19 #2
‘Okay, let me get a few things straight,’ he says, rubbing at his face with both hands before pushing his fingers through his hair.
‘First, the cookies are Kevin’s special recipe and no I can’t get it for you because I’ve been trying for the last ten years and the fucker says he’s taking it to his grave. ’
I force myself to swallow my mouthful so I don’t spray him with crumbs as he yet again shows how closely he pays attention.
‘Second, and more to the point, I didn’t let you stay out of pity.
’ He’s shaking his head as he looks at me like he can’t believe that’s where my mind went.
‘I wanted you to stay because while you were talking about your ex, all I was thinking about was how beautiful you looked perched on my kitchen counter, my T-shirt bunched up around your hips, your lips still swollen from when I’d kissed you.
‘I know you think I have a good memory, but I actually don’t remember half the things you said because I was so distracted by this one curl in your hair that kept falling in front of your face.
You kept mindlessly tucking it back behind your ear and I had to sit on my own hands to stop myself from going over to you and doing it myself. ’
I’m frozen where I sit, and it isn’t because of the cold. In fact, my whole body feels like it’s burning up, but I’d rather let the flames engulf me than move a millimetre and risk him stopping his speech.
‘I slept with you because from the second I bumped into you in the street I was entranced by you. I wanted you to stay over that night. And the morning after. I was ready to go and grab us coffees and pastries from the bakery on the corner until I rolled over and realised you were gone.’
I try to picture it, me making a different choice and staying instead of creeping out on my tiptoes, silently begging his dog not to bark as I slipped out of the door.
But my mind hadn’t been made up about Adam back then, and I never would’ve been able to entertain the fact I could fall for someone else. Am I even ready now?
‘I didn’t know,’ is all I can think to say.
He stares at me as if to say that now I do, like it’s some casual information he’s dropped instead of confirmation that I was right on all those times over the last few days when I thought he was paying me special attention.
I’m not sure how to respond, so instead I take another sip of my drink before burying the bottom in the snow to keep it steady and shuffling closer towards him.
We’re both sitting cross-legged, leaning back on our hands, and I move enough so that my fingers brush against his.
Then I shift my weight to the left and place my head on his shoulder, and everything feels right.
‘So, what pastry were you going to buy me?’
‘Why don’t you go over to the table and have a look,’ he says, and my curiosity gets the better of me.
I force myself to move from his side and stand up, and when I get back to the table I realise something I hadn’t before – it’s a massive spread of breakfast food.
Rory’s voice sounds just above my ear. ‘Promise you won’t run off until you’ve at least tried the blueberry muffins this time.’
‘That depends, did Kevin also bake those?’
‘Not those,’ he says, and then he looks wistfully at them and it’s an expression he’s worn before. ‘I did. It’s the one thing I can bake better than him, but I’ve never been able to get them quite as light and fluffy in the middle as she did.’
He doesn’t specify who he means, but he doesn’t have to because I remember then where I last saw that expression. It was directed at a photo frame. I reach out and take a muffin, cupping it with both my hands.
‘I promise I won’t run away this time. And that’s not just because blueberry muffins are my favourite.’
That makes him smile.
‘They were her favourite too,’ I hear him whisper to himself.
Slowly, the faraway look in his eyes starts to fade and he’s brought back to me, standing in front of him holding a muffin that he baked using his mum’s recipe.
I don’t rush him as he comes out of whatever memory he was falling into. I want him to feel like when he’s with me, he can let himself drift off and let his emotions show instead of covering them with a smile, even though that smile’s quickly becoming my favourite thing to stare at.
‘How about you go back over there and get warm under one of those blankets and I’ll bring you a plate with a bit of everything,’ he says, already ushering me back to the mat. ‘A do-over.’
I do as he says, but I manage to snatch an extra muffin before I go.
I can’t believe how much thought and effort he’s put into this date with less than twenty-four hours’ notice.
It’s amazing and confusing at the same time, leaving me wondering if he’s just an incredibly charming guy who enjoys flirting and having a bit of fun for a while, or whether there could be more to this.
But I’m struggling to believe there could be anything more when I still know so little about some elements of his life.
We may have talked about some deep stuff, but what are his plans? His dreams? Does he spend the rest of the year in London after the ski season ends? Does he have another job outside of being an instructor?
These are the kinds of big life questions I asked Adam straight away, wanting to make sure his plan matched mine, otherwise what would’ve been the point in entering something that would’ve inevitably never worked. But how far has that gotten me?
‘Bon appétit.’
A paper plate loaded with food is placed in front of me, and I almost drool. I look around to stop myself from shovelling it all into my mouth straight away, eyes catching on the little shed that must’ve housed all the glasses and plates.
‘So, how many times have you and Kevin pulled this set-up out to impress a girl?’
Immediately I regret asking it when my tone sounds less light-hearted and joke-y and more tarnished with a hint of jealousy.
‘Will you be surprised to know that you’re the only person who’s been here except for me and him?’ he asks, and I am.
So much so that I’m glad when he carries on talking so I don’t have to admit I’d assumed at least Tori would’ve been here.
‘That shed,’ he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, ‘was built by us both when we were teenagers, and we used to come here to get away from our parents. My dad was against it from the start. He didn’t like us to be out of his sight, thought it was dangerous.
But my mum listened to us begging for our own secret den and a few weeks later all the materials were here. ’
He must’ve been coming here for years to have visited while his mum was still alive, and I don’t want to question whether they broke any laws by building this here in the first place.
We both finish off our food in comfortable silence, the sound of other people on the main slope so far in the distance I can barely hear them.
When I push my plate to the side, I’m so full I could fall asleep.
It must be obvious too, because Rory bundles two blankets as pillows and goes to lie down, tapping the space next to him.
He doesn’t have to ask me twice, and I shuffle so I’m at his side, lying on my back with my face to the sky.
I wiggle around as I try to find a comfortable position, but nothing feels quite right.
Then his hand wraps around my wrist and pulls it gently towards him, and I instinctively roll over and end up curled with my head on his chest.
‘Better?’
For a second my hand literally hovers an inch above his jacket before I give in and snuggle closer. ‘Maybe, but you know what would make it even better?’
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches to the side and grabs one of the fluffy blankets and throws it over us.
‘I guess you did,’ I concede, letting my body curl into his and telling myself it only feels so perfect because I need the body heat.
His hand drifts to my head and his fingers stroke down over my messy plaits.
I try to keep my eyes open and think of something to talk about, but my efforts are futile and I let myself relax into the silence, my body melting down against his instinctively.
One minute I remember staring up at the sky, blank and bright as an untouched canvas, one ear pressed against his heartbeat.
In the next, I remember nothing at all.