Florence's eyebrows lifted when he made his comment regarding her flat. He knew her too well, sometimes. Most of the time. She supposed it was rather hotel like, no personal possessions really. But they lifted even higher when his second comment followed. But the surprised expression was followed by a smirk and she simply shrugged her shoulders. If they were being honest, she'd been spending a fair bit of time in his current apartment anyway. With no romantic interludes, thank you. Just movies or television or, of course, chess. And talking. Rarely about the serious things, usually trivial things, but it was still talking.
The brush of his lips filled her with warmth and she couldn't deny wanting more. If she were more sure of herself, of where she stood with him, she'd have taken his face in her hands and simply snogged him right then and there. But no, it couldn't work that way. They had to take it slow. She had to make them both earn this if it was going to work. Yes, she'd come to the conclusion that she wanted back in his life. And, based on the last few minutes, she was relatively certain he wanted back in hers. But if they didn't work for it, it could fall apart again, just as easily. They'd both be miserable before long and she couldn't allow that. If they were going to do this, they needed to do it right.
"Brent," she supplied the name with a slight smile on her face. Oh, she remembered. It was the third time she'd seen him and only the second time they'd spoken, but she was already hooked. The cocky American with his incredible skill for the game that made her take notice from the very beginning. Freddie had a swagger to him, he always had. And Brent, for all his efforts, had simply been bland. Too prim and too proper and everything her mum had wanted for her and everything she didn't want for herself. "He wanted that night to be a date, you know. I was being all tolerant with him, but I was looking for an excuse to get out of there. So happens, he's the one who left. I can't imagine why..."
The look on her face was smug as she remembered the scene. Brent storming out, swearing rather loudly to the point where even the non-English speakers in the crowd could have a vague idea what he was saying. He'd actually flounced. But even then she'd known Freddie was right. If he had no other qualities for her to admire, he was at least damn good at the game. "I got stuck with the bill that night, you know. I should blame you for that."