I put the controllers down, turning away from the screen, running both hands over my face. Did I just ask Will on a date? No. It’s a friend date. Nothing serious.
The message pings.
I pause, staring at my reflection.
I’ll be there in an hour.
I punch the air, letting out a cheer, thankful that he can’t see me and nobody else can hear me.
It’s a date.
A date.
Heart thudding, I press my fists to my lips.
Pokémon game abandoned, I get up and head to the shower, but not before I play the Pokémon theme tune on repeat. Tonight will go swimmingly. It has to.
Chapter Thirty-Four
WILL
Day Seven
You will always be my first love, Will.
Sam’s voice drifts from his kitchen, singing notes in tune like he’s actually a serious singer. He’s singing ‘Milkshake’ by Kelis.
‘As long as I’m the only boy in your yard, that’s all that matters.’
Sam’s laugh reaches me. ‘My milkshake brings Will to the yard.’
The apartment, spotlessly clean, smells of garlic. Sam is cooking chicken breasts, and as he sings along to the next pop song that comes on his Alexa, he slices lemons.
Earlier in my hotel room, I’d paced back and forth, messaging Sam like I was cool, calm and collected. But my stomach had rippled when he asked me on a date. I’d stared at the screen with a lollipop in my mouth, dumbfounded. It had fallen out and landed in a sticky mess on my thigh. Not the kind of sticky mess I usually go for.
It can’t be a real date, surely?
When Sam welcomed me into his apartment dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, I averted my eyes, but I did take a quick glance as we climbed the stairs. Even his back muscles had muscles. It left me with a fire inside me that I didn’t feel when looking at Ollie.
Despite wanting to help Sam with anything cooking related, my nerves won’t let me. My mind keeps drifting to what I should do next. See out this God-forsaken holiday and go to Ollie’s wedding, or give up and go home?
But going home also means leaving Sam.
‘Dinner is served, pumpkin bum.’ Sam places two steaming dishes on the table, lit with candles. ‘Greek chicken. Which is chicken with chives, garlic and a drizzle of lemon with some potatoes.’
‘Pumpkin bum?’
‘Our sweet pet names.’
‘Okay, dinky donut.’
Settling down opposite one another, I take a bite, closing my eyes, letting out a moan of relief.
‘Make that noise again,’ Sam says.
‘Saucy,’ I joke.
‘Is it that good?’
