat.

"This feels special," I say. "If I could save it and keep it forever, I would."

"Just savor your coffee. Enjoy this moment. No reason to keep it for the future where you'll only be able to treat it as a past. The joy of the moment is worthy in itself."

The ache that spreads in my chest as the answer to his words curdles the milk from all today's coffees in my stomach. It's as if he knows me. I always straddle between the past and the future. The present has never been more than a result or a catalyst. I slide my hand away and hide it on my knee under the table. "You sound like a philosopher. I thought you're the fun guy."

"Can't I be both?"

I shrug.

"I'll be thirty-eight soon. I've passed at least thirty of those in some kind of therapy. Between the years lived and hours spent talking about them, I'm fairly certain I'm a good sounding board. I'm always available if you ever want to talk about what's going on in your head or your heart."

I huff. "Would that make you my therapist?"

"That would make me your friend."

"Friends?" My gaze flies to his. "Is that what we are?"

"One of the things we are," he says like it's a fact, not a hope.

"Friends with benefits?" I jut my chin out in defense. The last time we slept together was definitely not the kind of clinical sex I imagined when I signed the contract. That night we had the kind of sex romance books are written about. My cheeks heat. Who am I kidding? I want more of that sex. But I also don't want to blur the lines any further. Sex with benefits ends either in tears or in a boyfriend-girlfriend status and I'm not interested in either.

A muscle on Phillip's jaw ticks. "I've never had that, and I think I am too old to start now."

"You've never had a friends-with-benefits relationship?"

"No. Have you?"

"No." I give him an 'are you kidding' look. He knows my sex history. "But we're not talking about me. The tabloids showed a parade of women you slept with. Are you saying those are lies? You've never done it?"

"First, I would not trust the tabloids if I were you." He leans back and crosses his arms. "They find a way to take a kernel of truth and puff it into popcorn of lies the public is so fond of gorging themselves on."