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I ignore the comment. "Is the semi-nakedness to try and distract me?"
He smirks. "Possibly."
I make a ‘humph’ noise and return to my unpacking.
Dylan pulls items from one of the bags and inspects them. "I should give you some money. I'm eating your food."
"Maybe buy your own?"
He makes no response. I straighten and take a jar of sauce from the table.
"I can't. Can I?" he asks.
"You can't hide forever, Dylan."
The old, tired look reappears and he runs his tongue along his teeth. "I know."
Obviously, he's not elaborating—or leaving to buy food—so I carry on, ignoring my shaking hands and queasy feeling in my stomach.
"If you bought all this food, I presume that you're staying?" he asks.
"Of course, why would I go?"
"Because you said you're uncomfortable with...this."
"There's room here for both of us. You can pay me for food if you want." Sod the healthy food; I need biscuits. I tear open a packet of chocolate digestives with my teeth.
A small smirk appears on Dylan's face. "Sky..."
"What?"
"You. You're so natural and wonderful and downright fucking funny."
"Don't start the games again, please." I shove a biscuit into my mouth and flick the switch on the kettle.
Grinning, he grabs a biscuit and imitates me.
"Funny? You mean you’re not used to girls who eat?" I ask. "Do you prefer the skinny ones who starve themselves?"
"This is about yesterday still? Is that what you think? I don't prefer skinny girls." He places a hand over mine.
I want to pull my fingers away, but his touch and his closeness is annoyingly soothing.
"Please don't," I say quietly.
"Hmm." Dylan rubs a biscuit crumb from the corner of my mouth and I tense. "Okay, I'll cook something, to say thank you for sharing with me."
"No, it’s okay..."
"Do you think I can't cook?"
"I think you don't cook much, Mr Rock God."
"Oh, yeah?" He straightens. "Challenge accepted."
I wipe my hands on my shorts. "Okay, cook. I'm cold and need to change."
After extricating myself from the presence of the man who I resolved was not going to affect me again, I stomp upstairs. I’m annoyed with myself for still wanting his hands and mouth on mine—and for still wanting to know what sex with Dylan would be like. Talk about mood swings. I don't thinkIknow what I want anymore.
