Page 112 of People Skills

‘Oh, my god. Wow.’

‘Happy birthday,’ Xavier says, smiling, his eyes bright.

‘You made me a birthday cake.’

‘I did.’

‘A fancy birthday cake.’

‘Salted-chocolate layer cake with whipped ganache.’

‘I am impressed.’

‘I like impressing you,’ he says in a low voice, moving closer to me.

My heart beats faster. I need to keep the focus on the cake.

‘This is incredible. You really can bake.’

‘It’s my second attempt today,’ he says.

‘You made this twice?’

‘I did. The first time was a failure. But I figured it out.’

‘You made it twice.’ I don’t know why I feel a little bit like crying. I must be hormonal. Get it together. I swallow down the hard lump in my throat.

I have moved closer to him, drawn like a magnet.

‘It’s not that big a deal,’ he says.

‘How did you even know it was my birthday?’

‘I asked around. And you said, when I moved in—’

‘I remember,’ I say.

We’re standing very close now, and I tug on his apron. ‘You look good in this.’

‘Thank you.’ He tucks my hair behind my ears.

No. No. Step back. There’s still time to get out of this, to go back to being friends, housemates, professionals.

But. The apron. The cake. He baked it twice. Damn it.

I find myself pressed against the bench, and he’s not-quite-but-almost pressed against me.

‘What else would you like for your birthday?’ he asks.

‘I would like,’ I say, and pause. With his shaved head, his eyes are so hard to avoid now. They are always there, looking at me, making my stomach dip. He leans his arms on the bench, caging me in.

‘I know what I would like,’ he says.

‘What’s that?’

‘To take you into my bedroom and show you a nice time for your birthday.’

‘A nice time?’