Page 51 of One for the Road
I almost laughed because I couldn’t even safely do that when, I knew with absolute certainty, I’d come to the thought of her face.
That felt wrong. Crossing an invisible line.
Fuck.I dragged a hand across my mouth.
That threadbare T-shirt was currently a crumpled mess on my floor. Her blonde hair darkening with water, sticking to her shoulders, her curved body growing hot and pink beneath my shower spray. Would she use my shower gel? My shampoo? Wash away that sugar-syrup scent that hit me square between the eyeballs every time I got within touching distance?
Of course she would. All she’d carried with her was a towel and clean clothes. When she returned, she’d smell like me. My pulse thundered at the prospect.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure if that would make my recent . . . attraction better or worse. It was like owning a pet gremlin: just when I thought I had it under control, it got wet and the bloody thing multiplied.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” I hissed to myself.
I shouldn’t have held her hand. Definitely shouldn’t have kissed her. Shouldn’t have volunteered to spend more time with her at all. This was pointless. A distraction I didn’t want.
Needing something to do, I closed the connecting door with a firm click, like I could shut my temptation away on the other side of it.
There, this thin scrap of wood and plasterboard should help.
Now what? Memorise her bookshelves? Roll around in her bedsheets? Steal a lock of hair to add to a shrine while “Creep” by Radiohead blasted? Might as well let the gremlins have some fun now that they were out to play.
“Why are you in my house?” Teddy’s groggy voice cut any thoughts of theft off at the knees.
In rumpled pyjamas, bunny hanging precariously from her fingertips, her pointed stare could give Gollum a run for his money. “How long have you been standing there?”
“I heard you call yourself a fucking idiot.”Excellent. She said it without inflection too, as though this was how she began every Saturday morning, with her strange neighbour in her home, ranting at himself like a madman.
I rolled my tongue over my teeth. “Maybe we keep that between us, yeah?”
“Okay.” She didn’t move.
I pointed over my shoulder to the door. “Your mum is using my shower; she’ll be back in a few minutes.” She nodded. We continued to stare at each other. I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Was she waiting for me to dismiss her? “Don’t you want to play with your toys or something?”
“I just woke up.”
So . . .no?
Didn’t kids usually want to play with their toys all the time?What the hell did I know?
“What would your mum do if she was here?”
“Hug me and ask if I slept well.”Oh good, I was getting the full list. “Then she’d brush my hair because it gets tangled at night.” She pointed to what did look like a very ratty braid. “After that she’d make me breakfast.”
“Let’s start there. What do you eat?” I moved into the messy kitchen, swiped the mess from Isla’s baking into my hand, then dumped it into the bin. Teddy turned on the spot, tracking me like a well-trained hunter.
“I don’t know. Whatever Mummy makes for me.”
I opened cupboards at random, finding nearly all of them empty except a jar of instant coffee I snagged for myself. “Which is? Toast, cereal, fruit? Give me something, kid.” Christ, I was bad at this. Now I realised why Heather never asked me to watch the twins. The ten minutes I spent with my child patients wasnotthe same thing. At all.
“Cereal.”
“Excellent.” That I could work with. Grabbing the half-full box Isla had been eating from, I ignored the sugar content listed on the side of the box and poured a bowlful, adding the last of the milk from the fridge. “Come get it.” I set it on the table, then I flipped the kettle on, busying myself with scrubbing the flour from the kitchen counter while the water boiled.
Over my shoulder, I saw the offer had finally released the constraints on Teddy’s limbs. She set her bunny on the table, dragged the chair out and climbed up to the table, slurping a mound of chocolate hoops into her mouth. I made my coffee while pretending not to notice that the spoon I’d given her was far too big.
Mug in hand, I took the seat across from her. “Your cupboards are pretty bare. Where’s the rest of your food?”
Her tiny shoulders shrugged. “I don’t know.”
