"Yeah, me too"<br/><br/>Gwen looked up at him and wondered what in the name of all the biscuits in Britain that meant? She didn't know what it meant, but she knew that she appreciated him saying it. It was like an affirmation, she supposed, and Gwen felt a sudden rush of gratitude to him for that affirmation. He was offering his money, and his time, based on barely knowing her and seeing a few of the things she'd made. He was taking a gamble on her, and she knew it. She wanted to say something, to thank him, but Gwen was doing her best to simply hold on to her emotions here.<br/><br/>And then, she felt his hands on her. He grabbed her pyjamas, his hands on her hips, and he pulled her close to him. Gwen felt his arms wrap around her and then she heard his whispered voice. It was too much, and the control she had slipped, then slid from her as she felt the sting of hot tears on her cheeks. For a moment, just the briefest of moments, she held on to him, her arms wrapping around his waist and her head burying in his shoulder. Tears fell and she sobbed against him. Frustration at the situation with Martin, at work, at her husband … frustration at her life and how she felt she was failing Toby on a daily basis had built inside her and Gwen felt them release in this moment as he held her close.  It was a moment of release, a letting go of frustrations which had built in her over more time than she cared to admit.<br/><br/>It was an inevitable reaction and she didn't fight it, or him. Instead, she simply held on and felt the tension leave her.<br/><br/>But, equally, she didn't let it last long. Gwen was a fighter and she was not prepared to weakly cling to anyone. She had, once, clung to her husband. She had needed to - or so she believed - and that foolishness was what had led her hear. To this place where she had needed to look up on YouTube how to swap fuses and construct shelves. But, she<b> had</b>looked it up, and she had learned and, more than anything else, Gwen Whitmore would never again rely on someone else because she could not do something. So, after a very brief moment, she sniffed, hugged Eli tight, and then pulled back just a little; they were still standing close, her hand remained on his waist.<br/><br/>Gwen lifted her head to look at Eli and she smiled. Her green eyes were watery, but she had a determined set to her jaw and she spoke with a quiet certainty. "Thank you, Eli. I'm not going to apologise," she wondered just how she'd got herself in the situation of standing, hips touching and hand on the waist of Eli Primeau, in her hallway, with her in her oversized pyjamas. Her hair was loose and, poor man, had probably been in his face, and she wore no make up. Bare feet meant that she didn't even have a heel to bring her to closer to his height. But here she was. "Because I know I don't need to." Damn him, but she could simply gaze into his eyes and she would be lost.<br/><br/>Except, Gwen knew what it mint to be cheated on, and she wasn't ever,<b> ever</b>being that person. So, she lifted her heels and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. "So I'll just say thank you," she whispered.<br/><br/>Then, she carefully and deliberately stepped out of his arms. "So. What about meeting on Thursday, before class? That should give us both time to do what we need, and gather information?" She looked at him and smiled. "How about in the café across from campus, for coffee?"<br/><div style="text-align: center">~~~---~~~​</div><br/>When Thursday came, Gwen made sure that she looked well-turned out. She'd spent time on her outfit, choosing carefully. In the end she went with a nice, slightly full almost 50s-style skirt in a shade of deep green. A green blouse was tucked in to the tight waistband and she wore pretty black stockings with a seam up the back and a pair of mid-heel shoes. Her red hair was held back in a loose bun and she had with her a small folder of papers for him. She'd spent the last few days very deliberately<b> not</b>thinking about Eli. Not wondering about him. Not looking at her phone and wondering if she should text him. Oh no. No, she hadn't done that at all.<br/><br/>Or, more precisely, she had. But she absolutely wasn't prepared to admit it. It was pure coincidence, too, that she'd treated herself to a nice conditioning treatment for her hair, and painted her fingernails.  As she opened the door to "The Hub" café, and swept her eyes around looking for him, she told herself that most firmly.<br/><br/>Pure coincidence.