‘Yep. We can just hang,’ James replies.
I’m not one hundred per cent sure he means it, but I’m relieved.
‘Okay,’ I say and feel the tension disperse. ‘A film would be good.’
He nods and, with a smile, walks to the cupboard and pulls open the doors. There’s a massive flat-screen TV hidden behind it, and a couple of remotes on the shelf. He turns to me and, although his bare chest makes me nervous, I grin.
‘You have to let me choose,’ I say. ‘Can I get in?’ I nod to his bed.
‘Please,’ he says. ‘Shall I make us a cuppa? Or a wine?’
‘I’m sick of wine,’ I say with a laugh.
‘Tea it is, then.’
He slips his T-shirt back on and disappears downstairs to the kitchen. After battling with myself for a moment, I peel off my skirt and shirt, laying them carefully over his laundry basket, and jump between his sheets, wearing nothing but a tank top and knickers. I switch on the television, flick through the Netflix offerings and wonder if he would sit through my third-favourite film of all time,Die Hard. All men likeDie Hard, don’t they?
Moments later James comes back, balancing two ginger biscuits on top of two mugs, and closes the door quietly.
‘Did you chooseDie Hard?’ he says.
‘You sound surprised,’ I reply. ‘It never fails to entertain. And it’s got Alan Rickman.’
‘I trust you,’ he says, stripping to his boxers and climbing into bed next to me. I move across to make room.
‘You’ve never seenDie Hard?’
‘Nope,’ he says, laughing. ‘Honestly, I usually fall asleep when I’m watching TV. I’m always so tired.’
‘Buteveryonehas seenDie Hard,’ I say, hitting Play and settling into one of his massive pillows to watch.
An hour later I’m snuggled into James’s shoulder and he’s asleep. As I listen to his slow sleep-breathing, I feel a wave of tiredness and for a moment think about creeping out of his bed and downstairs into my own. But then I close my eyes.
27.
My phone wakes me in the middle of the night. I’m not sure how long it’s been buzzing, but I leap out of bed and fumble around in the dark until I find it. My brain is racing. Who is it? I must have been dreaming about my dad, because he’s the first person I think of. Or is it Heather? Did Roxy and Heather talk? I know I’m tired and confused, and I almost feel sick as I pull the phone out from my bag.
But then I see it’s only Tim, so I quickly put my phone on silent. Okay. He’s not going away. I’m going to have to deal directly with it at some point. Especially now that I’ve promised James I will. Later today I will speak to Roxy about the Facebook request and pull my shit together, put my head down and finish off this summer without fucking anything else up. For a moment I think about leaving early again. I could call a taxi right now and be gone before anyone wakes up.
But I can’t do it.
I look over at James just as he stirs and then rolls over, and I can hear his breath fall back to a slow, deep rhythm. I watch his chest move up and down for a moment, wanting to feel its comforting rise and fall.
I look down at my phone and decide I’d better message Tim. I need to get him to stop hassling me until I’m ready to deal with him for real. Tim can be a bit of a wild card, and he’s the only person who knows I’m here as Heather.
Hi, what’s up? Sorry, been super-busy here.
He replies immediately.
Birdy! Thought u drank 2 much whisky & got eaten by the Loch Ness Monster.
I roll my eyes – the Scottish jokes got tired a while ago.
Ha. Not exactly. Been working v hard. It’s good here.
Do they still believe you’re Heather?
It’s all working out so far.
