I literally could not stop looking at him.

Ben was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me to finish making the pie that Papa wanted me to make for dessert. He thought I was almost finished, but I had barely just put the dough in the fridge to chill. I leant against the counter, putting my elbows on the top and my chin in my palms. Ben was on his mobile, and hadn't looked up in about ten minutes.

I felt a little creepy just watching him and smiling, but I couldn't help it.

"Lottie, what flavour pie are you cooking up?" he asked suddenly, glancing up.

My elbows slipped and I accidentally smacked my head against the marble. "Oh," I said, half in pain and half in surprise. I rubbed my forehead.

When I looked at Ben, he had his eyebrows raised and his mouth pursed in amusement. "Are you okay?"

I closed my eyes, feeling my head throb. That was what I got for being a creepy thing. "Just splendid, thank you," I said cheerfully. Then I thought about what I did and slapped the counter, giggles escaping my mouth.

I rubbed my head again, tears slipping out of my eyes from the throbbing and the laughter. "Jesus Christ, Lottie, what's wrong with you?" he asked. When I glanced at him, his twitching mouth had morphed into a full-blown smile, and he shook his head.

I smiled back at him, and my heart seemed to fall out of my mouth. "A lot of things," I told him. He stood up and walked up to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and bending down to look at my eyes. I blinked at him in confusion when he frowned. "What's wrong with you?" I asked.

Ben managed to keep a straight face for about three seconds before he sagged his head and started laughing. His hands gripped my shoulders so tightly that I could feel his body shaking, which in turn shook me.

I loved his laugh. It came all the way from his belly and was a deep and satisfying sound that hung in the air and made me want to laugh as well. Soon we were both falling all over each other with laughter, and I didn't know what was funny, but I just loved hearing him go at it.

My voice faded off, but Ben was practically gripping me to his chest and crying with laughter. "Y-y-you just-" I furrowed my eyebrows and just watched him. I beamed affectionately, not knowing what to do.

I poked his shoulder to try and get his attention, but he just rested his head on my shoulder and kept laughing. "Benjamin Fisher," I said, tapping his cheek.

"You just fell against the counter!" he exclaimed. "Lottie, what-"

I cupped his cheeks with both of my hands and turned him to face me, pressing my smiling mouth against his. That definitely got him to stop, and he kind of froze against me. I giggled and he moved his hands from my shoulders to my hair and started responding. I felt his heart beating wildly, and it made me smile wider.

I really loved him.

I moved back and grinned, wiggling my eyebrows. "Don't make fun of me," I said, pinching his cheeks and stretching them out.

"Jesus Christ, Lottie," he breathed, straightening up. His face was flushed, and that made me want to tease him really badly. "I just wanted to know what damn flavour your damn pie was."

I beamed at him and stepped back. "Strawberry and blueberry, is that alright?"

Ben squinted at me. "How much sugar are you putting it?"

"Just a pinch - the fruit is sweet enough. Okay with you?"

"I'm sure if you make it, it'll be fine."

I paused and my eyes widened at his words. He'd said it with a straight face, still looking a little grumpy from me teasing him. Did he really compliment me like that? "Oh," was all I could say.

He rolled his eyes and kissed my cheek, ruffled my hair, and walked back to the kitchen table. My goofy smile refused to fall. Ben sat at the table and glanced at me like he didn't know what to do now.

I sighed happily and took the cartons of strawberries and blueberries from the fridge. I washed them and put them in a pan with some cornstarch and a wee bit of sugar, but my head was in the clouds and I couldn't really think. While the fruit cooked, I took the dough from the fridge and rolled it into a pie pan. "Ben," I sang to myself. "Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben."

"What are you saying?"

I ignored him and kept working until the pie was ready to put in the oven. I loved him, I really, really loved him, and the fact that he didn't want to go to York had me unable to frown.

I hoped he wasn't going to give anything up for me, though. I really hoped he didn't, because then I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. But maybe to think that was exceptionally conceited of me, because what if he didn't feel anything for me like I did for him?

I mean, I didn't mind that he hadn't responded to my I love you, but it was kind of a downer. Maybe he hadn't said anything because he didn't want to lie.

I closed my eyes. I was seriously going to hurt myself with all this self-deprecation.

Suddenly, Ben stood up. I jumped and looked at him, puzzled. "I left my laptop in the car," he explained, walking out of the kitchen. I stared after him, but shrugged and went back to work.

Papa came into the kitchen just then and he beckoned to me. "Charlie, can you come here for a minute? I can't get the damn telly to change programmes."

I giggled and followed him to the living room. "I'm surprised that you were even able to turn it on in the first place." He rolled his eyes and gave me the remote, pointing to the telly. I saw that the footie was still on, and I frowned. "You want to switch away from football?" I asked. My dad didn't watch anything but football. He literally would watch the matches, and then would watch them again, and then would rewatch segments of old World Cups and follow his favourite players to see what they were up to.

Papa stared at me blankly until we heard the sound of the front door opening. I glanced back to see Ben hurrying to the kitchen, and I was about to go after him when Papa propelled me to the front of the TV and pointed at the screen. "I'm feeling like Food Network," he said.

My mouth opened in disbelief. "You want to watch Nigella Lawson?"

"Don't forget Jamie Oliver." Papa grinned widely and falsely, and I didn't know what to think, but I just shook my head and changed the programme for him.

I looked at my dad again and at his suspiciously ruddy and pinched face. "Papa?"

"Yes, poppet?" he asked. His voice pitched a little higher than usual, and I began to worry.

"This thing you're worrying about - is it serious?"

He seemed to relax, and just shook his head. "Don't you worry, Charlie. It's nothing of consequence."

I watched him for a few more seconds before handing him the remote and shuffling back over to the kitchen. Since everything was already baking and getting ready and the salad was in the fridge, I pulled up a chair beside Ben and sat down. "Whatcha up to, Benny?" I asked cheerily.

Ben gestured to his phone. "Just checking my marks from my last exam."

That seemed innocent enough, but I looked down at the table and pursed my lips. The only things on it were the tablecloth and a tissue box. "Where's your laptop?" I asked curiously. Wasn't that what he went to his car to get?

It didn't escape my notice how Ben stilled momentarily before shrugging and avoiding my gaze. "I didn't need it. I don't want to be working right now."

I nodded and smiled. "That's good! You can just relax and hang out with me tonight."

Ben didn't change his stoic expression, but he did reach out and gripped one of my hands, bringing it near his mouth so he could press a small kiss on my knuckles. My face flamed when he winked.

My poor heart didn't stand a chance.

***

"Where are you from, Ben?" Papa asked. He sat across from me and Ben, but had his eyes trained on his plate of chicken pie.

"Manchester, like you two," he said smoothly.

I grinned inwardly. I loved how I knew that Ben was nervous only by the brusque quality of his voice. I was sure barely anybody else could tell that him being gruff and manly served as a cover for his anxiety. "And what's your major?"

"Computer science."

Papa looked up, impressed with him. That was the best thing Ben could've said, because Papa had majored in that in uni too. "Brilliant. So are you taking calculus? Which kind?"

"It's multivariable."

Papa winked at me. "Smart chap, eh, Charlie?"

I laughed. "He's extremely smart, Papa."

We spent a couple of minutes just eating. I peeked at Ben, and noticed his tight expression. I tapped his shoulder, and when he glanced at me, I smiled reassuringly. His shoulders eased almost imperceptibly, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"So, you liking the food, Ben?" Papa said a while later.

"Lottie made it, so I really do."

Upon hearing that, I accidentally hit my thigh against the underside of the table and closed my eyes at the sudden, sharp pain. I gripped my leg and sighed slightly.

Papa just grunted affirmatively at Ben's response, not noticing my current state. I opened my eyes and straightened, rubbing the sore spot gently.

"Are you okay?" Ben whispered in my ear. I could sense the beginnings of a laugh in his voice.

"I'll kiss you in front of my dad if you make fun of me," I warned. He couldn't take me by surprise like that! It literally wasn't good for my physical health.

Ben just touched my shoulder and turned back to his plate in time for my dad's next question.

"What do your parents do?"

Without flinching, Ben said, "My dad owns an automobile company and my mum helps manage it."

"You got a plan for the future?"

"Not currently, but I'm working on it."

"Any ideas?"

"I'm thinking about becoming a teacher." My eyebrows raised - a computer science teacher? Like in university? I hadn't known that. But then again, I hadn't asked.

"You have any siblings?"

"Just one wee brother."

"How old is he?"

"Seventeen."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty." I was impressed with the ease at which he answered every question my dad threw at him, because they came in rapid succession and were confusing me.

"Do you have a job?"

He nodded. "I watch over a little girl most days."

Papa grinned. "Like a nanny?"

Ben winced slightly. "Kind of?"

"There you go, Charlie! He likes kids! That's great for you, right? Haven't you always said that you want a lad who-"

"Papa," I interrupted, feeling mortified. Ben pursed his lips, and I just knew he was trying to stop from chuckling. I pinched his hip under the table, and he swatted me away.

My dad's grin just widened. "What's this little girl like, Ben?"

"Er...well she's really cheeky. She's really hyper all the time and loves sweets, like Lottie." I looked down at my plate to hide my smile. You could tell how much he cared about Queenie just by listening to him. "And she's pretty nice for a kid, always sharing her toys and playing with the loners at the park."

Papa looked from me to Ben a few times, his grin gone. I furrowed my eyebrows. Why was he making that face? He stood up and gathered his empty plate and utensils and stared menacingly at us. I reached under the table and grabbed Ben's hand, which was mildly sweaty. I would've laughed at his nerves had I not been worried too.

Abruptly, Papa broke into a wide grin "I like you, boy." Then he turned around and strode into the kitchen.

I breathed out and beamed. "Good job, Ben! You handled my dad really well!"

He squeezed my hand. "Are you sure?"

"He said he likes you. He's never said that to any boy he's ever met before!"

"Has there been a lot?" he asked, frowning.

I shook my head rapidly. "No, just when we go out to the shops or for dinner and boys talk to me, he never likes them. But he likes you. I knew he would!"

"Parents don't usually like me, so how did you know?"

"Obviously they have impaired judgment, then," I said impatiently. "And my dad doesn't."

Ben looked at me, and all the creases on his face smoothed out, and he let go of my hand only to lean towards me and wrap me in a hug. "Thanks," he murmured.

"For what?"

"I don't really know," he said. "I guess thanks for being you."