“Oh, thanks,” I reply, turning away. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tilt my head up to take a deep breath and exhale. “Shit.”
“Everything all right?”
“Nope,” I reply, digging my phone free to type out a quick text. His fingers wrap around my elbow. “Power’s cut, and itwouldbe the day after I did a freezer shop.” My lips tremble, but I refuse to get upset over this.
“Do you want to go empty your freezer and bring it to mine?” I’m taken aback. “Oh, come on, we’re friends. You’ve met my parents—I’m not a psycho,” he says, flat.
I smile. “Are you sure?”
At his nod, we walk to the main door and up the three flights of stairs to my flat. I pause, my key in the lock. I’ve never had anyone in here except for Marcus.
“Excuse any mess,” I say, my unease surfacing. I may not have much, but I’m house-proud nonetheless.
My hallway is dark when we enter. I hear the sound of the door click shut behind me, and then his footsteps as he follows me into the kitchen. After clicking the torch on my phone, I look around in a drawer that holds anything and everything from hair bands to bin liners. Then I pull out some of the heavy-duty freezer bags.
When I turn around, he’s gazing into the living room, and that’s when I see the space where my TV used to be. I swallow down the lump in my throat and open the freezer to pull out frozen vegetables and meat.
His phone torch joins mine as we work in silence.
“Where are you and Molly going to stay tonight?” he asks.
“Molly’s staying at her dad’s. I’ll stay here. I have plenty of candles, and the fridge stuff should keep until morning.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What?” I ask, standing up, bags at my feet.
“It’s not safe—all those naked flames.” He looks around, shining his phone around as he takes in all my candles; I may have a bit of a collection.
“I’ll be fine, Oliver.”
“You can stay at mine,” he says in a rush.
“No, it’s fine, but thank you.”
“Come on, you’ve been to my house. I don’t live like a pig. And it’s one night. There’s even a lock in the spare room, in case you’re worried I can’t keep my hands to myself.”
I audibly sigh. “I never implied any of the above. Why do you do that? I’m not the stuck-up cow people make me out to be.” He’s starting to piss me off.
He scrubs his hand over his face. “I know, and I’m sorry… But I do have a thing against candles—it’s a long story—but I’d feel better if you just stayed somewhere else until the power is back up.”
I don’t have anywhere else to go. I refuse to go to my parents’, and if I went to Marcus, it would only confuse things more. My fingers fiddle with my watch. “Only if you’re sure.”
He nods, and I move past him to grab a few necessities. I hear him moving about while I rummage and want to cringe. I forgot to close the door to the box room. I stuff clothes into a bag and make quick work of snatching what I need from the bathroom.
“Did you paint this?” he calls out.
I stop and stand in the threshold as he studies my canvas. “Yeah.”
He turns to me, but I can’t see his eyes in this light. “It is phenomenal,” he says, and I’m glad it’s dark—my cheeks burn from his compliment.
“Thanks,” I croak out. It’s my last love and my favourite, but I refuse to let it go for anything less than the asking price. And since I’m out of art supplies until it sells, I can’t paint anything else.
“You should sell it,” he says, turning back and flashing a photograph of it.
“Oi, copyright much,” I say, laughing. “And I’m planning on selling it. It’s my last piece.”
“Wow. Do you have an online store or something?” he asks, joining me as I make my way back to the kitchen.
