Page 44 of Under Your Spell

I feel my cheeks flush. ‘I told you before that you definitely imagined that.’

‘Please?’ He tilts his head, patting the bed beside him. ‘Don’t leave me on my own.’

I eye his bed, tell myself this is a bad idea, but I think we both know it’s for show. ‘You need to go to sleep though,’ I say, climbing up next to him.

‘That’s fine.’ Theo’s eyes are already closed. ‘There are some books on the bedside table if you get bored of watching my beautiful face.’

I lean over him. There are three books stacked next to the bed: an Agatha Christie novel; the Judy Blume book I pulled off the bookshelf in my room last week, the one that has CLEMENTINE MONROE written in a round hand inside the cover; and a copy of The Canterbury Tales.

‘Chaucer?’ I ask, surprised.

‘You’ve got a poster of him in your bedroom.’ Theo doesn’t open his eyes. ‘I was jealous. Wanted to know what the fuss was about.’

I grab the book and get comfy on my side of the bed. ‘You want all the girls to have Theo Eliott posters in their bedrooms?’ I tease.

‘Not all the girls,’ he mumbles. I feel my cheeks warm, remind myself that he doesn’t mean anything by it.

‘I’m more of a Ryan Gosling fan,’ I say lightly.

Theo groans.

We’re quiet for a bit. I leaf through the familiar pages, smile as I notice Theo has been making notes in the margins, trying to translate the Middle English, underlining the rude bits. I think he must have fallen asleep, but then he snuggles closer to me.

‘I like your bed better,’ he says, his voice drowsy and a little slurred as the tablets kick in.

‘Your bed is the one with the fancy gazillionaire sheets on it,’ I remind him.

He sighs. Moves his hand until his fingers brush up against my arm.

‘You’re so soft,’ he says dreamily. ‘I’d like to bite you too. Like a peach.’

The noise my brain makes is like a rusty chainsaw revving to life. It’s the tablets. We all get a bit loopy when we have a temperature. Remain calm.

‘I guess I don’t mind which bed I’m in,’ he manages after a moment, ‘as long as you’re in it too.’

What am I supposed to say to that? I stay frozen, trying to find the words.

But I don’t have to find them, because a light snore lets me know that Theo has fallen asleep.

For the next couple of days I make sure Theo has a constant stream of lemon and honey, force him to inhale steam, gargle warm water, take his pills. I tick off every duty David has given me and it seems to do the trick.

Chalk one up for the ten thousand supplements because Theo’s illness never gets worse than that day he had the higher temperature, not that it stops him complaining about it.

‘I just think maybe I should ask David to send someone with an IV vitamin drip for us,’ he whines when we are sitting on the sofa watching TV.

‘Be quiet and drink your Lemsip.’ I throw a kernel of popcorn at his face, but he catches it in his mouth and flashes me a smug grin.

I can’t get over how easy it is being around him. I’ve even learned to tamp down the relentless electric crackle of physical attraction that I feel towards him. Well, partly. A little bit at least. The snot helped for a while.

And yes, he’s a flirt. He’s ridiculously, eye-wateringly charming, but I simply have to remind myself that that is who he is. The fizzy feeling I get sometimes is just a result of being caught in the orbit of someone with the charisma to woo stadiums full of fans. It’s as natural to him as breathing; I’m not sure he can actually turn it off. And as long as I remember that, remember who he is, it actually feels like we’re starting to be… friends.

The cold, distant Theo of last week has melted away, and now I lie under a blanket as we watch Blood/Lust together.

Days ago, Theo told me in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in watching this ‘crap’, but I paid no attention, silently hitting play on the first episode. Now we’re halfway through season two. We’ve been living like mole people, eating ice cream and keeping the blinds shut. Theo is fully invested, researching his favourite pairings, reading bits of smutty fan fiction aloud to me from the browser on his phone.

‘I can’t believe you read fan fiction,’ I say.

‘Oh yeah. There’s loads on this site about me, you know.’ He sounds delighted with himself.