This standalone story is about 13500 words long.
Annie was surprised when Mark was first invited round for dinner. She did not feel anything else when they were introduced across the table, and afterwards were told to go upstairs and do homework together. Her feelings would change later when he gave her a bunch of flowers.
She took Mark up to her room, feeling shy as she invited him in. She liked pink, so the room was pink with some stuffed toys on the bed. I wonder what he thinks of it? It's my room, just where I want to be, nothing to do with him, she answered herself. She had seen Mark at school, the same year as her, but had never spoken to him. He was just one of the other pupils, not in her circle and she never thought about him. Her textbooks were neatly lined up on the shelving with decorations and two jars of flowers, and of course her special pink-and-blue folders. One with a pink heart on, for her wedding plans, and the other for cookery had a coloured cake on the blue covers. Mark seemed overwhelmed, but it was just the way she was. She didn't care what people thought, as long as she was a good daughter, was polite, and as long as her parents loved her.
Homework turned out to be fine, they were good at different subjects and helped each other.
"What do you think of Mark?" Asked her father, seated at the head of the dining table, the next day. Annie thought. He was good looking, blackish hair with a fringe, he looked clean, his clothes were smart she supposed, not untidy or dirty. She didn't like untidy or dirty. He had brothers, while she was an only child. They had found that much about each other. Mark had been OK to talk to, but she didn't see they had much in common.
Annie shrugged. "He's OK. I'm better than him at Maths. He knows some Japanese, it's very cool." She wondered why dad was asking.
"I'm pleased that you like him. His family and ours are business associates. I know his father from my old university."
Her mother joined in, "We will have him round again. I do hope you both get on."
So, they were supposed to be friends for some vague business reason. She understood that and felt she would try to help with it, that was what a good daughter should do.
Mark and his parents visited her house for dinner again. It became a regular event, routine. Sometimes only Mark, sometimes his parents too. She was neutral to Mark and at school never went out of her way to talk to him.
At one joint dinner everything changed. Just before the family sat, Mark had given her a bunch of white flowers, lilies. She was surprised and became aware she was very excited, blushing and sweating, her heart thumping fast. I'm having a panic attack, she thought. No, she realised, it was something else. She was delighted and looked at his face closely; something changed, she was not sure what. She felt shy now and happy too. She looked down at the flowers, then around at her family. Her father and mother both looking pleased, her father actually smiling for once. She looked back to Mark. He was looking at the floor, not meeting her eyes.
"You should thank him, Anne. Where are your manners?" Her mother said happily.
"Thank you Mark. They're lovely." She smelt them again, but they had no scent.
Mark didn't say anything, still looking down. Her mother spoke again, "I'll put them in water for you, love. They're beautiful."
"No! I want to hold them. They're mine." She startled everyone, including herself, with the emphatic response, taking her place at the table, the flowers across her lap. They had shed some yellow powder, pollen she realised, across her skirt and knees. She didn't care, they were lovely, feeling so pleased. Mark had given her these; she looked at him again, the way his eyes looked and his dark-brown hair, slightly mussed up. She smiled at him, and now he was looking back at her.
"I'm pleased you like them. Well done, Mark." Her father added. Her attention was on Mark's face, she hardly heard her father. At least her father hadn't scolded her for speaking loudly at the dinner table. Daughters were supposed to be demure in formal settings, she knew that.
After that, things changed with Mark. He still came round but the easy chatting and doing homework together – she was still much better than him at Maths so she could help him – seemed more constrained. She was always both expecting something and eager to do what he asked. She would try to anticipate what he might want, like getting snacks ready in the kitchen for half-way through the evening, or putting a cold water-bottle in the fridge ready for him. He never seemed that interested in her, but she felt she was ready for and wanted his interest.
She didn't tell him, but she had done a picture of her husband in her wedding folder. She wasn't good at drawing, so this was definitely just for her, but it was labelled 'Mark'.
At the end-of-year prom, Mark talked with her and they danced once. She was a little giddy, the room going away somewhere, and looked only at him. and then thought vaguely about kissing him. She had never kissed anyone, so the thought surprised her. He didn't kiss her though and still didn't seem interested in her; he was more interested in a girl with blonde hair, pretty, one of the smarter set, and better groomed than her. She saw them together from across the hall later. Mark and the other girl were kissing, sitting together at the outer, darker, edge of the room. She was disturbed and somehow upset, as if the girl was taking something of hers. She put it out of her mind, he was a little older than her and it wasn't her place to object. Later on, when alone, she wondered about what she wanted.
Things stayed hanging like that, unresolved, as if she knew that something more was supposed to happen, until they both were in the second year of university.
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Ever since she had been at university Annie had found she was not interested in other boys or girls. People sometimes came up to her, in a bar or after a lecture. She felt happy to talk to them but never made more of a connection. She had tried kissing a boy, once, at a party. It had been OK, messy, and she hadn't liked the taste. She only had done it because other girls were trying it too. Whenever someone came up to her she felt only slightly interested and she had never repeated the kiss. Sometimes she wondered if she was completely asexual. She wondered what that spark was that others had; they moved in couples seeming sometimes to be trying to merge together. She would have liked that but never knew how to make it happen, however, it made her wonder whether she was normal. She had got to eighteen without any relationships or even a close friendship.
Mark was the exception. She always felt something, strange and hot, when she saw him, only him. When she saw him with another girl she was jealous. It was unpleasant and surprising. Mark was supposed to be hers. She just had always known that.
In her room she had thought about steps to make Mark notice her. She had put on, as she always did, modest and smart clothes. She despised girls who dressed in a slutty manner. She wanted to be well dressed always, her standard wear was a smart blouse and a navy mid-length skirt. She didn't know how other women made themselves look attractive, even her makeup seemed to make her too pale. She looked at her face, long and serious, always looking washed out. Other girls had brown eyes like her. She combed her hair, dark and neatly falling to her shoulders and tried to smile. If she smiled she could look attractive, for Mark.
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Once she had gone looking for him, trying to get his attention. He had humiliated her.
Annie winced as she recalled it, seeing in the mirror the corners of her mouth turning down. Now she realised she was going to relive the event again.
The memory played back in her head as vividly as when it happened. It was at Uni. She had hesitated then walked over to Mark and the girl with him.
"Hey, Annie." He had said in an offhand manner. She didn't know the girl, not on her course, that was all she knew. The girl looked average, brownish hair, not groomed all that well, and in the usual university fashion of a top and jeans, casual. She found she couldn't say anything in front of them and looked back and forth between the two. The other girl had looked hostile.
