Lavender Tea and Magical Meetings
**This is a very quick one-shot (a part of my power hour entries, where a story is written and completed in 60 minutes). The characters are from my own previously published original novel. Iâm thinking of continuing the universe with a sequel and this is just a way to refresh my brain to the idea. There may be a few more before I make a decision. Either way it goes, this has been birthed. Enjoy!Â
__________________________________________________
 Every meet-cute involves an accident of some kind. As if we as a people donât have enough to be anxious about. To have to worry about whether or not you're going to flash a mob of strangers on your way down a flight of stairs is just gratuitous stress for absolutely no reason.
 This is how Robin has felt since the onÂset of puberty and her first foray into 80' s rom-coms, and that was at least 20 years ago. So, imagine her surprise when her dog damn near destroys half a block trying
to get to some man she's never met before, and she proceeds to invite him to tea like it's a regular thing she does.
 All that's left is the uplifting pop number that's set supposed to set the tune of the rest of their undoubtedly long lasting relationship.
 Now, here she sits at a small, strangely intimate patio table at her most frequented cafe, with a man she's just met because her dog tried to take him out⌠in the most lovable way, of course.
 She should be feeling awkward. Hell, she should probably be feeling suspicious. Do
meet-cubes happen for heavily pregnant women?
 No. The answer is no. Not that she's ever seen in the very least.
 New-born baby? Yea, ok.
 Eight months in with a prominent waddle? No one's trying to see that.
 So, the question ends up being, why is this happening to her and why is she not feeling shiftier about it?
 âWe havenât met before have we?â he asks curiosity bright on his face. And a handsome face it is, she canât help but note. And while she could put the blame squarely on her ever-fluctuating hormones, it would be one hell of a lie.
 âI donât see how we could have.â Which makes the familiarity all the more out of place. Come on rationality where have you gone?
 Steam billows softly from the mouth of the squat teacup. Perfect to catch and release the smooth floral scent of the lavender tea Trish get in front of her.
 Not without a lingering sidelong glance, mind..
 Her dog, Bopa, the true mastermind of destruction if not accidental cupid, groans from underneath their table, happily gnawing away at the rawhide treat Trish slipped to her while dropping off their drinks.
 The fact that she was so easily distracted, not that she hadn't just moments before been a little remiss in her guard dogging since barreling into 'Misha', helped to distract her from Trish's aggravating though valid suspicion for her tea guest.
 âYou know, dogs... they have, kind of a sixth sense about people,â she comments after a warming sip. âLike, they know who to trust. who to bite, within the first moments of meeting them.â
 He smirks around the lip of his own cup, but doesnât drink, just takes a gentle sniff, testing before setting it back down, âYea?â
 âYea. And I know what you're wandering: 'why the hell is she saying this to me? What does this have to do with the price of tea in China, right?â
 âMaybe not soâŚâ he makes a waffling gesture with his free hand.
 âOh, yea, sure, so what I'm getting at is I donât usually let people I don't know kiss me, no matter how innocent or whatever.... or take me anywhere.â She gestures around vaguely in referral to the cafe, âI mean I donât know you from Adam... but my dog, she likes you. Like, really likes you.. Like, you've got dumplings in your pocket or something... So, I guess that means you're a good guy.â It has to, because
why else would she feel this way? So at ease.
 Would she be completely crazy if she said complete? Probably.
 âYou guess?â He looks amused at the candor.
 âWell, I still need to get there myself.â
 âI'm a good guy Ptichka. Still, I understand.â He fiddles with the handle of the dainty
little teacup. So delicate looking in his large hands. Then he does the gentle sniff move again.
 She finds herself giggling softly at him. âThey do have coffee, if that's
what you prefer. Coffee,â she sighs absently, âoh how I miss thee.â
 He laughs and it's both a soft and masculine sound that sends a wave of warmth throughout her chest. âThe tea is fine,â he says eventually. âIt is just, the scent is familiar, though I
Cannot seem to place it.â
 âMaybe... if you drink it...?â she suggests.
 There's no real reason not so, so he does. It's warm and soothing, she knows from experience, with it and the soft crooning of Judith Hill in the background creating a calming ambiance makes everything seem kind of perfect.
 Itâs something she can see on his face just as clearly as it resonates within her, as if making him this soft, happy thing could be her lifeâs mission and sheâd be wildly thankful for it. âWatch this,â she prompts, squeezing a slice of lemon into her tea, the two watch intently as it turns a soft purple. She smiles conspiratorially and with a wave of delicate fingers whispers, âMagic.â
 He laughs outright, excited by her own happiness.
 So much so that the moment is not even really marred when he eventually asks her something that should feel rightfully invasive. Because, really, what stranger asks, âWhat about the father?â so soon after meeting someone.
 Either way, she knows she would have felt some kind of way had it been anyone else asking.
 Oddly enough, no one has ever cared enough to ask before. Not to her. Not to her face. Which is probably the actual weird thing, now that she thinks about it.
 She tries to think of an answer, to put together the most appropriate string of words.
 But she really can't. Not as if she's ashamed or that she doesnât know who the father is or anything of that sort. It's that she canât. Everything comes up blank there are no words. Like something's stopping her from reaching that far back. That something, a big nothingness where nothing exists. That feels both a little warm and freezing cold. It's a little discomforting and it's never happened before. She is positive of that.
 There's always been something there. Memories, a face, a name, an answer...
 At least⌠she thinks there has been she scrunches her face and tries to shake off the unsettling thought. âYou know what, it was a long time ago and they'reâŚâ she can't say it. Can't say gone, not important, somewhere out there living their best life. Not to him.
 âThey missed out,â he finishes for her and it's something she can accept. A truth that reverberates within her entire psyche and echoes in him. Curious.
 âYea.â It's a little sad, but at the moment, not overwhelmingly so and she wonders if she should feel bad about that. If she should be feeling bad for both of them.
 All of that's forgotten when she settles back wholly on the person in front of her and takes him all in. The way his smile returns, bright and sincere. It propels her past the sad spiral that was tapping on
a particularly sensitive corner of her brain.
 It must be weird that she feels this level or completeness-completion?-sitting across from him. Like the niggling in the back of her mind has suddenly stopped and she can breathe with an ease she hasnât felt in a long time or even realized she had been missing.
 It almost feels like a little too much at once.
 âSorry.â She abruptly shoots from her seat -well as quickly as a pregnant woman her size can shoot- âIâve gotta pee. Like ALL THE TIME, man. Iâll be right back though.â She promises before he can react as she shuffles out. Her happy husky only giving her a lazy glance from her spot underneath the table.
 âIs that something she often does? Or is it just me?â he asks his new canine acquaintance, who only stares up at him with wide eyes a quiet commiserating whine in the back of her throat. Misha nods as if he understands perfectly, âAh. I see.â
 A woman with her hair pulled back in a strikingly severe pony-tail, the same woman that delivered their tea in fact, dropped down into the vacated seat, her arms folded and an equally severe look upon her face. She leans back in the chair, from which she gives him a very thorough shovel talk apropos to nothing really. Only standing after starring him into capitulation with her sinister sounding âWe understand each other now, donât we,â just as Robin returns and reluctantly allows her possibly overly proactive friend, to help her flop back down into the chair.
 âShe refuses to hear me when I say I've got this awkward shift of center of gravity down like science. Trish didnât say anything inappropriate to you, did she?â she asks once she gets comfortably situated.
 âNot at all.â The smile he gives is genuine and reassuring.
 âGood. I'm enjoying-myself and I'd hate for her to stick her big head in it and mess it all up.â
 âI have a feeling it would take more than innocent meddling to do that.â
 âInnocent,â she scoffs. âThe woman is a goddamn shark-excuse me-she'll take a chunk out of you before you could scream for help.â
 âSpeaking from experience?â he asks.
 âWe grew up together. Seems like I've known her my entire life⌠and then some.â Her gaze shifts to the empty space above his shoulder, drifting off into someplace no one else could reach.
 She scrunches her nose at what she manages to see there. âAnd yet, there are times I want nothing more than to swing her around by that tight-ass pony-tail because she said some mean-ass shit, unnecessary.â
 âThat sounds like siblinghood.â
 It's reasonable⌠and true, so she shrugs her shoulders at it in casual acceptance. âI guess. Listen, I am going to have to pee again in like, thirty minutes and my eyes are starting to burn a little, not
that that's important, but I should call it a night.â Sheâs sad to say it just as much as he looks upset to hear it. âI'd like to do this again though-If you're interested, that isâŚâ
 âI am.â He reaches out to help steady her as they stand, a move that feels easily instictive. âWould you like me to walk you home?â
 âI-I think I would like that.â
 With a sharp whistle Bopa skitters out from beneath the table, detouring only to accept a second treat from Trish, following them out into the busy sidewalk and off into whatever happy moments are to come.
 Maybe dumplingsâŚshe likes those.
__________________________________________________
**If this bit tickled your fancy take a peep at a few excerpts on my website.