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“Start to believe that you deserve the good things,” she finished and walked off.
Hugo picked up his fork, stabbed it into the cake. “I agree. Massive fraud.” He grinned as he shoved a mouthful of vanilla goodness into his mouth.
“Totally,” I said.
And we ate cake. For dinner.
Hugo
Our gloved hands stayed tightly knitted together all the way home. I’d started to get used to it now, the way he’d touch me. Those strong arms around my shoulders when we rode on the Tube. His warm breath against my skin. His lips dropping random kisses into my hair.
To be honest, I’d never had this so I didn’t know what it meant. If this was just the way Ben was with people he liked or if he actually meant it—the boyfriend bit.
He was hard to read. Well, he wasn’t. He’d slept in Mark’s bed. Now I slept in his, but there had still only been that one proper kiss and I was starting to feel uneasy about where I stood.
I wasn’t ready to throw myself into a relationship. My therapist would have a fit if I did because that was one of the things he’d talked about. The danger of rebound relationships, of crashing and burning from exhaustion of trying to lead a perfectly functional life when I was nowhere ready for that.
I’d briefly spoken to my parents earlier. My dad had called to remind me about my upcoming appointment at the clinic. Follow-ups. Medication reviews. He’d made me laugh, and it had felt surprisingly good to stand there in the sunshine, my parents beaming back at me from the screen. I’d felt happy, and I looked it too, my mum had told me.
Yet I felt out of control…in a controlled way. For the first time in a long while, I could see solutions to my problems that didn’t involve trying to avert disaster. No amount of steps could save me from what I knew I needed to ask Ben, the things we needed to put words to. Those words had swirled around my head all day.
When we got home, he unlocked the door, and I shut it behind us, turned the lock and put on the chain. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud as I stuffed my gloves into my pockets.
Kicking my shoes off, I slipped my coat from my shoulders and hung it on the hook. Ben dropped his jacket in the trail of mess in the hallway, followed by his jumper and jeans.
The flat was cold, and I still hadn’t warmed up fully from earlier on. My skin prickled with goosebumps as I tugged the hoodie over my head and immediately regretted it.
“Gonna grab a shower,” Ben said, dropping his boxers before disappearing into the bathroom. Ben. Naked. I don’t know why I just stood there staring at the closed door, like the image of him had suddenly burnt itself into my retinas. He wasn’t bothered about wandering around in his boxers or changing his top in front of me, so I’d seen him half-naked before. But seeing his back…and his bum…and his legs, my brain had gone into some kind of never-ending loop of thoughts that I didn’t recognise.
Okay, that wasn’t strictly true. I did recognise it. It was called attraction, and I hadn’t felt it for years. Which was strange, but then this was my Ben, who held my hand and fed me and looked after me and said things that made me all warm on the inside and kissed my forehead and hugged me.
I hadn’t realised what I was doing, because my brain was already way ahead of my conscious thoughts and in control of my arms and legs, as I was now undressing, hobbling along the hallway, my teeth chattering with cold as I dropped my underpants to the floor and opened the bathroom door.
Warm steam engulfed me like a calming blanket as I shivered with every step I took towards the shower door. I held out my hand like in a trance, not quite understanding what I was doing.
Here. Right here, my brain instructed as I stepped under the water and finally dared to look up.
Him. Facing me. His arms reached for me, tugging me tightly against his skin.
Warmth. All that warmth.
“You’re cold,” he whispered. I could barely make it out with the cascade of water over our heads and stood there, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing.
Here.
Right here.
His hands kept moving, and it took me a moment to register that he was washing me, carefully smoothing his soapy hands down my back, around my hips in calm, steady movements as if this was normal when it was anything but. This was a brand-new level of insanity, and clearly, I was losing all my remaining marbles. A sigh escaped me.
He squirted something into his hands. Shampoo. His fingertips on my scalp. Slow, firm movements. I closed my eyes because it was just too much. Too much sensation. Too much.
I needed to tell him, but…words. I didn’t have them.
He turned me around so that my back rested against his chest while he rinsed his hair. The scent of soap around me, warm and spicy and…
Fuck.
He didn’t mean it, I knew that, but his dick briefly brushed against my buttock. One small touch and I froze in instant fear, panic shooting through my veins. I had to get out of here.
