“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said we’re not watching a Christmas film in the middle of spring.”
Harry smooths the non-existent hair on his chin. “Okay, yeah, that’s a valid argument. But what’s your comfort watch?”
“Depends on my mood.” I empty two tins of soup into a saucepan while the frying pan heats up. “If I’m sad,Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion. If I’m very sad,Clueless. And if I’m fucking miserable, I’m talking chronic, manic depression, then nothing else will cut it exceptSome Like It Hot.”
He cocks his head to the side like a puppy who hasn’t understood its master’s orders.
“Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon? It’s such a good film. Has something for everyone. There’s cross dressing, there’s music, there’s comedy, there’s Marilyn fucking Monroe. It’s an absolute classic.”
“Is it black and white?” he asks, pulling a disgusted face as though I’m telling him to lick the bottom of my shoe.
“You uncultured swine.” I butt him out of my way with my hip so I can stand next to the stove with all this bread and cheese.
“Okay, fine, we’ll watchThe Muppet Christmas Caroland then we’ll watchSome Like It Hot. We’ve got all night. I was gonna stay over anyway,” he says.
I raise my brow at him for both the bold suggestion of entertainment and the insinuation that Harry Ellis would be staying overnight, here at Hooke Manor. “You were?”
“Oh my god, wasn’t I? I just assumed that was the . . .” Harry’s cheeks flush pink. He scratches his ear. “You’d really turf me out into the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? Cold, bro.”
Oh no.
Dammit, he’s so cute.
12
Saturday 3rd May 2025
Harry
Lando’s en suite is bigger than my parents’ bathroom back at home, and fancier than an actual spa. I’ve only ever been inside one spa, and that was on a cruise with my family two years ago, but it has nothing on the luxuriousness of this place.
It’s all black marble tiles and programmable mood lighting, and towels softer than goose-down quilts. There’s even a fucking telly set behind a mirror.
“I spend so much time in this room, I had my dad have someone install it,” he’d said after the first time he’d had to run to the toilet. He’d told me not to pause the movie, that he could still see it from his throne.
During the second trip, when five minutes had elapsed and he still hadn’t returned, I went to investigate.
“Oh my god!” he’d yelled,covering his lap.
“Relax, I shower with a bunch of guys every single day. I’ve probably seen more cock and balls in my life than you have, and that’s saying something.”
“I’m really sorry about this.”
“Why?” I’d leant against the sink and let my eyes rove over the space. Damn, it sure seemed cool to be fucking loaded. “You literally told me this would happen. Do you need me to fetch you some water or some rehydration pills or more TP or something?”
“You don’t mind?” He’d tilted his head to the side and frowned up at me.
“Everyone shits. Also, I can’t smell. Also, I kinda forced you to make me a grilled cheese sandwich, so that’s on me. Also . . .” I’d stopped myself from finishing that sentence.
“Also?” he’d said.
“Also . . .” I hid my face behind my palm. “At least your ass is finally seeing some action tonight.”
Lando had barked out a laugh. “Alright, fuck off and go get me something to drink. There’s some Lucozade in the little fridge in my room.”
“There’s a fridge in your bedroom!? Oh, how the other half lives.”
That was almost an hour ago. Now I’m lying in Lando’s bone-dry bathtub while he battles it out on the toilet four metres away from me.
