Page 71 of Under Your Spell

‘This song is my villain origin story.’ I scowl at Theo. ‘This is what made me the neurotic wreck you see before you. This song following me around.’

Theo bursts out laughing. ‘It’s not actually a bad song. It could be worse… all my mates used to sing the Chipmunks theme tune at me.’

‘The Chipmunks theme tune is jaunty,’ I insist. ‘Everyone loves it. And Theodore was everyone’s favourite chipmunk too, so that’s not even real teasing. My song is worse. Definitely worse.’

Theo fixes me with a look, and then he starts playing again. And this time when he plays, he plays it softer, slower, and when he sings all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Now, somehow, the song isn’t hokey at all; now it’s raw and tender. He doesn’t look at me, but the words that he sings wrap themselves around me like a caress. Surely, this is the least sexy song in the world? But somehow, somehow, Theo has changed it, made it into something lush and lovely and the way he sings my name over and over again has my breath catching.

When he finishes, the silence between us crackles, electric. In front of us, the sky is a molten flame above a silver sea.

‘Maybe I like that song when it’s you singing it,’ I manage, and I sound so vacuous and breathy that I cringe.

‘I like everything best when it’s with you,’ Theo says simply.

I shiver.

‘Cold?’ Theo asks. I nod.

Theo puts his guitar down by his side and wraps a hand around my wrist, moving himself so he’s sitting behind me, his legs either side of mine, my back pressed against his chest.

He grabs another blanket off the sand and pulls it around his shoulders, clasping it in front of me so that we’re wrapped up together in a little cocoon. His body radiates warmth; I can feel the steady thud, thud, thud of his heartbeat, and as I sit there in the cradle of his arms, we don’t talk, we don’t say anything at all, we just watch the sun finally dip down below the horizon.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

When we make our way back up to the house it’s dark and Theo uses the torch on his phone to guide us. We walk close together but not touching, and yet my whole body is aware of him. I know that something has changed between us, and that when we get back inside we’re going to have to talk about it.

I feel both terrified by that thought, and wildly elated. Because I’m done. I’m absolutely done with ignoring, and repressing, and being sensible. I have no idea if I will regret letting anything happen between me and Theo, but it seems pointless to continue worrying about it when it’s abundantly clear that something already has. Now, it’s just about acknowledging that, and working out what the hell we’re going to do about it.

Theo opens the back door and moves to turn on a lamp. The sudden burst of light feels like a shock, and I blink, temporarily dazzled. When I open my eyes again, Theo stands in front of me.

‘Clementine,’ he says, his voice hoarse. That’s all, just my name, and it hangs there in the air between us.

I honestly don’t know who moves first.

Maybe it’s both of us at once, because we crash into each other with enough momentum behind us to have me rocking back on my heels, and what happens then is not sweet or slow or considered. It’s a frenzy – his lips hard on mine, my tongue in his mouth, his hand gripping the back of my head. He makes a sound, a desperate sound that turns my knees to liquid as I press myself against him, wanting more. And, dimly, over the heat and the need and the hunger, I’m aware of a feeling flooding my whole body, rushing through my veins. Relief.

Thank God, it seems to say. Finally.

I lean into his body like I’m trying to melt into his bones.

I have no idea how long this goes on for – it could be minutes or hours or whole lifetimes – before a sound suddenly punches through into the moment, shrill and relentless.

My phone, I register. My phone is ringing. I pull back slowly from Theo, dazed. His eyes are unfocused, his chest heaving. I realize that his hand is up my shirt and mine is down the front of his jeans.

‘Theo,’ I manage. ‘We… I…’ I can’t get any further because my brain is still lagging behind. My brain is too busy being the world’s most enthusiastic cheerleader – doing somersaults straight into the splits and chanting Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! – to do anything useful like stringing words together.

Theo gathers his wits first. He drops his forehead to mine, just for a moment, eyes closed as he takes a deep, steadying breath. Then he wrenches himself back, away from me.

‘Too fast,’ he manages, his voice sandpaper. ‘We need to talk first.’

‘Yes,’ I agree dimly. ‘Talk first.’

‘You should get that,’ he says, and I’m totally distracted by his hands doing his jeans back up. I want those hands all over me. I want those jeans on the floor or on fire, I don’t care, I just want them off him.

‘What?’ I say.

‘Your phone, Clemmie,’ he laughs, rueful. ‘You should answer your phone.’