Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,36
meeting between them now would be pleasant but brief. One night, no matter how explosive, did not a friendship make and she was proud to have accepted her lapse as an event that did not signal the end of her world. They were both busy people, with full schedules of teaching, research and upcoming defenses, plus, in Brandon’s case, work and rehearsals. The connection between them would wither in its natural course, time and distractions working their magic.
As if sensing a lull, their waiter hurried to the table. He set dessert menus in front of them one by one and paused expectantly.
Looking over the menu, her dad laughed. “I didn’t think there was room for anything else, but I see you’ve got baked coconut pudding. You may have to roll me out, but I’ll have that, please.”
“Very good, sir,” the waiter said, turning to Brandon next.
“I’ll have your sticky rice with mangoes. And a cup of coffee. No sugar. One cream.”
“And for you, miss?”
She hesitated and Brandon’s mouth quirked. “Come on, Leanne,” he said in a singsong voice. “You know you want to.”
“Fine,” she huffed playfully, snapping the menu shut. “Honey melon sorbet for me.” She stood, dropped her napkin onto her chair and collected her purse. “Excuse me, I’ll be back in a sec.”
She hurried toward the washrooms, threading through the linen covered tables to the front of the restaurant. A burst of male laughter made her turn. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Brandon once again deep in conversation with her father, comfortable after one night in a way that Steven had never been after nearly two years.
She shivered and slipped into the small stall. As she washed her hands, she thought about the similarities between Brandon and herself that seemed designed to deepen the connection between them. It wasn’t just his sense of humor and stunning good looks. Nor was it simply their incendiary attraction. He’d charmed her friends and fit in easily with her close-knit social circle. And he shared many of her dad’s interests. All of these things would have been great attributes if Brandon was someone she could ever consider in a long-term light but now they were lodestones around her neck, weighing her down with regret and bitterness.
What was it with fate, teasing her, taunting her like this? Steven should have been perfect for her but he wasn’t. Brandon should have been all wrong for her but he wasn’t. She liked too many things about this guy to dismiss him as nothing but an accidental lover.
Yet no matter how many positives she tallied, they couldn’t outweigh one inescapable truth.
They had no future. What they wanted out of life was too different to ever give them a true foundation. In a few months time, she’d finish her PhD and, if everything went according to plan, set off on the next stage of her career as the recipient of the Walters Prize. Brandon was still at least a year or more away from finishing his dissertation. It wasn’t rational to expect their unconventional friendship to survive the distance and separation so it was best to limit their time from the start.
She snapped off the taps and dried her hands. Back in the dining room, Brandon stood at the front counter with the hostess. He seemed startled to see her, turning away as she hurried across the restaurant.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “I was just settling the bill.”
“You can’t do that,” Leanne protested. “You gave us the tickets. Besides, this was supposed to be my treat.” She scrabbled in her purse and drew out her wallet, setting it on the hostess counter. Brandon frowned and drew out a billfold. They stood side by side, glaring at each other like dueling cowboys.
“I’d like the bill, please,” they said simultaneously, and the hostess, a diminutive woman in Asian dress, laughed.
“The gentleman you are dining with?” the hostess said in a lilting voice. “When he arrived, he left a message at the desk for you both.”
“He did?” Leanne threw a startled glance at Brandon. “What did it say?”
“He said to put your wallets away because this meal is his treat and neither of you are paying for it.”
Leanne shook her head in defeat. “Leave it, Brandon. There’s no way Dad’s letting you pay for your own meal. He still tries to slip me money for rent and groceries every time he comes over. It’s just his way of showing he