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Morning After Pasta

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Observing Monte pace in front of the greasy spoon diner infinitely entertained her as she spied on him from her hidden location down the street. His lithe, blonde form circled with intensity, his trench coat snapping out at each turn to billow at the crisp morning air. She likened him to watching a mad, entrapped animal of the feline persuasion: around and around, his smooth, precise strides unvarying while he chain smoked, heedlessly littering the butts.

"Damn Brits," Lucy mumbled to herself, shaking her head but unable to stop the sly smile from her lips. Supposed to have met him for coffee and donuts over an hour ago, she chickened out a block before the diner and waited to see if he'd show first. He did. He entered, sat by the large picture window, ordered coffee and waited and waited until his patience obviously wore thin, but he stayed on; hence the irate, cancer-inducing pacing. Why didn't he leave? Surely the message was clear enough. Any other man would've departed within the first thirty minutes once he understood a woman ditched him, but not Monte. Not this frustrating, pathologically lying, obstinate, amazing, rather unusually handsome man.

"Fuck," she cursed and kicked the wall sheltering her from Monte's view. Now she felt bad. Why must he be so fucking sincere all of a sudden? And such a great kisser, too? She pulled her vintage coat snugger as chills from more than the cold ran down her spine. Barely a full day since she slept with him and already she missed how his body felt next to hers, inside of hers, wrapped around hers.

"Oh, man, this sucks," she moaned as delicious memories of their lazy early morning together replayed. How his long, talented digits reached and caressed all sorts of places on her and in her. Looking back down the street, she checked, and sure enough Monte continued pacing. How long would he orbit that patch of sidewalk before he quit? Unexpectedly Lucy feared discovering the answer because she knew if Monte left now he'd never forgive her. He might not have any pride as he claimed, but Lucy doubted even Monte tolerated direct insults.

'Time to fish or cut bait, Lucy.' She snuck down the street, careful to keep from his sight until a few feet away.

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Unfucking Believable! Twice, twice she'd stood him up! Or at least one and a half since technically she was only fantastically late arriving at city hall to marry him, but bloody fucking hell...what did it take to get this woman's commitment to a fucking promise? Monte pivoted on the ball of his foot, his coat cracking against his calf as his spun sharply 180 degrees. He inhaled deeply on his seventh or eighth fag. He'd need new shoes before morning was out if he kept up this tempo, and another carton of cigarettes.

"Fucking bitch," he mumbled, "should've known she'd quit me like this. I'm a fucking git for trying again, for thinking that she'd..." he ran his fingers through his mussed hair, the digits trembling faintly. Too much caffeine, too much nicotine, too much stress, and not nearly enough sleep, but...

His mind ceased ranting while he remembered one of the reasons he lost sleep. Lucy, God... the brazen, maddening, and beautifully passionate, naked Lucy wrapped in his arms not more than a day ago. She made him think and feel things he had no proper business thinking and feeling. He was a bloody con man and gambler, what right did she have making him want to...want to...

"Bloody hell, I am so fucked," he muttered as he turned once more, his head bowed, not watching ahead.

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"Monte," a woman's voice said, Lucy's, and he froze mid-step his head swinging up sharply. Myriad thoughts and emotions swirled in his heart and mind: she's here, what happened, fucking bitch, relief, anger, lust, spite. The winner...he sneered, flicked his fag at her feet and said:

"Working on another magic trick are you, then?"

"Monte," she said again, softly as if trying to apologize without the words. He even saw how distraught and pained her eyes looked, yet couldn't help it what came spewing from his vocal cords.

"Question is: which trick you trying out? Disappearing or reappearing because you cock up both, Lucy." Monte heard her quick intake of breath, watched her eyes sharpen, and thought he'd done it. She'd hate him now, perhaps it was best; they'd move on, forget each other. She'd find a man worthy of her, become famous, and he would...well, he would do what he did best. Fuck up his life.

What an asshole! Lucy thought, fuming as she glared into his odd eyes boring back into hers. Then remembered why he was so pissed off. He had a right to be angry with her for sort of standing him up, even if she was only really, really late because she wasn't sure what she wanted because, well...just because. Part of her wanted to run, part wanted to slap him, but most grabbed her little shred of sanity and guided her lips.

"I deserved that. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, Monte," she answered him with what she felt was the perfect balance of pride and humility. He blinked, his lips opened as if to speak then he blinked again.

"You don't have anything else to say?" she asked, careful to keep her tone non-threatening. Wouldn't do to pick a fight after she just bolstered all her courage to walk down here and face him. They stared at one another for a full minute then he shuffled his feet, combed his hair with his fingers, and nodded towards the diner entrance.

"Right, then, you hungry? I did offer coffee and donuts."

"Yeah, I am." Lucy smiled, her eyes sparkling, and Monte relaxed, his shoulders visibly sinking to a normal level. He turned to stand even with her and held out his elbow in a gentlemanly fashion, she quirked an eyebrow.

"Give a fellow a break, Lucy. You're the one who's late and I've yet to hear a reason."

She sighed, "You're right, sorry." She slipped her arm through his, "Thanks."

"You're welcome, I'm really trying here."

"I know, but that's not what I was thanking you for." His turn to quirk an eyebrow at her, inquisitively rather than sarcastically.

"Do tell," he said.

"I just...well," Lucy stammered, blushing, "just thanks for waiting for me to stop being such a bitch this morning."

"Ah..." he nodded, "well, turn about is fair and all that." Monte released her elbow and faced her, clasping her hands in his. "Lucy, you likely know me better in this week than most who've known me my whole life. You can believe me or not," he added at her skeptical expression, "I deserve...well, I deserve it so don't you worry about it. I'm just asking you for a proper chance to prove that I can be..." he struggled for his next words staring at the beauty gazing up at him.

"Better? More?" she supplied. He grinned and squeezed her hands.

"Yes, precisely."

She shrugged, "I suppose I can do that, for now," she quickly added at the slightly feral look in his eyes. Wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close he said:

"It's all the time I need, darling." Then he kissed her, formed her body to his and Lucy knew she'd never find another man as challenging and wonderfully annoying as Monte.

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Of course nothing belongs to me, I've been wanting to add to this great little movie. Hope ya'll enjoy this little one-shot.

Please Review and let me know what ya'll think, especially if you like Linguini Incident

:o)