We’re shivering by the time we get to my flat. As soon as we’re inside, I turn the shower on to heat up. We strip and then get under the water. I hold Haru and rub my arms over his cold skin. His skin soon becomes flushed and warm to the touch. I give him the T-shirt and jogging bottoms he borrowed before. He puts them on without his underwear, which is drenched. I put our wet clothes into the washing machine.
“Would you read to me while I cook?” I ask.
“Sure.”
Haru had left the book he is reading to me behind the last time he was here. He fetches it from the bookshelf while I decide what to cook. I could heat two of my pre-made meals up, but that would be cheating. I settled on pasta because it’s fast but tasty. Haru leans against a cupboard, reading to me. I adore how he puts on different voices for each character and uses his empty hand to gesture when he reaches an exciting part of the story. He sneezes and gets a sheet of kitchen towel to wipe his nose.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just a sniffle. I’ll be fine.”
I frown. “I should have left the car key with you.”
He comes to me, pushes onto his toes, and kisses my cheek. “You are such a caretaker, and I love you for it.” He bites his lip as he sinks onto the flats of his feet.
My stomach flip-flops.
“You don’t need to worry. I’m okay,” he says in a breezy tone. “And the food smells amazing.”
“The sauce is straight out of a jar.”
He laughs. “But you’ve made it, so it’s going to be extra tasty.”
I want to say it’s a meal made with love, but I hold my tongue. Haru has already glossed over his use of that four-letter word. I don’t want either of us to have to do it again.
I serve, and we sit at the table to eat. Haru continues to read between mouthfuls, so it takes him twice as long to eat as me. We wash up together, spending half our time trying to put bubbles on each other’s noses. I have the height advantage, so win the game.
I put our clothes into the tumble dryer and then fetch a spare blanket from my bedroom, and we sit on the sofa huddled beneath it. Haru reads for a while but keeps getting interrupted by sneezes, so we switch to watching a film. I findWhen Harry Met Sallyon the movie channel purely so I can show Haru the fake-orgasm scene. When the film ends, we spend a while kissing and cuddling.
Haru chain sneezes, which is adorable, even though my chest is squeezing with worry. He gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Sneezing isn’t exactly romantic.”
I tuck his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I have a bit of a sniffle, that’s all. I’ll be fine by morning. Would you mind taking me home?”
“Of course not, beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’ll be up for sexy stuff by tomorrow night.”
I pull him to me and kiss his forehead. “I’ve had fun tonight without the sexy stuff.”
“So have I.”
“Haru—”
He sneezes more explosively than before.
The words I was going to say die on my tongue. “I’ll take you home. Unless you’d rather stay?”
He shakes his head. “You have work tomorrow. Besides, there’s no place like my own bed when I’m sniffly.”
“I can relate to that.”
He changes into his dry, warm clothes, and I take him home.
