Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
The pipes roar to life as Adhira turns on her shower, and I melt into the sofa, relieved that she’s still able to care for herself.
I really bloody wanted to accompany her today, not out of guilt or a deep-seated need to provide, but because I enjoy spending time with her.
And that is new for me. So new, in fact, that I have no idea what to do with the information.
But seeing her complete small tasks that Mum wasn’t able to by this point in her cancer journey is revitalising in a way it shouldn’t be.
Not with how relentlessly friend-zoned I seem to be, but if that’s what she needs from me, that’s what I’ll be.
And being given the honour of earning Adhira’s trust is more than enough for me. For now.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and my neck and shoulders tense as I answer. Each night when I speak with my sisters, I’ve been waiting for the one where Mum tells me her biopsy results.
And it appears tonight is that night.
Mum's bright, smiling face fills the screen, and I mirror her expression. “What are we so cheery about tonight, Mum?”
“My biopsy is benign, love! We’ll keep a watch on it, but otherwise, I’m free to continue as I have been,” she says, and my heart is like a bird breaking free from its too-small cage.
“That’s wonderful, Mum!” I shout across the line, my muscles dissolving into liquid after a week of built-up tension.
The sound of the water shutting off acts as a quick reminder that tomorrow could either be Adhira’s final treatment or the final step before she faces an even more grim reality, and fear grips my heart at the thought.
She can’t leave me.
“I do have some bad news though,” Mum adds, but her smile never falters. “The girls spent their day off with the equestrian teacher down the road, and they’re knocked out for the night.”
“When they wake you in the middle of the night, send them my love,” I joke, glad to have the extra time tonight to decompress and spend some more time alone with Adhira.
We chat for a while longer, and by the time we’re off the line, Adhira is stepping into the living room, dressed in another one of my jumpers, and my dick stirs in my shorts at the sight.
“Did I miss the girls?” she asks, her brows pinched.
I can’t form words, a thrill of joy and adrenaline thrumming through me at the sight of her.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I jump up, wrapping my arms around her slim waist and twirling her. “Mum’s biopsy came back benign!” My heart stops beating, but before I can apologise or set her down, she winds her arms around my neck and laughs with me.
“Quit spinning me before I puke,” she says, her voice brimming with laughter. I settle her onto the sofa and sit beside her. She’s wearing a smile so brilliant I wish I could take a picture and save it for later when she leaves me, for one reason or another.
“We should celebrate,” she announces, smacking her hands on her thighs and pushing herself off the sofa.
“You have chemo in the morning; we really don’t have—”
She marches to the front door, tugging her trainers on and fixing me with a glare. “Don’t tell me what’s best for me, and I’ll return the favour. Now, get up. I want ice cream, and my last treatment is even more reason to celebrate.”
“Well, who am I to argue with that?”
It takes us twenty minutes to find the shop she likes, with the cardamom-and-rose ice cream, but only half as long for her to devour every bite as we walk along the bustling street, window-shopping as we go.
Adhira’s hair is hanging down her back, mostly dry, and I have the urge to play with it, just as she did with mine the other night. She wipes her mouth with her napkin, popping it in a rubbish bin, and turns to face me, hands on her hips.
“There’s a bookstore just down this way,” she says, using her chin to point. “It’s not the one I wanted to take you to today, but it’ll do.”
I grin, taking in her sugar-fuelled energy and the smudge of ice cream across her nose.
“What?” she asks, tilting her head.
I reach out, swiping the tip of her nose with the pad of my thumb, bringing it to my mouth to suck the sugary cream off. “Delicious,” I tease. Just like I bet you would be.
She wrinkles her nose, tipping her chin up at me. “That’s disgusting, Elijah. There are an estimated one thousand species of bacteria living on the human skin.”
I roll my eyes playfully at her. “I’ll add that to my list of reasons not to lick every inch of you,” I mutter, walking past her in the direction she’d been leading us.
She remains silent by my side, murmuring something unintelligible, stopping at a shop with a sign that reads, “Read Banned Books!”
“My kind of store,” I muse, holding the door open for her.
She steps past me, into the warmly lit shop. The walls are painted a muted sage green, with rows and rows of shelves in the centre. There are a few seating areas, each with a theme to match the genre of books nearest to it.
“Let’s play a game,” Adhira says, deep-cinnamon eyes glittering with mischief that leaves my stomach in knots. She’s up to no good. “You pick a colour and a trope, and I’ll pick a book for you.”
I quirk a brow at her. “That sounds oddly harmless. I’ll bite.”
She smirks, awaiting my answer. I tap my chin, making her wait. “How about red?”
“What shade of red?”
“Burgundy,” I blurt without a second thought, and it nearly kills me not to let my vision dip to her chest, covered by the thick material of my burgundy jumper. It’s my favourite colour on her, and as of recently, my favourite colour in general.
“And a trope?”
I swallow roughly, scratching at the back of my neck. My eyes skate around the room, looking for something that speaks to me. I certainly can’t tell Adhira that my favourite tropes are flatmates-to-lovers and forced proximity, can I?
The shelf behind her has a stand with a book titled “First Comes Amor” by Cynthia A. Rodriguez. The cover shows a woman in a light-blue dress, her belly jutting out, with a man resting one loving hand on her bump and the other cradling her hand.
“Surprise pregnancy,” I answer.
She nods once, trudging off down the aisles in search of a book that matches that description.
I watch with rapt attention as she plucks burgundy book after burgundy book off the shelves, flipping them over to skim the blurb and placing them back where they belong. I follow, rearranging the shelves when I notice a book out of place or a series out of order.
Finally, Adhira stops, taking entirely too long to stare at the cover before flipping it to the back. She opens it, closes her eyes, and inhales the scent of new, freshly printed pages, and warmth spreads through my whole body.
Her lashes flutter before she turns to me, clutching the book to her chest. “This is the one. Let’s go.”
She waltzes past me, not bothering to show me the book, and before I can get my legs in motion, she’s already at the checkout paying for it.
We make our way home, leaving our shoes by the door. Adhira grabs something from her room and returns a moment later, plopping down on the sofa. She tucks her feet beneath her and holds out a small pink bag with the store’s logo in the centre.
“My celebratory gift to you,” she says with a sly smile.
“I’d thank you, but something tells me I should hold my gratitude until I’ve seen what you picked,” I tease, settling the bag in my lap.
She snickers, her eyes never leaving me. Everywhere her gaze roams, heat scorches my skin, and I do my best to ignore it, plucking the hot-pink-and-black tissue paper from the bag. I reach in, surprised to find a small, cold piece of metal inside.
It's a handmade metal bookmark featuring all my favourite things.
I glance up at her. “You made this…for me?”
She looks away. “It's nothing.”
It's not nothing. Not only did she take the time to make me something so special, but it shows just how much she actually notices me. That thought warms my belly and makes me yearn to pull her into my lap and press my lips to hers.
I can't do any of that, though, so I whisper, “Thank you,” and reach back into the bag. I wrap my fingers around the hardcover, and the bag drops to the floor along with my jaw. My pulse skyrockets. I smack my chest roughly, coughing as I stare at the raunchiest special edition I’ve ever seen.
“Aw, surely you’ve watched enough porn to know what they’re doing, haven’t you?”
No, Adhira. I haven’t. I mostly spend my shower time thinking about what I would do to you.
I grunt, clenching my eyes shut for a moment as I regain my bearings. “This is…” My mouth is all cotton and glue, but I manage to speak. “Really—”
“Hot?” she asks, wiggling her brows.
I peer back down at the cover, bringing it closer to my face, pushing my glasses up my nose to inspect the level of detail. “This guy’s prick is massive,” I remark, and Adhira cackles so loudly it pierces my eardrums.
“Surely not any bigger than yours,” she teases once she’s recovered. “And the blonde is stunning.”
I shrug. “I’m not really into blondes.”
“No?” she asks, one side of her pretty mauve lips tilted up. “More of a redhead kind of guy?”
I bite my lip, peering at her through my lashes. “Adhira, if you’re fishing for a compliment, please know you never have to…not with me,” I say, my voice soft and low.
Her body stills. “I–I wasn’t. You just—”
A rumble of laughter shakes my chest. I settle my eyes on hers, allowing myself the simple pleasure of taking in every inch of her as she watches me do so.
“I don’t think I’m much of an anyone man.
” Thin, sharp brows climb her forehead. “Until I met you, that is. I’ve never been particularly attracted to anyone before.
And now that you’re here, I can assure you that I am, without a doubt, a you kind of man. ”