“I can’t move. I’m worried my head will actually explode if I get up. I think this fort is my home now.”
Connor laughs quietly to himself, then puts one hand along my back and one under my knees. Panic washes through me, making my nausea ten times worse as I realise what he’s doing.
“No, no, no! I don’t like to be picked up!” I try to roll away from his arms, but he’s got a firm hold on me and scoops me up anyway.
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he mutters.
I remember now that he and Rhys had disagreed about it the day we went to collect my stuff.
“Seriously, please put me down!”
“Why?” He sounds a little annoyed, but I’m not sure if it’s at me or not.
“Because I don’t like being lifted up.”
“Why?”
I speak before I have chance to think it through. “Because I’mtoo fucking heavy for someone to lift! You’ll end up dislocating your shoulders or something if you don’t put me down.”
Connor looks at me with a mixture of compassion and frustration. “Tilly… That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He carries me out of the fort while I keep my body tense, as if it would make me any lighter. Connor carries me over to the couch, careful not to jostle me around too much, and puts me down gently.
“Look at that!” He sarcastically looks down to inspect both of his arms. “No dislocated shoulders! Seems you’re not that heavy after all.”
I try to roll my eyes at him, but my head starts to throb again mid-roll. Connor must notice my wince, because he gestures towards the coffee table where he’s set out a box of paracetamol along with a glass of water.
“I’m still angry about you carrying me.” I glare at him. “But I’ll take the pain killers, thank you.”
He waits for me to pop two out and hands me the water. Then he throws me a blanket (it was actually the roof of the fort) and disappears into the kitchen. He returns seconds later with a tray loaded down with bacon and egg sandwiches, bottles of Coke and mugs of tea. It’s the hangover jackpot.
“How aren’t you suffering as much as I am?” I ask him as I drain half a bottle of Coke. “I’m pretty sure we drank about the same amount.”
“Yeah, but that’s a lot for your tiny girl body to handle. I have a lot of weight on you, so it doesn’t affect me as much. Speaking of your tiny girl body, eat up!” He hands me a plate with a sandwich but notices the look on my face and sighs. “I’ll make you a salad for dinner to make up for it.”
Reluctantly, I take the plate and bite into the sandwich. Connor beams and sits beside me on the couch to eat his own sandwich. My stomach feels better already.
“So, do you want to go shopping today or leave it for later in the week?” Connor asks and takes a sip of his tea.
“What do you mean?”
“Clothes shopping,” he says, as if it’s obvious. Seeing my confusion, he continues. “Last night you said you needed to go shopping for something to wear to your work thing and I said I’d take you. Don’t you remember?”
“No,” I choke out around a mouthful of bread. “You don’t need to do that, I’ll just order something online.”
We both sit and eat in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before Connor speaks again, with something like guilt tingeing his voice.
“Is it because I joked about going to the lingerie shop the other day? I didn’t mean to make you feel—”
“What? No!” I put my plate down and turn to look at him. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then what is it? I thought we were friends now?” He puts down his own plate and turns so we’re facing each other, knees touching. His hands move, and for a second, I think he’s going to reach out and grab mine, but he quickly pulls them back and puts them on his lap. Connor looks me in the eyes, and I find I can’t look away. “Please talk to me.”
I don’t know if it’s the remaining alcohol in my system or if I’m just letting my guard down a teensy bit, but I find I want to talk to him. Not about everything, but I could let him see a small part of me. I take a steadying breath before speaking.
“I don’t handle clothes shopping very well.”
Connor doesn’t react other than shuffling slightly closer towards me.
