18
Hamish
I’m sitting on the sofa as Archie arrives. He walks up the drive, not noticing me at first, probably because the sun is reflecting on the windows. When he does, his smile brightens, and he jogs up the rest of the garden to the front door.
I run a hand over my shaved head. We shared an amazing weekend, but now it's Monday morning, and I'm not sure what that means for us.
“Morning, Sir,” Archie says cheerfully as he enters the kitchen.
I don’t speak. Last week, I would have ordered him to his knees instantly, but that doesn’t feel like the right thing to do today.
“Coffee?” he asks, his voice a little unsure.
“Aye, thank you.”
I don't turn around. Instead, I listen to the sound of the cupboard door shutting and the soft thud of the coffee mug as he puts it on the counter. The coffee machine chugs and burbles away, and then there's the steady stream of liquid being poured into the mug. The rich aroma of the coffee fills the air, getting stronger as Archie brings it over to me. He puts it on the table and then kneels between my legs, his hands going to my trousers, even though I haven't asked him to blow me.
I put my hands over his. “Don’t.”
He looks at me, eyes wide, eyebrows drawn together. “But…”
I run my hand through his hair, marvelling at how beautiful he is. He presses into my hand, and I knock his glasses slightly so they end up at an angle. I set them right for him and then caress his cheek.
“We can’t carry on like we did last week,” I tell him.
His chin wobbles. “I don’t understand. I thought you had fun this weekend…with me?”
“I did, Archieosaurus.”
He lets out a watery laugh. “Then what’s happened?”
“This weekend happened.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Last week we weren’t together,” I say, trying to find the words to explain the way I’m feeling. It’s odd that I’m making such a hash of this, considering I make my living crafting words for millions of people to read. “We were fucking. We bookended the day with sex and pretended nothing had changed while we worked.”
“That’s what you wanted,” Archie whispers.
“Aye, it was, last week. Then we spent the weekend together.”
“I still don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
I sigh heavily. "I'm fucking this up, aren't I? I'm falling for you, Archie. I don't want to spend eight hours a day pretending I don't want to kiss you and hold you."
“Are you firing me?”
I stroke his cheek. “No. Haven’t I told you before that you’re the best PA I’ve ever had?”
His mouth quivers. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“No. I’m telling you I want to be with you. Or I’m trying to anyway. I’m kind of rusty at this part, and you’ll have noticed that there’s not much romance in Lee’s books.”
“Just a lot of fucking,” Archie says.
“Aye. But I want there to be more than sex between us.”
“Me too.”
