15. Faye
15
FAYE
Their evening meal consisted of paper-wrapped chips from the local chippy – with vinegar, of course – and two homemade chicken pies Michèle had prepared the day before. Then Maya and Imara battled it out to pick the movie they all watched, crammed together upon sofas and chairs.
Bash relegated himself to the floor halfway through, which made more space between Faye, Matt, and Saira. He stretched out, propped against the sofa with a cushion beneath his shoulders to let the girls clamber all over him for hugs. Maya, with her small arm, wrapped herself across his stomach.
Faye should’ve been watching the animated film, but her attention kept falling to where Bash lay out in front of her. With his long legs crossed at the ankles, his trousers were loose enough around his thighs to merely tease her with her illicit thoughts.
Her hand almost lowered countless times from her lap to his hair. He must’ve showered in the morning before picking her up, because his styled, dark waves looked fluffy enough to sink her fingers into.
With more effort than it should’ve required, she resisted.
Something about being in Bash’s family home surrounded by his people made Faye want to touch him more than ever, as if that would stake her claim to him in front of those he’d known for all his life.
Her gaze kept on finding her stocking hung up on the mantelpiece too. The gesture was so sweet, and if Mortimer hadn't arrived when he did, she would’ve shed tears and blubbered into Michèle’s arms about how nice it was, how grateful she was for the effort to feel so fiercely included.
A part of her that had missed out on a happy family Christmas healed more with each second she was here.
Somewhere in the evening it was confirmed that Uncle Mortimer would take Bash’s bed in the annexe. Faye suspected that it was so he was as far away from everyone else as possible, and whilst Bash went to fetch his bag, she paced around her – their – bedroom.
She’d silently dreaded this moment for a reason she couldn’t name. They’d shared rooms before. Even slept in the same bed. But somehow here under his parents’ roof, it felt different. As though there was some other meaning behind the necessary arrangement.
On her way up the stairs, she’d panicked about what pyjamas she’d brought with her. Not knowing how cold or warm the house would be at night, she’d packed two sets that could mix and match from nakedness to a winter bear.
Since nakedness wasn’t an option, Faye edged towards the winter bear, covering her legs in long red tartan bottoms, then rushed through the debate between a cami top or an old t-shirt in the minutes she had to decide. One would seem as though she purposefully covered up, and the other left too much room for slippage .
Sleeping in a bra was a definite no, and though her breasts were sized in the earlier range of the alphabet, small enough to perhaps get away with keeping everything contained as she rolled around at night, Faye wouldn’t take any chances. Not this time .
The old t-shirt with a logo of a TV show she watched as a child was better than accidentally flashing her new roommate at some point in the night.
She was hunched over, digging deep into her bag to hide her underwear, when the vaguest brush of fingers against wood preceded the opening of the door.
“Is it safe to come in?” Bash’s laden bag pushed through the doorway first.
Snapping up too quickly from the floor, dizziness swam through Faye’s head and she wobbled.
Bash’s stare froze as much as the rest of him. “You alright?” A hint of mirth coated his tired timbre.
She blinked a few times until her vision cleared. “Yeah just” – hiding my knickers from you – “tidying my things.”
His doubt disappeared in the few steps Bash crossed around the room to deposit his duffel on the opposite side of the bed, claiming that half, Faye guessed. Curiosity had compelled her to sit and bounce on the edge whilst he was gone, so she knew that it didn’t squeak – not that anything would happen in the foreseeable future to cause any strain on the bed frame at all.
Her gaze dipped to peek inside Bash’s bag as he took out toothpaste, a toothbrush, deodorant – all things to go in the en-suite.
The en-suite.
She’d hidden her knickers but hadn’t given a thought to all of the toiletries she’d laid out on the cabinet.
Bash moved for that door before she could.
“Good to know you’re still going full throttle on that skincare routine.” His voice came from within.
Faye winced, though his reaction could’ve been worse.
“Self care is important, Bash,” she stressed.
His head popped around the door frame and damn him, he smirked. “Are we still talking about the same thing?”
“ Yes .” Though the rush of heat up through her chest said otherwise .
“So I’m not going to find anything … unexpected … in this cabinet then?”
“Definitely not!” Faye gasped like a scandalised regency debutant.
As soon as Bash disappeared with a cocky expression that said he didn’t believe her, she dove straight for her bag on the floor. She was absolutely sure she hadn’t packed anything for any nighttime activities but Bash’s allusions made her double check anyway.
Nothing? Good.
Sinking into the soft woven throw, Faye sat on the bed made up perfectly with white pillow cases and a puffy duvet. She scrolled through her phone while Bash dug about in his duffel and hung up shirts and jumpers in the thin wardrobe they now shared.
It was all so … weird. Things that shouldn’t make her think twice but were doing.
A minute later, Bash stood at the foot of the bed with his hand on his hip, the other scraping over his five o’clock shadow. His eyes roamed over the bed as if trying to calculate how big it was. Faye could read the thoughts forming in his mind – especially after their last night sharing a bed - before he said them.
“I’ll see if I can find where dad keeps the camping gear. There’s bound to be a blow-up bed somewhere.”
That wasn’t completely what Faye had anticipated, but it was close enough. Though it took her a second to realise what he was saying. “You’re serious?”
Bash returned yet again to his hold-all, pulling things out of it like he was Mary Poppins as he sent her a look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We’ve slept in the same bed before, as you politely told your whole family earlier.” Faye had to throw that in there just to see the wince on his lips battle with a twitching smile. “I don’t mind.”
Though her composure certainly did.
It was too soon after the last time they’d shared a bed to do it again – her body still pulsed at the raw memory of him curled around her, his erection pressing up against her backside.
She curled her fingers into the throw blanket beneath her for something to grasp. “It’s better than you sleeping on some blow-up thing on the floor.”
Bash paused where he bent over his haphazardly packed bag, eyes lifting slowly. “You’re telling me to share the bed with you?”
Well when he put it like that …
What on earth had gotten into her? Sleeping next to each other again was as risky for Faye’s heart as risky could be. And by the sounds of it, this arrangement wouldn’t just be for one night, either.
“Yes, I am.” She blinked when Bash stared at her. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“You were.”
Bash straightened and went to tug on his ear. “It’s just … last time didn’t entirely end well.” Her nose wrinkled, then his did too. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant that I made you uncomfortable.” Something he was clearly still apologetic for.
Faye wouldn’t say – and only to herself – that she’d been uncomfortable. Not completely. She’d been aroused and curious and marginally horrified, and had adamantly not wanted Bash to feel uncomfortable. But was he worried it’d happen again? Was that why he was being hesitant?
“Well … ” She tried to think. “This bed is bigger than mine.” Her hand swept over the crisp white duvet whilst her cheeks burned bright. “I’m sure that we can figure out how to keep ourselves to … ourselves.”
Bash took a second too long to reply. “Right.”
Maybe saying that had been a bit too on the nose?
From his bag, he took out sleep shorts, a t-shirt, and then dropped the duffel by the wall before excusing himself for a shower. Faye picked up her phone again with the purpose of actually checking her messages and emails instead of dead scrolling to avoid Bash’s gaze when he came back.
There hadn’t been any figurative fires today whilst she’d been gone – at least none she’d been made aware of. No “Please come back? We need you!” texts from Chandra manning the bakery. Her blood pressure stayed low for that, but at the same time no news wasn’t entirely calming to see.
She drafted a text to send to Maisie and Sienna, and copied it to Ellie as well.
Faye
Everything here at Bash’s parents’ is lovely. His nieces are adorable. But thanks to his uncle showing up uninvited, I’m now sharing a room … with Bash.
Replies were instantaneous.
Sienna
Two beds, right?
Faye
Nope. Just the one.
Maisie
O.M.G. I hope you remembered your pjs!
Sienna
I hope she forgot.
Faye
I’ve covered everything! The girls are tucked away.
Maisie
I wonder if you’ll wake up to the same surprise as last time … ??
Sienna
Surprise? LAST TIME?
Her text thread with Ellie popped up.
Ellie
Don’t act like you’re upset ?? This is literally every one of your dreams come true.
The temptation within Faye to bang her head against a wall was strong. This was not every one of her dreams. There were no dreams about Bash. None whatsoever at all.
Did she find him attractive, comforting, and loveable? Yes.
But did that mean she thought something could actually happen between them?
She could laugh.
Notifications flew from her girls’ chat while she responded to Ellie. Hopefully wit would deter her step-sister off of any scent of ‘feelings’ or ‘attraction’ from her end.
Faye
If my dreams consist of a duvet hogger and world’s loudest snorer, then sure.
Neither of which were true, but Ellie didn’t know that.
Ellie
And you know this how? ??
She’d walked right into that one.
Faye
Via entirely platonic and innocent reasons.
The bathroom door clicked, and emerging from the light like some kind of eighties music video star – only without the smoke and disco lights – was Bash. Damp haired with wet spots blotting on his white t-shirt. Tiredness weighed on his face but still he looked good. Fuckable good. It was unfair.
How was she supposed to ignore him when he walked around like that? Hard in the right places, soft in others. His perfectly blue eyes gleaming because they sure as eggs knew how nice they were.
“Ready for bed?” he asked as he stood there not ten feet away, looking at her lik e the old, oversized t-shirt she’d thrown on wasn’t the ugliest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
More than you know.
A ball of warmth cascaded its way down through Faye’s stomach at the sight of his shorts slung around his hips and a particularly lengthy outline that the thin grey material traced – the peek of taut skin around his navel as he shook his hand through his hair, making the loosening curls bounce and tussle.
She needed to get out of here.
Out of this bed.
Out of her body.
Out of her mind – though she was already halfway there.