“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you but I’m heading out to grab some lunch if you want something.”
“Is it lunch time already?” Twisting the phone he had in his grasp, I tapped the screen, gasping at how the day had run away while my head was buried in numbers and papers.
“Why do you have a picture of me as your screensaver?” Iasked incredulously, only just realising thatIwas sitting behind the time as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
His lips twitched as he looked down at the image before meeting my gaze guiltily.
“Isn’t that what a fiancé would normally do?” He asked innocently.
“When did you even take that?” I lifted his hand, again pressing the screen to take another look.
“The other day,” he shrugged as if it was completely normal that he captured a sneaky photo while I stood on his back deck basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun.
“You could have chosen a better photo,” I scoffed, my face twisting into a scowl at the bird's nest sitting on top of my head and my off the shoulder jumper and tights that do absolutely nothing for my figure.
“I like it,” he replied earnestly, “It’s… you.”
I tilted my head assessing. His moods were so sporadic, I struggled to read him. Most of the time he was buoyant, calm and entirely attuned to what I needed, but other times, like yesterday, he withdrew. Became quiet, morose even, lost to an inner dialogue I wished I could hear.
He watched me, his hair falling effortlessly across his forehead, and it was then I noticed the ghost of crimson lingering on his skin just below his eye.
Stepping forward, I traced the pads of my fingers across his cheek gently. “How did you get this?” I asked, knowing this hadn’t been there yesterday when I was talking to him in his office. I’d heard him go out late last night, his bike roaring down the driveway, but I didn’t ask him where he went. We weren’t actually dating, which meant I didn’t really have any right to know. But today there was a vacancy in his eyes which was new.
He tenderly encased my hand in his own and removed it from his face, the same red hue visible on his knuckles.
“Were you in a fight?” I breathed, my other hand tracing the swollen ridges of bone, still pulsing with heat.
Had his father done this to him?
“You worried about me, Evy?” He asked, almost mockingly and my brows pinched into a frown.
“No,” I tried.
“That’s a lie.” He stated with confidence I shouldn’t be finding attractive. “You’ve never been good at lying.”
“I’m not lying.” I fibbed adamantly.
He studied me quietly and for a second, I thought he was going to explain himself or elaborate on his obvious bruises, but my stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting us.
“You need food.” His avoidance was obvious, but hewascorrect, so I made a mental note to ask Sebastian.
“I do. But I can go, you stay,” I offered, thinking it was probably within my role statement to look after him rather than the other way around. I could also do with a change of scenery, especially now that I knew I’d been in this room for the last four hours without so much as a toilet break. Pocketing my phone, I stepped around him ready to ask what he felt like, only his grip on my arm halted me.
The warmth of his hand circling my wrist in his grasp felt different to the other times he’d touched me - more tender. I didn’t pull away as I took in his dark brown boots, denim jeans and black polo. The corded strength of his sun-kissed forearms and the familiarity of those hands I would recognise in a line-up of thousands, only never holding onto me like this. When my gaze finally lifted to meet his, he was already staring at me with an intensity which sent goosebumps across my skin.
“I’mgoing to grab the food,” he said, his thumb swiping the inside of my wrist tenderly. “Because that’s what fiancés do,” he added, with a cheeky wink.
I smirked, unable to stop the pesky part of my brain reminding me this was all part of the act. His full tooth smile and bright blues holding a mirth which reminded me of the boy I’d once known. The boy I’d harboured an unrequited, childhood/teenage/still current if I was entirely honest, crush on. I wastrying incredibly hard to remind myself that this was a mutually beneficial arrangement and that was the only reason I was here. But truthfully, there were times like this, when he looked at me as though I were all he could see, that I forgot about the facade. Forgot about anything other than the feel of his rough hands on my skin and how that same gentle caress might feel somewhere else.
“What are you thinking?” His question was weighted with a charge I felt pulsing between my legs.
“I’m wondering what you’re doing?” I sounded off kilter.
“Someone could walk in,” he said as if that made perfect sense. “Shouldn’t we be putting more effort into faking it here? Shouldn’t I touch my woman?”
MY WOMAN. Fudge it to all that is holy.
“I guess.” I sounded breathless at this point.
