Chapter 9 #5
‘We’ve nearly beaten it! I can’t believe how fast time’s flown, man.
’ His eyes practically had sparks shooting out of them as he darted from corner to corner, diving under tables, kicking over cushions, and waving his hands like he was conducting an invisible orchestra, all in pursuit of the brass butterfly ornament.
Meanwhile, me and the other couple stood frozen, doing absolutely jackshit – well, except me dramatically leaning on the table, pretending to be part of the scenery.
‘To be fair,’ I said, ‘you’ve basically carried all of us. My contribution was minimal at best. Aside from looking flawless, of course. Honestly, my radiant aura probably powered your stamina and sheer will to victory. You can thank me later.’
He lunged for the butterfly, tripped over a chair, and somersaulted into the corner. The ornament went flying – straight past him, clanging against the wall and disappearing out of sight.
‘Wait … are you saying I lost because you distracted the butterfly with your beauty?’ he wheezed, tangled in cushions.
‘Exactly,’ I said, holding my hands dramatically over my heart. ‘I am the secret final boss of this game. Bow before my power!’
Somewhere in the chaos, a cushion hit the other couple in the face.
I shrugged, grinning. ‘Collateral damage. Worth it.’
At that, Jericho finally paused his wild butterfly hunt, brushing off a pile of discarded cushions. He walked over, gave me a half-hug that was just enough to make my heart stutter, and grinned.
‘You’re absolutely right, Cassie,’ he said, eyes twinkling. ‘Now … if you could help me find this butterfly so we can finally win, we’ll get a celebratory meal. Sound fair?’
I blinked at him, part mortified, part amused, and muttered, ‘Fair … but only if I get to take full credit for your heroics.’
After a couple of minutes of searching, I saw the brass butterfly ornament out of the corner of my eye – it was perched behind a photo frame on the floating shelf.
‘Got it!’ I yelled as the other couple (who were absolutely useless by the way) whooped and clapped. I dropped the butterfly ornament into the task bin provided, and the game was over.
As we walked out onto Piccadilly and made our way to our final pit stop for a light dinner – Fortnum but I’m kinda busy right now. Really sorry, can’t talk.’
The girl blinked at him, then shrugged with a grin. ‘Oh, nah, that’s cool. You’re so much fitter in real life, man. Nice to meet you!’
And just like that, she rejoined her squad, all of them squealing and skipping off like they’d just won a bet. Behind us, I could clearly hear, ‘See! I told you, I TOLD you it was him!’
I raised an eyebrow at Jericho, trying (and failing) to suppress my smirk.
Teenage superfans ambushing us outside a wine bar was not on my bingo card for the day.
And yet, underneath my amusement, I couldn’t ignore the little itch left behind: Ca – who?
‘He was fitter in real life’? What did that mean?
He’d shut it down fast, maybe too fast. I told myself not to pry; after all, it was none of my business at the end of the day, and he’d clearly laid out his boundaries surrounding his personal life, but the curiosity was already nibbling away at me.
I tried not to think about it too much, however, and tried to just stay in the moment even though he seemed a little flustered after the interaction.
I told myself that there would be plenty of time for detective work later.
Jericho was obviously slightly shaken by this interaction, on the other hand. He picked up his pace as we continued on our way, seeming a little skittish. ‘Sorry about that, by the way,’ he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck while we walked.
I hadn’t planned on bringing it up but seeing as the mountain had come to Mohammed …
‘Don’t worry about it! What were they on about? Did you date someone well known or something? Are you some kind of local CELEbrITY?’
Jericho laughed; however, he seemed slightly on edge.
‘Ha! No not at all. I’m a no one. I guess they knew someone I used to date; it’s not a big deal.’
I was intrigued. To be honest, with the way he looked, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had told me right there and then that he had previously been a contestant on Love Island or something similar, gorgeous as he was.
‘Ohhh.’ I grinned. ‘Did you used to date an influencer or something?’ I wouldn’t have put it past him.
He slowed his pace slightly as he replied. ‘Something like that; d’you mind if we don’t talk about it? And could you maybe not mention it to anyone else?’
Whatever it was about that interaction had him spooked. Why would he assume I would gossip about it? Unless his ex was mega famous, why would I even want to know? I didn’t need anyone to compare myself to, thank you very much.
‘Uh sure, I mean I wasn’t planning to go on a gossip spree or anything, but you have my word,’ I eventually said.
The man didn’t like to bring up his exes. Fair enough, to be honest. I’d just met the guy.
We continued on our way to the wine bar and took our seats, with Jericho very kindly pulling my chair out for me. I pretended to swoon a little – just a fraction, nothing dramatic – and opened the menu. My eyes immediately widened.
Oh, wow … this is … ambitious, I thought, mentally calculating whether my bank account could survive a single salad. Deciding to play it safe, I hovered over the Caesar salad option, ready to declare fiscal responsibility my top priority.
‘Get whatever you want,’ Jericho said with a grin, leaning back while his eyes bored into mine hazily.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Even … Wagyu beef?’ I asked, half joking, half testing the limits of his generosity.
‘Even Wagyu,’ he said, shrugging like it was no big deal, which made me laugh – I wasn’t used to men covering the bill like this, and he had already been so generous as it was. I felt my face flush with gratitude.
As we waited for our food, we recapped the day: the chaos of the game, the perfume disaster, the near-catastrophic honey spill upstairs.
Jericho laughed at my commentary, adding his own exaggerated replays of my ‘secret final boss’ antics.
I found myself laughing harder than I had in ages, the sound warm and easy, and realised my little crush had been quietly growing all afternoon.
I hesitated for a second, then asked, voice almost sheepish, ‘So … d’you think this date is going well then?’
Jericho tilted his head, flashed that mischievous grin, and said simply, ‘Yeah.’
Cue internal swoon.