Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘No way.’ I shake my head vehemently, because there is no chance that I’m joining Jonah and our friends ice skating at the outdoor rink set up in Cathedral Gardens in Manchester.
I may have washed my hands of the meet-cute wish, but that doesn’t mean the universe has given up flinging meet-cutes my way.
I slipped on a patch of ice only this morning and would have fallen on my arse if I hadn’t been rescued by a (yes, you’ve guessed it) handsome chap who happened to be walking alongside me.
An ice rink is the perfect setting for a multitude of meet-cutes and I want no part of it.
‘You don’t like ice skating?’ Paris’s question is perfectly reasonable, but it still gets my back up, because it isn’t as though I can explain that my worry is that I’ll fall over, have my hand sliced open by the blade of a passing skater and end up in A he’s strong and confident, and he lets me go to show off with a twirl.
My anger subsides a little as I applaud his technique.
‘You’re really good.’
Rhys shrugs, his feet zigzagging as he moves backwards. ‘I used to skate a lot when I was younger. It was a good way to pick up girls.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Of course it was.’
‘You looked pretty mad just then.’ Rhys takes my hands and guides us towards the Christmas tree set up in the middle of the rink. ‘You don’t like Paris, do you?’
My mouth gapes open. ‘I do. I just…’ Find her irritating and I don’t enjoy the way she’s pushed her way into our group. Look at her now, taking up Jonah’s time when he promised me he’d be my meet-cute shield!
‘Do you think you could be… jealous?’
I snort. ‘Jealous of what?’ Her golden blonde hair that clogs the drain? Or her bad taste in films? Or how about the way she chirps like a baby bird when she… no, I don’t want to think about that (but damn the wall that separates my bedroom from Jonah’s is wafer-thin).
‘Jealous of her and Jonah?’ Rhys manoeuvres himself so he’s skating behind me now, his hands on my hips, so he doesn’t see the look of disdain on my face.
‘I am not jealous of Paris and Jonah. I’m having a break from dating, remember? I’m happy being single right now but one day, when I’m ready, I’ll date again and find someone I’d like to be in a relationship with.’
Rhys pushes on my hip so I spin around to face him, steadying me so I don’t stumble from the sudden movement.
‘I’m not saying you’re jealous of Paris being in a relationship.
I’m saying you’re jealous of Paris being in a relationship with Jonah.
Of Jonah being in a relationship with anyone.
’ He leans in close, so we’re almost nose-to-nose. ‘Anyone but you.’
I laugh, right in Rhys’s face, because that is ridiculous.
I don’t want to be in a relationship with Jonah.
He’s my flatmate. One of my best friends.
Yes, he’s attractive, anyone can see that, and he’s kind and fun and he’s one of my most favourite people in the world, but I don’t fancy him. I wouldn’t want to kiss him.
Would I?
No!
No.
Absolutely not. That would be crossing a boundary that couldn’t be uncrossed, and the thought of Jonah’s lips on mine, of his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my body, is disturbing. Disturbingly hot.
No!
No.
I do not fancy Jonah Jackson. He is my friend. My flatmate. One of the people I trust most in the world. At least I did until he promised to be my human meet-cute shield but dropped me in favour of his girlfriend.
‘Mate.’ We’ve skated around the Christmas tree in the centre of the rink twice as the thoughts bubble and froth in my mind before Rhys breaks me away from them. ‘It’s okay. He’s a good-looking guy. I bet loads of other women fancy him.’
But I’m not other women. I’m his flatmate. His friend. I shouldn’t fancy him. I can’t. But I do.
I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the words from spilling out.
This can’t be happening to me. Of all the men I’ve met over the past few months, the ones I’ve dated and the ones I haven’t, how can I fancy the man who was there, right in front of me, this whole time?
And if I do fancy him, when the hell did that happen?
Because it wasn’t when I moved into the flat – I was in no fit state to be developing crushes on anyone so soon after my breakup with Alfie.
But Jonah gets me. He supports me, no matter what, even when he thinks I’m being ridiculous (hello, meet-cute wish).
I wouldn’t have taken Dorian’s art class if it wasn’t for Jonah pushing me, but he’d seen that a fire had been lit by Tana’s class and had found a way for me to embrace it, and he’d held my hand while I took those first few tentative steps.
Because that is what friends do. And we are just friends.
But now that I’ve thought about kissing him, that’s all I can think about. That’s all I want.