So I make a mental note to pay for dinner.
6
A Missed Course
Lily-Anne
I startle awake, hunger pangs tightening my stomach. It’s dark. Barely a trace of twilight graces the sky outside. I scrabble for my phone, squinting at the bright screen.
11:47 p.m. I’ve overslept.
Shit.
A notification sits on the lock screen, sent nearly four hours ago.
Brandon:Everything alright?
And then, two hours ago:
Brandon:Didn’t want t o wake you - just sorting dinner if you surface.
He was waiting. A tiny flush warms my chest, but I’m swept up in embarrassment.
Groaning, I roll out of bed and nearly trip over my guitar case.
“Shit, fuck!” I yelp, massaging my toe.
“Language, Lily. It’s not very becoming of a lady to swear.”
“Oh, fuck off, Toby,” I snarl, hurrying to pull my shoes on.
I race downstairs, raking my fingers through my hair in a bid to look presentable.
I rush towards the bright kitchen—only to collide with Brandon’s chest as he steps out.
“Oh—sorry,” I blurt, stumbling.
He catches my arms and steadies me. “Whoa there. I thought I heard you come down.”
“Yes, sorry. I just woke up,” I mumble, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. His hands are warm on my arms, his face close. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves, the air humming between us as heat prickles my cheeks. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, we step back, leaving a carefuldistance.
“Sorry,” I say again. “I think I slept through my alarm. Or maybe I forgot to set it.”
A small smile plays across his face. “That’s quite alright. Are you hungry? I’m afraid the pub won’t be serving food now, but I made us some dinner.”
“You did?” Guilt prickles beneath my relief. “You must have been starving.”
He shrugs. “A little peckish. But I can fend for myself.”
“I hate that I kept you waiting. And that you had to cook.”
His mouth quirks faintly. “I really don’t mind. Gave me something to do while you caught up on your sleep.”
“Still—”
“Come,” he says gently. “I left you a plate. Might still be warm.”
As I follow him down the hall, my eyes wander. He’s changed, wearing just a T-shirt and dark jeans now, his reserve softened by the casualness of it. The fabric stretches across his shoulders as he moves, lean strength in every quiet step.
