“Because you’re winning at cake,” I comment, nearly dropping my eye contact but luckily catching myself in time. “Once Finley’s demolished this, you can leave.”
My flatmate chortles. “Guess that means you’re staying over because you’ve overestimated my stomach size. Bags you take Lily’s room. I’d offer you Rosa’s but you’d both end up dead.”
I reach forward and finally help myself to a slice. Enjoying an enormous bite before adding, “He’s not staying.”
“I am or I’m calling a security guard to come and stand here all night. Would you prefer that?”
“I’d prefer to call the police and report a trespasser.”
“Good. That’s what I want you to do.”
I roll my eyes, chewing rapidly until I can swallow and say, “Not for the supposed intruder. For you. The poor guy was probably some TaskRabbit odd-jobs-man, dropping off an envelope when you tried to kill him.”
“You know, I could pick you up and carry you to my car right now. I’m about three times your size.”
Finley’s eyes grow wider, and she pulls her phone out. “If you’re doing that, I want to film it.”
“No recording,” Trent and I snap in unison, then I have to clamp my lips together to stop from laughing.
He sees.
He’s doing the same himself.
“Fine,” I graciously concede. “You can sleep on the sofa if you’re that enthused about home security. But only because this cake is absolutely divine, and it’s far too late to be arguing. As a forfeit, you must eat a slice. It’s rude otherwise.”
Trent relaxes slightly, putting a hand near his plastered-over cut and suddenly I feel bad. Stubborn and ungrateful and insensitive.
“Does it hurt? We’ve got painkillers,” I murmur, escaping the room and dredging them from the bowels of the bathroom drawer. There’s a patch of mould in the lino’s join. The edge under the vanity has curled from repeat administration of moisture and heat.
To think, I fought to stay here rather than go back to Trent’s enormous mansion. A place Finley and I were both happy to party in only a month or two ago with no encouragement.
I bet every guest bedroom has an en suite. Bet they’re all at least twice the size of this bathroom. We could have had hot showers in the morning for as long as we could stand to stay under the water.
You still could if you stopped being so defiant. He’s done nothing wrong.
Except ask me to film some dirty videos when what I really wanted was a date.
Well, yeah. Apart from that.
Satisfied that I’ve won over my internal voice at least, I move back to the dining room and drag my seat nearer Trent’s. “Tell us what you know about Lily,” I say, deciding a change of topic is called for. “When did she find out about Sierra? Are they staying at Zach’s for long?”
I press the over-the-counter packets into Trent’s hand, then relax in my seat.
“They’re probably staying there forever because she’s not stupid enough to refuse him when he asks her to move in.”
I’m guessing the glare with which Finley accompanies that statement means she’s upset with me, but I don’t care. If we were hauling arse halfway across town, my stomach would be tight with worry. Instead, it’s full of cake.
“If you’re going to scowl, could you do it while also doing something useful like putting the kettle on so Trent can have a healthy cup of hot water? We don’t want to upset his delicate digestive system.”
“Fucks’ sake. I’m watching my diet. It’s not a declaration of war.”
“No,” I say with a smile, picking up a fork and breaking off a bite-sized piece of cake, raising it towards his mouth, ready to tease him further. “This is.”
Trent locks eyes with me, his irises darkening to navy. His hand reaches for the fork, not grabbing it from me, but guiding it with my hand still attached, lips parting to close around the treat, his mouth gently tugging it free.
He continues to hold the silverware in place, his fingers near enough to mine to make them buzz with his energy, savouring the one bite for the length of time it takes Finley to eat half a slice. Then he leans forward again, his tongue reaching out to lick the traces of icing from the tines.
I can’t look away. My tease nothing compared to the one I got in return. As his tongue swoops across the fat bud of his upper lip, I mimic the gesture, cheeks flushing as the breath in my lungs heating by ten degrees.
