10 | Heavenly Fire

THE FIRST THING ROBERT DID when he stepped into her apartment was grin, which concerned Jen a little bit. She knew that her living arrangement wasn't exactly impressive, but she didn't think it was that bad. Was it really laughable?

She awkwardly crossed her arms, further wrinkling her already-wrinkled shirt. "I'm kicking you out if you make fun of me," she said stubbornly.

"Make fun of you? No, there's nothing wrong with it," he laughed. "It's just that it's the same layout as mine, so it feels a lot like home and nothing like it at the same time."

She supposed that nearby buildings having the same floor plans wasn't that unusual—and he couldn't have lived very far from here, after all, since he'd said his place was within walking distance of St. Catherine's.

It would probably do her some good not to immediately assume that every single person she encountered had poor intentions.

"Oh." She cleared her throat slightly. "So, where are we going?"

"I'd think the birthday girl should get to pick."

That was nice of him, but she wasn't the most decisive person on the planet when it came to food. "Um..."

Her mind was usually tired and fuzzy after crying, but him standing here in her living room made her hyper-aware of her own presence and her surroundings. She was simultaneously thinking about the dirty cup in the sink that needed to be washed out and the thin film of dust on the top of the bookshelf that she hadn't wiped off yet and the small lock of hair that was on the verge of slipping out of her ponytail. It was like she'd taken Celie's strongest cup of coffee and then injected it directly into her veins.

She nervously shuffled her weight from one foot to the other and asked, "What's the best Italian food around here?"

He thought about it for a second. "Probably Bertolo's. Have you been?"

She shook her head. "No, but I trust your judgment. I just need a few minutes to get ready. Do you, um, want tea or water or anything while you wait?"

He politely declined and assured her that she could take whatever time she needed to freshen up, so she left him sitting on the couch and scurried back to her bedroom, her heart hammering in her chest.

This was fine. Totally fine. She just looked like a dying animal and her co-worker who she'd been daydreaming about kissing was sitting in her living room and waiting for her to get ready so they could go out to dinner together. Just a typical Wednesday night.

Jen could feel that she was blushing furiously, but she forced herself to come to a halt in the center of her room, take a deep breath, and figure out how to make herself look presentable in ten minutes or less. She didn't want to keep him waiting forever.

Her hair tumbled down her back as she pulled it out of the elastic a little too aggressively. There wasn't enough time to do much with it, so she'd simply have to brush it out and hope it looked okay down. Tossing the hair tie onto the floor, she flocked to her bathroom to fix her makeup. Step number one was just making sure she no longer looked like she'd been crying.

Given the time she had, she thought she did a decent job. Her eyes were still visibly pink if one looked closely enough, but it was unlikely that anyone besides Robert would and he had already seen her tear-streaked face. She found herself putting a little more pink on her cheeks than she normally would just so that it would be less obvious when he inevitably made her blush—she had an embarrassing tendency to do that in front of him.

When she retreated from the bathroom and strode towards her closet, Jen silently scolded herself for almost never buying anything whenever Celie dragged her to the mall. She barely had anything that would be appropriate for this sort of outing – or, at least, she didn't think she did, but she still wasn't entirely sure what sort of outing this even was.

Finally, after shoving all of her work and casual clothes aside, she found her meager collection of more formal items hiding on the far end of the rack. There was a black silky slip dress that she'd thrifted but never had an occasion – or the bravery – to wear in public. She grabbed it off the hanger and decided that she'd have to make it work.

As she stripped her clothes off and carefully pulled the dress on over her head, Jen was more conscious than ever that Robert was just in the other room. The fabric was unbelievably soft as it tumbled down her body, but she stiffened as she felt it hug her skin in ways that her typical loose attire did not. Tentatively, she stepped over to her full-length mirror to evaluate her reflection.

She looked...different. Normal Jen would wear baggy layers because she didn't like drawing any attention to her body. Even in the summer, when she couldn't get away with hiding herself under a giant coat, she usually opted for a flowy top or dress. And even if she had wanted people looking at her, she still didn't think there was all that much to put on display—her body was about as flat and shapeless as a wooden board. Though the cut of the slip dress was relaxed enough that she didn't feel like she was being constricted, it still left much less up to the imagination than she was used to. One could follow the subtle curves of her chest, waist, hips, and legs if they so desired. The sharp – sometimes too sharp, she thought disapprovingly – lines of her collarbones were visible above the neckline. She nearly flung the dress off and braced herself to reemerge in a college sweatshirt and jeans, but she didn't.

She thought that she did, perhaps, look a little bit pretty, even if this wasn't the Jen she was used to. Maybe it was a Jen that she wished to know, and there was only one way to find out.

However, she also grabbed one of her trench coats out of the closet. It was still the middle of February, so she couldn't just walk out the door in spaghetti straps. And it eased her mind to know that if she reached a point where she was truly too uncomfortable with how she looked in the dress, she could conceal it completely by tying the coat closed.

Her hands were shaking slightly with nervous anticipation as she finished off the outfit with a pair of tiny stud earrings. There's nothing to be anxious about, she told herself. It was just Robert.

Robert, who was still waiting very patiently when she returned to the living room. He seemed frozen in place when he turned around on the couch and saw her, though his lips parted slightly as he looked at her in a way that she couldn't decipher.

"What?" she self-consciously wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging herself. "Do I look dreadful? Be honest."

"No." His voice was strained with a slight rasp that was unfamiliar to her, one that sent an unexpected shiver down her back. "Not dreadful. You look great."

Oh. He might have just been saying what he thought she would want to hear, but Jen turned a little pink nonetheless. "Thank you."

She almost asked him if he was ready to go, but of course he was. It was already well past dark now, but as they stepped outside, she noticed that the mild weather from this afternoon seemed to be sticking around. Though it was noticeably cooler than it had been while the sun was out, it still wasn't nearly as bad as she would have expected for this time of year. There had been several occasions in years past in which it snowed on her birthday.

Jen was apparently too busy thinking about the weather to pay enough attention to her footing, which resulted in her wobbling on the second to last step. She suddenly grabbed at the metal railing to steady herself.

Even in the dark, she could see that she had startled Robert. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she gave an airy laugh, feeling oddly invigorated even though she nearly just faceplanted. "I just don't remember the last time I wore heels."

"Ah." He was amused now, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a smile, and offered his arm for balance.

It took her no effort to return the smile. As she slipped her fingers through the crook of his elbow, she could feel the curve of his bicep through his coat. The warmth, the nearness of him was such a stark difference from the cold, indifferent winter air. She swallowed a sudden dryness in her throat. "Thanks."

She couldn't even remember the last time she went out to dinner with someone besides her parents or Celie. The last time she was this close to a man. Letting people in didn't come easily to her. Yet as they talked about everything and nothing while they walked, there was a strange heat growing like a flickering candle beneath her ribcage. A kind of heat she wasn't sure she'd ever felt at all. She didn't know exactly what it was, just that she was smiling more than she had in a long time.

Surprisingly, by the time they'd reached the restaurant and Robert was holding the door open for her, Jen's feet weren't aching from her heels yet. The interior was larger than it looked from the outside, so it didn't seem like they would have too long of a wait. It was rather pretty, decorated minimally yet elegantly. Most of the light fixtures emitted a yellowish hue to mimic candlelight. But as she glanced around, she couldn't help but notice that a majority of the couples at the two-person tables looked very...coupley. People were pouring wine, holding hands and laughing, leaning forward to talk quietly to one another. It hadn't even crossed her mind until now that Italian restaurants were usually pretty popular spots for date nights. She slowly slipped her arm out of his, hoping that the motion seemed natural rather than conspicuously deliberate.

They were ushered to a table after just a couple of minutes. Jen felt some of her nervous jitters dissipate as they sat down across from each other and she saw that he appeared to be rather at ease. But she barely had any time to start looking at the menu before a waiter had appeared seemingly out of nowhere to ask about drinks.

"Um...I'll just have water," she said a bit awkwardly.

She caught Robert very subtly raise an eyebrow at her as if trying to decipher if she actually wanted to be that boring on her birthday or was just too non-confrontational to ask for more time with the menu. He seemed to comprehend that she wasn't quite sure what all of her options were. "You want any wine?"

She almost laughed. It was probably a punishable crime in Italy not to have booze with dinner. "You can pick."

"White or red?"

"Ah...red. But either is fine," she offered diplomatically.

He rattled off the name of one that sounded expensive – then again, didn't they all? – and the waiter left to put in their order. Jen fiddled with her hands in her lap; Robert was still looking at her like he was trying to read her mind.

"Jen?" he asked, much more gingerly now.

She must have looked more deeply buried in her thoughts than she realized. "Yes?"

"I don't want to overstep," he admitted tentatively. "But are you okay?"

It took a moment for her to realize that he was referring to the fact that she had been very obviously crying when he showed up at her door.

"Yes...no? I don't know," she confessed in a small sigh. "It was some family stuff. My mom, she's had some memory problems since that accident I mentioned and it's been hard on all of us. My dad has had way too much on his plate ever since then, so things between us are just...tense."

She didn't know if she was explaining too much or too little, but he was listening to her attentively. His eyes remained on her, but not so firmly that she felt like she might crack under his gaze. Just enough to make her feel like he cared.

"I'm sorry."

Jen lightly shook her head. "Don't be sorry for me. I've had a lot of people pity me over the years and I..." Her shoulders fell slightly as she slowly exhaled. "I get tired of feeling like I'm fragile."

He paused for a moment, then quietly said, "I don't think you're fragile."

She could see him silently wrestling with his words, wishing to speak up and say something more that would help her but understanding that she didn't want his sympathies at the moment. He was intelligent enough to grasp that letting this discussion invade their entire dinner would only make her just as miserable as she'd been crying on the couch at home.

"I know you don't."

Their waiter reappeared impressively quickly to deliver their glasses of water and wine and take their food orders. Though Jen hadn't gotten the chance to thoroughly read through the menu, she spotted a pesto pasta dish that sounded good and opted for that.

She returned her attention to Robert as soon as their server was gone. "And I'm glad you came," she assured him, a little afraid that he still felt some guilt for bothering her in the midst of her crisis. "It helps to have some company."

His expression of concern eased slightly, but she noticed his eyes drift away from her face like he didn't want to make eye contact. There was a tightening sensation in her chest—had she said the wrong thing? "What is it?"

His voice was soft as he explained, "Your hands."

Jen looked down—her fingers had curled into anxious fists, her nails prodding at her palms. She abruptly jerked them open as if she'd wrapped her hand around a hot iron.

"I'm sorry," she sighed as she stretched her fingers back out. "It's not you, I promise."

She thought she was being rather abysmal company, but Robert didn't seem irked. To her total surprise, he wordlessly reached across the table and offered his hand to her instead of saying anything.

Jen simply stared at it for a second, her heart turning over in her chest. She could feel her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. But even while she was wondering why he would pick now of all moments to make a move, she was closing the gap between them and letting her hand lightly settle on his. It felt just as she expected, soft but slightly calloused from all the time he spent holding pens and dry erase markers while he was teaching and grading.

In a way, she felt like she had already known its exact shape—it was the hand that wrote all those lovely letters to her.

She was not at all anticipating what he said next. "Squeeze it."

"What?"

"You heard me." Her reaction had tugged one corner of his mouth up into the beginnings of a smile. "It helps with that wanting-to-punch-a-wall feeling."

Jen felt a flush of warmth flood to her face, but it wasn't due to anything he said. It was that she'd allowed herself to believe that there was anything romantic about his intentions when there clearly wasn't.

She shoved the thought out of mind and reluctantly tightened her fingers. She did it gradually, not wishing to accidentally hurt him, but once she was gripping him as tightly as she could, it finally registered with her that this did, in fact, satisfy the desire to take her frustration out on something.

When she let go of him, she actually felt much better than she had a minute before and found herself smiling again. "You know, a lot of people wouldn't be so understanding if their date showed up in a terrible mood."

Date. The word had just slipped out of her mouth and now she was lifting her wine glass to her lips in hopes that it could conceal some of the color in her cheeks. She prayed he understood that she obviously wasn't talking about a date date.

But Robert had an excellent poker face, so she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Well, I did show up unannounced. I hope I didn't startle you too much."

"I hope I didn't startle you too much," she grinned, remembering the look on his face when she opened the door. "And I did happen to be a bit curious to find out what made you late this morning."

"I was on time until I managed to spill coffee on myself on the way out the door."

Jen stifled a giggle—that was exactly the sort of clumsy thing she would do.

Their conversation was much brighter after that, and their food was delivered shortly thereafter. Just the scent of hers was enough to make her mouth water and when the plate was placed in front of her, she saw that it looked even more incredible than it smelled. It didn't disappoint–the flavors of pesto and parmesan mingled exquisitely when she took a bite.

She was very glad she didn't let herself stay at home.

"Not half bad?" Robert guessed, reading her expression.

"Not half bad."

They were quieter for the next few minutes while they ate, but Jen found that she wanted to get him talking again. She enjoyed listening to him. So, setting down her fork carefully on her plate, she requested, "Tell me a story about home."

He only had to think about it for a moment before launching into a story about the first time he went to Naples as a child and the hilarity that ensued (though he made a point of noting that it was very stressful at the time) when he and his sister got separated from their parents. It was fun to watch him talk. He used his hands a lot. He smiled a lot, and he had many different smiles. There was the one as soft as the first rays of light, the one you wished you could wrap yourself up in like a hug or a warm blanket. Then there was the tiny, impish smirk. And the grin as sunny as the sun itself, the one that made you feel like all the bad in the world couldn't possibly outweigh the good.

He was a good storyteller, vividly setting the scene and interjecting just the right amount of humor. He made her laugh and the more he talked, the more she ceased to worry about everything that was upsetting her earlier – even when the time came for her to take a turn and tell a childhood story of her own. That spark she felt inside of her was growing into a flame and the bigger it got, the more she wanted it.

She wanted him and she wanted to tell him, but she couldn't.

Jen was a little disappointed when it was time to pay. After he handed off his credit card, she teasingly asked, "Are you against girls paying for their own food?"

"I am when it's their birthday," he told her. "I'll let you pay next time. And there should be a next time, because I still owe you a second trip to the art museum."

Her heart jumped at the mention that he'd like to see her again aside from work. "You have a deal."

The sidewalk was emptier by the time they left the restaurant, though the streets of a city this large would never feel truly empty. A steady flow of traffic continued down the roads and Jen, observing how each car's headlights cast sharp highlights and shadows on the one in front of it, was reminded of Gentileschi's paintings with all their intense lights and darks. There was something amusing about the thought—perhaps if Baroque painters existed in the 20th century, this was the scene they'd be painting.

And in the background would be a girl, clinging onto her companion's arm even though she no longer needed it to steady herself. There was no harm in pretending that she did. Her whole body was full of warmth now, but she didn't think it was the wine. She hadn't had that much to drink, and no amount of drinking had ever made her feel like this.

"Thank you for dinner," she told him.

"Did you like it?" he asked hopefully. "Please don't lie to me if you thought it was terrible or else I'm going to take you back there and look like an idiot."

Jen laughed freely while secretly loving that he wanted to take her back. "It was great, I promise."

She nearly stepped into a sidewalk grate and got her heel stuck, but she caught herself at the last second and held onto Robert a little tighter. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the white of his teeth as he grinned.

"I'm not usually this clumsy."

He turned his face closer towards hers so that she could see him raise his eyebrows. "I'm not sure if I believe you."

Jen wanted to bury her face in his shoulder or reach up and brush his windblown hair back in a very un-Jenlike fashion. A wild thought ran through her head – imagine if anyone at work saw us like this! – but she said nothing of it out loud. For the first time, she really did not care what the consequences might be.

The moon was particularly bright tonight, so she craned her neck to look up at it and stop herself from ogling at him. But she was glad she did. The pale disc against a pitch-black sky had such a peaceful elegance to it, unmatched by anything on this earth.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

He was looking at it, too, and whispered something she didn't understand under his breath. "Eppure sei più bella."

She smiled and lightly elbowed him. Beautiful was the only part of that sentence she comprehended. "What's it mean?"

"I agreed that it's very beautiful," he explained.

"You'll have to write it down for me so I can add it to my list."

There was something different in his voice when he said, "I will."

In what felt like both the blink of an eye and hours later, they were back at the front steps to her building. But her whole being was alight with something totally unfamiliar, like her soul was reaching out to him. It coursed through her body like a beautiful fire that she didn't know how to control, and she was seconds away from asking him if he felt it too when she instead took a shallow breath and forced herself to let go of him.

"I had a wonderful time." I needed you. How did you know I needed you?

She got the soft smile this time, which made it even more difficult to leave him. His expression was impossible to read. "Me, too. Goodnight, Jen."

She turned from him and walked up the steps, reminding herself that she would get to see him again tomorrow morning even if it was just for work. But just as she got to the top, she heard an urgent, "Jen, wait-"

When she turned, he was suddenly right there with her, his eyes dark with what she didn't realize was desire until he'd already drawn her towards him and was kissing her. He was kissing her. He was kissing her and she gasped against his mouth in surprise and then she was kissing him back. She could breathe in the scent of him, taste the wine on his lips, and it filled her with the overwhelming urge to pull him even closer. She was startled by this sensation that set her ablaze, like someone had struck a match against her veins and scorched her whole body with this heavenly fire. She thought that fire was supposed to hurt. But this, this felt glorious. His touch was tentative, and as his thumb glided along her cheekbone, his hand was trembling, like he knew how wrong this was–

He abruptly jerked back from her. Jen, stunned by what they'd just done, instinctively lifted her fingers to her lips as she felt all that fire in her body rush to her cheeks.

He looked as shocked as she felt. She could see the emotion in the way he looked at her, in the way his shoulders fell slightly, but all that came out of his mouth was, "Jen."

He said it in a breathless, defeated, longing kind of way that made her heart sing and shatter at the same time. "Jen, I–"

She shook her head vigorously to stop him. She had no faith that she could calmly listen to whatever he was about to say to her, regardless of if it was what she wanted to hear or not.

"I should go to sleep," she said quietly, hating herself as she did. "Goodnight."

She couldn't bear to see his expression after that, so she turned and rushed inside as fast as she could. Her heartbeat was so loud that she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears as she sank back down onto the couch.

All of her energy had drained out of her. She was breathless, the fire inside of her smoldering down to ashes.

Oh. Oh, God. What had she done?

She knew that a small blaze wasn't a massive problem in itself. A fire could be put out if one got it under control, if one tried hard enough.

But oh, how she wanted to burn.

____________________

A/N:

Well...that just happened.

Thoughts? Reactions?

Also, would you be interested in reading a chapter from Robert's POV at some point? I'm not making any guarantees because that was never part of my original plan for this story, but I'm still laying out what I want each of the chapters in the second half of the book to look like and might be able to work something in from his perspective if that's something you all would want.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely day!