Would that be such a bad thing?
I can almost hear Seb saying it. And honestly? I don’t know. Maybe it’d be okay?
My feet are heavy on the steps as I trudge upstairs, and it takes actual effort not to turn around and see if I can still catch him.
And there’s my answer. I can’t go there with Pete.
I like him.
Even after a night full of awkward moments and misunderstandings, Ilikehim. There’s something about Pete that makes me feel like I’d be in safe hands, and that’s always been my kryptonite. Adding sex to that would be a disaster.
My heart has only just recovered after Dan broke it.
I can’t risk it again when I’m leaving in two weeks.
It’slate on Sunday when I finally wake up. At least I assume it is because the winter sun looks way too high for early morning.
I got a second wind when I finally got up to my room last night, ended up writing well into the early hours. Pete was great inspiration, and if one of my characters has morphed into a heavily stubbled lumberjack type, then that’s purely coincidental.
One drawback of working so late means I’ve slept past breakfast, and I’m starving. When I get lost in my writing, I often forget to eat.
If I want food now, I’m probably going to have to venture outside the pub. Which I guess I should anyway, I could do with some fresh air.
It’s only when I reach for my phone that I see a message from Pete.
My heart skips a beat at seeing his name on my screen, and I’m smiling before I’ve even read it. I flop back on the pillows and palm my face, groaning.
Rein it in, Charlie.
You’re thirty-two years old, not sixteen.
It’s nice, though, to know someone’s been thinking about me. That they’re at least a little interested. And I’ve missed that, too.
It’s just a text, I remind myself, and drop my hand to look at my phone and read it, laughing at what he’s called himself.
NYE Pete: Morning. I had a great time last night, thanks for meeting me. Did you manage to get all your writing done?
It’s tame as far as texts go. Polite. But warmth still fills my chest as I read it again. Dan used to take the piss about my writing. Called it a stupid hobby that got in the way of everything he wanted to do. God, he was such a wanker. How did I not see it?
He’s the main reason I’m still wary about telling people. Which is why it pissed me off when I thought Pete was laughing at me.
I believed him when he said he wasn’t, and as silly as it might be, the fact he remembered and asked me about it reinforces that. I check the time on his text and realise he sent it over three hours ago. Shit, he probably thinks I’m ignoring him.
Charlie: Sorry only just woken up and seen this. I did get all my words done, and more. Which is why I overslept
Charlie: And I had a great time last night, too
I’ve only just put my phone down on the bedside table when it vibrates, Pete’s name lighting up the screen. I should be embarrassed at how quickly I snatch it up again.
NYE Pete: Does that mean you’re ahead of schedule?
I grin at my phone, hoping I know why he’s asking.
Charlie: Maybe. Why?
NYE Pete: I was hoping to take you to lunch
Charlie: Today?
