14 #2
‘Do you want to come in?’
He hesitates, almost like he hadn’t thought beyond checking my foot was still attached to my body, but then he picks his way through the snow back to the front door.
As I watch him climbing up the front steps, I get this feeling like I’m a teenager again, sneaking a boy into the house while my parents are away.
Not that I ever did that, little un-rebellious me.
I was more likely to get caught drawing late at night than sneaking a person in or out of my room.
When he gets to the doorway he reaches down to start unlacing his boots.
‘Oh, you can leave them on. It’s a mess in here anyway. Unless you, I don’t know if you wanted to, uh…’ I fumble, not sure how long he’s going to be staying, or what his plan really is.
If he’s sticking to the living room, then shoes on makes the most sense. If he’s planning on taking this to the bedroom, then…
But I’m getting carried away. This is probably standard procedure – an instructor checking his student isn’t seriously injured. A medical visit, nothing more, so he knows whether to expect me at class tomorrow or not.
‘They don’t take long to put back on,’ he says, continuing to unlace them.
‘Tea?’ I offer, slowly making my way towards the kitchen. ‘I would offer biscuits, but I ate them all yesterday. Self-pity and all that. I actually need to go out and get some more.’
I start reaching for mugs, balancing on the tiptoes of my good leg, but before I can grab one a hand gets there first from behind me.
‘Let me do that, you should go and rest.’
Rory’s chest briefly presses against my back as he stretches forward to grab the mugs, and I grip the countertop to keep myself steady.
He moves away to pick up the kettle and fills it, but my head isn’t quite processing things at a normal speed.
Did I whack it when I fell and it turns out I have a concussion as well as a dodgy ankle?
Am I hallucinating this or is Rory really here, riffling through a box of herbal tea bags in my kitchen?
‘Yeah, okay,’ I say, making it back to the sofa and managing to get my leg propped back on its pile of pillows by the time the kettle pings.
‘What did you pick?’ I ask as Rory carries the mugs over.
‘Green tea – it’s a natural anti-inflammatory.’
I look down at my right ankle, which is about double the size of my other one, and wince.
‘I think I might need more than one cup,’ I say, taking a sip.
Rory puts down his own mug and gestures towards my leg. ‘I’ve had to do a few first aid and injury assessment courses over the years. May I?’
‘Oh, sure,’ I say, trying not to sound affected by the idea of him touching me again, even if it’s purely professional.
He shifts so he’s kneeling on the floor by my side. ‘Let me know if it hurts, okay?’
I nod, and then his hands are gently pushing against my skin.
He’s so focused that I feel like it’s safe to properly study him in a way I’ve tried not to these last few days.
He’s still every bit as attractive as he was that night in Clapham, except his hair is a little wilder, his eyes a little brighter from the fresher air here. Alpine life looks good on him.
‘It twisted, right?’
‘Yeah, it made a pop sound too,’ I say, the memory still making me a bit queasy.
He moves towards the side where the swelling is, and I wince involuntarily.
‘Hmm, luckily it does seem like a sprain and not a tear, how much can you move it?’
‘It hurts if I move it too far to either side, and it’s a little wobbly, but I can put a little bit of weight on it if I’m slow and careful,’ I say, and to demonstrate I go to stand, only for Rory to lower me back down by placing one hand on my thigh and the other on my lower back.
‘Don’t push it,’ he says, and the movement has brought him so close our faces are only a couple of inches apart. His eyes dip down to my lips, and I don’t dare move. Kiss me, I think, watching as his lips tip open.
‘Lottie, I should tell you—’
My phone pings, and we both look towards where it lies on the table next to my mug. The movement pulls our faces further apart and the moment is broken.
‘One sec,’ I say, hoping it’s something urgent or at the very least extremely important as I check it.
If Rory’s there already, tell him he might be out of a job. Kevin let
us have a break for an Instagram photo-op at the top of the slope and
bought us all Mars bars for making it down a blue.
I can’t help but laugh at Tilly’s message despite its abysmal timing, and I turn the screen to Rory to fill him in.
‘Why didn’t you ever buy us food as motivation?’
He reads the message and furrows his brow. ‘Because I didn’t realise I’d be in competition with Kevin for best ski instructor, that’s why. But if that’s how he wants to play it, it’s on.’
He stands, holding out his hand to me. ‘I guess I could start by driving you to the shops to get those biscuits. And a basket full of snacks to win everyone back over with tomorrow.’
I look at his hand, floundering for a second over what to say.
‘Oh, it’s okay, I can go later,’ I say, and I mentally facepalm at the fact I’ve turned down an offer to spend some more time with him. He doesn’t retract his hand though as he continues.