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She put both her hands on the handle and his hands came around them, engulfing her fingers in warmth and a locked-tight grip.

‘On three, we turn and pull. One, two, thr—’

‘Eeee!’ With their combined action, somehow the door popped open like someone had magically buttered its hinges, sending Abel and Temperance crashing into the wall behind. Temperance’s head snapped backwards, catching her cheek on one of the stones that made up the ancient basement. ‘Ow, shit!’

Trying to untangle themselves from each other’s limbs on the floor, Temperance felt Abel’s hand snake up her neck, this thumb moving gently over her cheek. ‘Are you OK? Is it bleeding?’

She sat herself up. ‘I think it’s . . .’

‘Was it your head? You didn’t black out, did you?’

His hand was still there, cupping the back of her head, holding her upright almost. She felt herself sink back slightly into the strength of his arm. It felt good to let go for just that moment, not have to put on an act around him, not to pretend to be the steady one in this whole mess. She reached out one hand out to touch his crisp white shirt, the bow tie hanging loose just like she’d styled him to wear it, the slippery satin contrasting with the hard wall of muscle that hid underneath.

‘Tee? You don’t feel sleepy, do you? Don’t fall asleep. Look at me.’

Abel’s face filled her vision: squinting, looking between her eyes intently, his top teeth biting down on the corner of his mouth. How could anyone feel sleepy when their heart was rattling in their ribcage like it had just been jump-started with a car battery? She could see the rise and fall of his chest; wondered how his heart was behaving behind his ribs right now. There was a fuzzy light around the edge of her vision but it wasn’t any kind of head trauma, it was because her lungs were too scared to move and break this spell, so now she was running out of air.

Temperance looked deep into the green-grey eyes that she knew almost as well as her own. Almost-slate grey flecked with bursts of moss green. So much about Abel Gulliver was just as it had been. He cared about his family, he loved to surf, his smile – when it broke free – was just as luminous. That adventurous, open-hearted boy had to be in there somewhere, he had to. Still there behind the glares and the awkward silences and the staring into space. And as much as Temperance wanted to find any trace of her first love, that irrepressible teenager, she also wanted to explore the man he now was. The width of his shoulders, the strength in his back, the texture of stubble on his more angular jaw. Because as much as she told herself she didn’t care that he was curt and aloof and bored around her, that it would be great when he finally left the village again, when she got this close to Abel all she could think about was the crackle in the air between them, the invisible rope that he did his best every day to unknot. But they were in a tangle there was no way out of.

‘I’m here,’ she just-about whispered. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

‘Tee, I . . .’ Able let out a long, deep breath, looking down at her hand. His eyes half-closed, as if he’d felt a small jolt of pain. Then he shook his head just once, as if denying an argument going on inside his mind. Abel tilted his chin to one side and slowly pressed his lips against hers.

Her lips pushed back eagerly, feeling his fingers now moving through her hair. She moved up onto her knees to face him fully, never breaking contact, not caring that a stray piece of gravel was digging sharply into her skin. Here was the new Abel that she wanted to explore, now inviting her in. She wasn’t going to hesitate, the door could be shut in her face again in another heartbeat.

Temperance ran her hands along his forearms, over his biceps and to his shoulders, gripping him tight, fixing him in place so this moment would never end. Their mouths worked furiously together, picking up pace: tentative kisses swapped out for hungry ones. Temperance wanted to consume him: his lips, his skin, his muscle. She wanted to know every inch of him.

Abel’s hand cupped her chin, his thumb rubbing along her cheekbone, the rough callous on his palm now on her neck. He crushed his chest against hers, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her tight, all the way in. His hands roamed over her back as he murmured through his kisses.

Temperance wasn’t sure she was remembering to breathe, but her fingers were moving, tugging the shirt away from his waistband. Feeling the skin at the base of his spine and hearing his responding groan as she touched him.

Please don’t let this be a dream. Please don’t let this be a dream.

Suddenly, without saying a word, they were moving in seamless sync, lying down on the cold floor, Abel’s body moving to cover hers. It was like her fantasies on the sofa that night but better: it was real.

His hands were holding her hungrily, his kisses fast and feverish. She could feel how much he wanted her, pressing into her hip. Abel moved his kisses to her neck, giving what was something between a growl and moan into her skin. His fingers snuck underneath the halter neck of her dress at her collarbone and Temperance wished it wasn’t so well made, wished he could just break it free with one swift movement so more of her would be exposed to him. Temperance’s fingers dug through his hair, wanting to know every texture, every taste.

Abel’s hand was on her thigh now, sliding inside the tightly-fitting skirt. Higher, higher, his fingertips brushing the fabric of her underwear.

Something deep with Temperance loosened, melted, as if a wave was washing down the sandcastle she’d built over the last twelve years to protect her heart. Her hands moved across his back, pulling him closer to her.

‘Abel.’

She whispered his name.

And the spell was broken.

Abel pulled away, sat on his heels, his eyes blinking and his head shaking. ‘No.’

Temperance felt the chilly cellar air flood around her, the absence of his body and his heat. ‘Wait, I—’

‘What have you done?’ He looked stricken, his eyes watery.

‘What have I done?!’ Every inch of Temperance’s skin felt alive still, but the instantaneous wrench from connection to isolation had her head spinning, her emotions leaping around from lust to rage. ‘I didn’t do anything – you kissed me!’

Abel was still shaking his head, tucking his shirt back in furiously. ‘We can’t do this.’

‘I hate to break it to you, but we just did.’